Page 85 of Sweet Prison
Marvelous.
“Thank you, Iris.” I pick up another rhinestone and focus back on my work. “What can I do for you, Salvo?”
He approaches the old oak desk where I’m working with long, slow steps and leans his shoulder on the bookshelf. Over the years, while my sister was leading Cosa Nostra, Salvo was an incredible help. Any time there was a problem, he ran interference between Nera and the capos, calming the situation and buying Nera time when necessary. He also took it upon himself to do most of the dirty work, saving Nera from having to deal with nasty things as much as possible. I’m not sure she would have been as successful if Salvo hadn’t been there to support her.
Yet, after all that he’s done, I’ve never quite come to like him. Despite his constant, insistent attempts to take me out todinner, as well as a never-missed opportunity to chide me for putting myself in danger for Massimo’s sake, he’s remained a perfect gentleman. Even as I consistently rejected his advances. But still… I can’t shake the slight unease that washes over me when I’m alone in a room with him.
“For your sister?” he asks, nodding at the bundle of red silk in front of me.
Understandable he’d assume that. Red is Nera’s favorite color. But as it happens, it’s mine too. I just never wear it. “I don’t think you’ve dropped by to discuss my latest sewing project.”
“Why not? I like talking with you. And I’d like to spend more time in your company, if you’d let me.”
God, he just won’t quit. If I could tell Salvo right now that I’m with Massimo, it would once and for all put a stop to this nonsense. Except, I did promise Massimo we’d keep our relationship quiet. For now.
“We’ve had this discussion several times. You’re a nice guy, Salvo, but I’m not interested in going out with you.”
“Yes, you’ve mentioned that.” He leans away from the bookshelf.
With his hands clasped behind his back, Salvo strides around the library, looking over the book-laden shelves and the oil paintings hanging on the walls. When he reaches the fireplace, he halts and cocks his head, observing the winter landscape in an ornate golden frame hanging above the mantel.
“This belonged to my father, you know,” he says. “It was in my family for generations, until Dad had to sell it, along with many other art pieces, to cover his gambling debts. Massimo’s father bought them all at triple their value. He made a point to mention it whenever his friends came by.”
“He wanted to rub your father’s nose in it?”
“Of course not.” Salvo turns toward me, his eyes flitting around the room. “The Old Spada always insisted that Family should be there for each other. Especially in times of need. A very noble stance for someone who was basically an outsider before he joined said Family, don’t you agree?”
“I think, it was honorable of him to help a friend out, having the means to do so,” I say. Massimo’s father died when I was just a baby, but even to this day, his name still comes up in conversation among certain Family members. Unlike Salvo’s father, who is never talked about. Most Italians are very religious, and Mr. Canali killed himself. They see that as a mortal sin.
“It was,” Salvo continues. “The Family was smitten with Old Spada and his… unconventional ways. Helping his peers when he could have easily used their misfortune to keep them beholden to him. Granting various members prominent positions within the hierarchy, regardless of their pedigree. As long as he worked hard, any low-born man could earn his spot in the top echelon of our society during Old Spada’s reign. He even sent his only son to run around with the foot soldiers, allowing him to break arms and legs as if he was no better than hired muscle.”
I narrow my eyes at him. His words seem to be infused with respect and wonder, yet there’s a subtle hint of something else in his tone. It sounds almost like… envy.
“Hmm, I think that approach worked out rather well for Massimo,” I say. “I’ve never seen men remain this loyal to their leader, even after he was absent for nearly twenty years.”
Something flares in Salvo’s eyes, an emotion I can’t immediately identify, especially since he looks away at that moment. “Indeed.”
“So? Are you going to tell me why you’re really here?”
“I wanted to ask if you’d marry me.”
I nearly choke. Holy shit! Massimo didn’t make up that tidbit about Salvo asking for my hand in marriage when he was trying to push me away from him.
“I can understand your decision to stay with your stepbrother.” Salvo crosses the room, coming closer. “After all, he has manipulated you for years, ever since you were barely a teenager. He has groomed a nice, timid girl to become his little marionette. One who’s more than willing to dance to his tune. And since your sister has a family of her own now, I can see how you would have been left with this conclusion—that you should rely on Massimo as your only remaining so-called family member. He probably even used your naivety to steer you into believing that.”
I seem to have lost the ability to speak, too shocked and disgusted by what he’s saying.
“Don’t let yourself be fooled by his words, Zara. Massimo doesn’t care about you. He doesn’t care about anything other than his own devious games and the thrill they bring him. It’s not his fault. He’s just not capable of feeling affection for anyone but himself.”
“And you are?” I choke out, revolted. “Will you be my knight in shining armor saving me from the clutches of the big bad wolf?”
“I will.” He stops on the other side of the desk and reaches out to stroke my face. “If you’ll let me.”
I rear back, away from his touch. “Thank you for your gallant offer, however, I have to respectfully decline.”
Salvo’s expression changes faster than I’ve ever witnessed anyone’s before. One moment, he appears to be a compassionateand understanding man, and the next, his face transforms into a mask of pure rage. His hand, halfway on its journey to my face, quickly redirects. He grabs my wrist with a punishing grip and pulls me toward him.
“Why?” he snarls through his teeth. “I can give you everything! Respect. Security.”