Page 93 of Sweet Prison

“I’m sorry, this is my fault. The men are well aware not to let anyone enter the property, but I did not relay any instructions about stopping her in the event she decided to leave.”

“Where did she go?”

“I’m not sure, but Iris says she heard your lady speaking on the phone with her sister, and they mentioned the Public Garden.”

I cut the call and hit the gas.

“I don’t think this is what Lucia meant when she mentioned wanting to see ducks,” I say, watching my niece.

Lucia is glaring at the line of cute bronze ducklings following behind their mother along the cobblestone path. Her little fists are propped on her hips like she’s ready to chide us all for misleading her. The “Mallard” family has been a kids’ favorite feature in the Boston Public Garden for nearly forty years, but it’s obviously not measuring up to Lucia’s expectations. Her dad is beside her, looking rather lost and confused about what he should do.

“Yeah.” Nera laughs next to me as we lounge on a nearby park bench. “Kai promised her we’ll have ducks at our new home, but we’re still looking for the perfect place.”

“If he’s going to buy you horses and make sure Lucia has her ducks, it will need to be somewhere outside the city.”

“Yup. Likely at least a couple of hours out. If you decide to come live with us, you could probably have an entire floor to yourself.”

“That’s sweet.” I accept a bag of shelled, roasted, and salted pistachios Nera offers and take one of the scrumptious earthy nuts. “Although, as I already told you, I’m staying with Massimo.”

“Why? And why him, of all people? Why would you want to live in the same house as—” Her fair complexion suddenly loses more color. “Oh my God. He’s making you stay! What is that jackass holding over you?”

I look away, focusing on the sun setting behind the canopy of trees at the edge of the park. It’s long overdue, but I owe my sister the truth. Can’t keep giving her my vague answers.

“My heart,” I whisper and make myself meet her distraught stare. “He holds my heart.”

“What?” she gasps, incredulity screwing up her face. “Zara… Massimo is our stepbrother.”

“I know.”

“That’s all you have to say?” my sister chokes out and grabs my hands. “How did this happen? When? Were you visiting him in secret?

“We exchanged letters while he was in prison. For years. The day of Dad’s funeral was the first time I set my eyes on him.” I look down at my clasped and twisting hands. “You and I, we’re quite a pair, don’t you think? You fell in love with a guy whose name you didn’t even know. And I, well… I fell for a guy without really knowing what he looked like.”

“For the love of God, Zara! It’s not the same. I, at least, knew what kind of a person Kai was. We met up for nearly a year. Spent time together. Got to know each other, face-to-face. How in the world could you fall in love without meeting him first?”

I sigh. “I fell in love with his mind. He was so cunning in his letters. So devious.”

“Oh, he is certainly that! Devious and cunning. He’s also an epically arrogant, ruthless bastard.”

“Yes, he is. But there’s so much more to him. The strength of his will. His strategic mind and sheer determination. All those qualities left me in awe. Every single time. He’s so damn smart, Nera. He ruled Cosa Nostra for two decades without anyone ever suspecting a thing.”

“You knew? For how long?”

“Yes.” I swallow and entwine my fingers with hers. I need to tell hereverything—now—because I’m not sure I’ll have the courage to bring it up again. “I spied on Dad for him. And after Dad died and you took over… then… I spied on you.”

“You… spied on me?” Nera’s voice is filled with confusion, but more than that, hurt. “For Massimo?”

“Yes.”

She starts pulling her hands from mine, but I capture and squeeze her palms harder, then finally gather the nerve to meet her gaze.

“I did it for you. And for Lucia.” I sniff. “You may think you know Massimo, but trust me—you don’t. He was never going to let you leave, Nera. Your marriage to Leone was just ‘phase one’ of his plans for you. So, I offered him a deal he couldn’t refuse, in exchange for your freedom.”

Shock. Disbelief. Anguish. The emotions cross her face. Each, in turn, makes me feel worse than the other.

“I’m so sorry, Nera.” I wipe the tears that run down my cheeks. “Please, please don’t hate me.”

For almost a full minute, my sister simply stares at me. Time drags, it feels like a decade passes in silence. When she closes her eyes and a long exhale escapes her, I expect her to pull away. But she grabs my shoulders and crushes me to her instead.