Blood Always

7

It came up in your present, which means something’s coming. Something big.” Despite being born and raised in America, Nona was a big believer in the tarot cards taught to her by her grandmother. In my opinion, if you dealt the cards often enough, you’d eventually tell an accurate fortune, but it was about as reliable as rolling a set of dice, and I didn’t care to bet on either of them. However, in this particular instance, her cards happened to appear more accurate than not. “I bet I know what it is.” “You do? Tell me,” she insisted.

“There’s a new tattoo I’m planning to get on my ribs.” The comment was meant to goad her—she hated my tattoos. “Gah,” she barked over the phone, doubtless flipping me an Italian hand gesture as well. “Here I am trying to prepare you—to help you—and you make a joke of it.” I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Nona, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound unappreciative.” “Yes, you did. Don’t add lying to your sins.” “All right, all right. Here’s the truth. There are some big changes coming, but it’s not set in stone, so I didn’t want to tell you yet.” “Tell me now. It could be the death card is coming for me—I’m eightythree, you know. Maybe tomorrow I don’t wake up.” “God, Nona, stop it! You know I hate it when you talk like that.” “It’s the truth.” “No, the truth is you’ll probably outlive us all.” “I’ll outlive you if you don’t tell me what’s coming. I’m too old to be patient.” I sighed heavily. Now that Maria and I had met, I was more confident about telling my family. I hadn’t wanted to tell them if there was any chance the deal would fall through. “I’ve been seeing someone.” Silence. I worried I’d given the old broad a heart attack with my news. “Nona? You okay?” “Who is this woman you’re seeing?” All pretenses of elderly convalescence were dropped as the cut-throat woman who helped raise me stepped forward. Nona wasn’t just fierce—she was fiercely protective. Despite her claims that she wanted to see me settled down, no woman was ever good enough for her first-born grandson. It had always amused me in the past, but this was Maria we were talking about. She was going to be my wife, whether Nona liked it or not, and my own protective instincts bristled. “Why should it matter? If she’s in my life, I expect you and everyone else to treat her with the same respect you would treat me.” My voice was a wooden gavel that should have closed the discussion. “You know as well as I do that everyone must earn their own respect. This woman is no different. You bring her to me, and I’ll make that decision for myself.” Had it been any other person on this planet who had disregarded my command, I would have jumped down their throat or simply showed up on their doorstep to make my reprimand more personal. But it wasn’t any other person, so instead, I massaged my fingers across my temple and eased the stale air from my lungs. “Things are complicated right now, but I’ll bring her by when the time is right.” “You’re a good boy, Tito.” Her self-satisfied grin was almost audible. “‘Cause I let you walk all over me?” “You love your Nona, there’s nothing wrong with that.” I grunted with a smirk. “No more meddling, Nona. I’ll talk to you soon.” I hung up, shaking my head and wondering how that woman always managed to bend me to her will. I told myself it was just easier not to fight her, but deep down, I knew it was more. I liked to make her happy. In this instance, giving her a spoonful of information also helped me start to spread the word about my pretend relationship. I had no doubt Nona was already on the phone with my sister-in-law, gossiping about who the mystery woman could be. Nona had turned her nose up at every woman I’d ever dated. As I tried to envision the brash and abrasive Maria meeting my family, I had no clue what the outcome would be. In my experience, women didn’t tend to get along. Period. Even more volatile—put two dominant women in a room together and you’d have World War III on your hands. Maria and Nona had the potential to make my life hell. Regardless of anyone’s opinion, Maria was going to be my wife. The question I kept asking myself was, why? Maria herself didn’t seem too thrilled with the arrangement. So, why had she agreed to the marriage? I didn’t get the impression Enzo had forced her into it. She certainly wasn’t a hopeless romantic smitten with the idea of a love affair. I knew my own reasons for agreeing to the marriage, but why would a feral kitten like my fiancée have voluntarily given up her freedom? There was a lot I didn’t know about her. As much as I wanted to search out the answers, it was probably best for both of us if they stayed in the dark. OceanofPDF.com Chapter 3 Maria 2 Weeks Earlier “You know who you remind me of?” I purred next to my companion’s ear. “Who?” he asked greedily in his thick Italian accent. “A young Al Pacino. You ever see that old movie Scarface?” He looked like Al Pacino about as much as a subway rat. I had gone to the bar just to listen for information and keep an eye on local activity. I hadn’t meant to pick up an admirer, but the opportunity had been too good to ignore. Sometimes fate drops a shiny wrapped package right in your lap, and this one was all mine. I couldn’t honestly be expected to ignore it. I’d been sipping on the same martini for the last hour while I’d encouraged him to toss back one Old Fashion after another. He was so drunk, I could almost see the alcohol sloshing behind his eyes. “Me? You really think I look like Al Pacino?” “Absolutely! Do I look like the kinda girl who would lie?” I peered up at him through my heavily mascaraed lashes. As if looks could tell you anything about a person. That was one of the greatest misconceptions in our society—that we had any clue what a person was like without crawling beneath their skin and swimming alongside their darkest fantasies. Hell, some of the worst serial killers of our time were beloved members of the community. When authorities dig up bodies from beneath some psychopath’s floorboards, the neighbors are always shocked, quoted by nosey TV reporters as saying, ‘he always seemed like such a nice guy.’ You never heard any of John Wayne Gacy’s neighbors telling anyone, “I knew that guy was a worthless sack of s**t. You could just tell by the way he smiled.” Lesson to be learned? Never be so arrogant as to assume you know anyone. If you must make assumptions, always assume the worst, then work backward from there. It will save a world of grief.