Chapter 15
Charlotte
It was hard to put into words what I was feeling. There was no reason for me to feel gutted by the knowledge that my father was dead. I didn’t know him at all. I had never even seen a picture of him. But there was this dull ache in my chest. Disappointment, maybe. Perhaps, somewhere deep inside, I had always hoped my father would one day just knock on the door, suddenly wanting to be a part of my life.
I cleared my throat, the wine already stirring a buzz in my veins. “Okay, so my father is dead. Where’s my grandfather? Gianni?”
Elijah dragged a hand through his hair, placing his wine glass down, rubbing his thumb and forefinger around the thin stem. “He’s in prison—a special prison for mafia informers in Northern Italy.”
“Oh, my God.” It was almost comical, the a
