A Mafia Man’s weakness

Chapter Three

Alessia’s POV

The funeral is like all the others that happen in Sicily: dark and cold. Guests line the private cemetery, holding on to quaint umbrellas and dabbing the tears from their eyes. I stand beside my husband as the casket gets lowered into the ground.

Things have gotten worse between us since his father’s death, but this time, I don’t bother trying.

“Dust we are, and dust we shall return.” The priest’s voice booms through the space, and the birds who have come to witness the rites are scared away from the trees. Nick doesn’t shake beside me.

His expression remains stoic, staring at the gleaming black cakes as if they were just another thing he had to go through. I haven’t seen him grieve, unlike Bianca, who has been thrashing all over the place, in tears, like she is the wife.

And there are the other women present right now, watching. Waiting for me to slip.

I just might prove them right.

We stand until the last bit of dirt hits the polished wood of the casket, until the last amen chokes out of our lips. The funeral moves naturally to a light interment, their voices carrying through the room.

In my world, nothing is light, especially not grief. But the Sicilian mafia begs to differ.

“We are so sorry about your loss,” a million and one voices murmur to me, holding my hands shortly and giving me a small smile. It is the most warmth I have received since I got married to Nick.

And I cannot believe it took his father’s death for me to experience it.

“Your husband is so strong,” one of the wives of the heads of the family tells me, the mascara untouched by her seemingly fake tears. “He has been through so much in such a short time. Yet, I haven’t seen him break. It’s good. He is exactly what Sicily needs.”

Sicily needs heart and warmth. But if they all want steel, I guess that is what they will get.

Smiling politely, I move on from her table, fatigue embracing my feet. I have heard it is customary for me to do this, but I’d really prefer heading up to my room than experiencing one more second of it.

My eyes fall on Lorenzo, sitting at the head of the room, already assuming power. He gets up when he sees me and pushes towards me with that annoying smirk on his lips.

“Mia regina,” he murmurs, planting a kiss on my cheek. I pull away from him and step back. “I would have said something about your loss, but we both know you didn’t care about the man.”

As much as I hate to admit it, Lorenzo is the only truthful person in this room today. Everyone saw how Mr. Valenti treated me, like I didn’t matter. Like I was just an accessory to be disposed of at will.

He joked about how Nick was only wasting his time with me and that when his son found someone better, I would be forgotten.

I desperately want to be.

I find Callista by the buffet, regarding me with kind eyes. But I see through them. There is something else she isn’t telling me. The reason she avoids my gaze as soon as I angle my head. Instead, she takes my hands and squeezes gently. “Do you need anything?”

“What did you see, Callista?”

“What?” She squeaks in a false pitch that gives it away. Realizing her mistake, she shakes her head at once. “Alessia, I promise it is nothing.”

“Callista…”

“Can you just let it go?” She whispers, her hold on my fingers getting tighter. “Too much has happened already today, and it doesn’t have to get worse.”

Her eyes dart to the stairs behind me, and I follow the direction of her gaze. Nodding to myself, I let go of her hands and head towards the upstairs corridor. My eyes blend seamlessly with the hovering darkness of the long hallway, with generations of Valentis staring down at me on the walls.

The first odd thing I notice is the study door that is barely left ajar. It is closed, yet I feel there is something off about it. I hear a light breath, torn between a sigh and a moan. It lingers in the air for seconds before the next one follows.

Swallowing, I turn to the side and push the door an inch, following my instincts. It gives way under my hands, and I float in.

Maybe I shouldn’t have.

Because playing right before my eyes is my husband, braced against the desk, bare-chested, and with his pants hanging low on his hips. A woman is beneath him. Not Bianca.

This time, it is a brunette in devastatingly hot lingerie. The color of blood.

I should be used to it by now. Yet, my heart does not stop. It thuds hard against my chest, as if seeking a way out. For a second, I cannot hear anything but the sound of my blood roaring in my ears.

Nick feels me before he sees me. He halts suddenly, his shoulder tense, as he turns around slowly. His gaze locks on mine.

“I told you not to come in here.”

The brunette doesn’t even gasp when she realizes my presence. Instead, she turns around slowly and bites her bottom lip.

“Nick…”

“Get out!” I tell the woman beside him, my voice oddly calm. “You can come in in a few minutes.”

She seems bent on arguing, but one slight shake of the head from Nick causes her to shut up. She picks her coat from the floor and waltzes out, the door closing softly behind her.

“What do you want, Alessia?”

I do not hesitate as I reach into my clutch, tossing the papers at him. “A divorce. Sign.”

A flicker of humor crosses his face as his eyes light up and his upper lip quivers. “Alessia, are you trying to get attention? I have to say that it doesn’t fit you.”

“Sign the papers, Nick.”

“You think I’ll chase you?”’

I shake my head. “I think you’ll let me go, because you already got what you wanted.”