I thought about what I’d learned for the rest of the day, the information a blessed distraction from the wedding. I noted how Diego Venturi addressed Matteo—how he’d spoken to him since the day I’d met Matteo—as if Venturi was reporting to his boss. Perhaps Matteo was the only means of communication with the reclusive head of the family, but I didn’t buy it. If it walked like a duck and quacked like a duck, no need to pretend it’s anything but a f*****g duck. The moment we were able to sneak away from the wedding reception without appearing rude, I had Matteo drive us home. We exchanged quiet conversation in the car, discussing the food, the people who had too much to drink, and the absurdity of wedding toasts. While our conversation was light, it was a stark contrast to the heaviness satu
