Eventually, we were going to have to talk. About Vincenza and the trouble she was causing at the high table. About the quiet price on her head. About what happened to her father. All of it.

This was our fresh start and we were not going to build our relationship on a foundation that rocked. We needed to be solid. I needed her to be solid for me. And as I looked at her now, sitting down with my father, holding his hand as though she thought if she let go, she would wake from her desperate dream, I was convinced that, for me, she could be that woman.

Vittoria was resilient.

I got to witness that resilience firsthand when my brother turned up two hours late, stepped into my house without knocking and waltzed in like he owned the fucking place. Daniele made it to the kitchen, then walked his surly ass to the refrigerator, opened the door, stuck his head inside and asked a blasé, “So, what’s the big news?”

He tugged at his tie and casually undid the top button of his shirt before he popped the top on a bottle of beer. The cap tinkled when it landed on the floor. He lifted the cold bottle to his lips, tipped it back and drank from it for a whole ten seconds. “You got anything to eat, man? I’m starved.”

This guy. “Do you think about anything other than food?”

The bottle hung from his fingertips and he glanced back with a mischievous grin. “Food. Pussy. Drugs. In that order.”

Jesus.

I wondered about my brother sometimes. Must be nice not to have to worry about the basic shit the rest of us had to worry about. I always took it easy on him. So, maybe it was my fault that Daniele was the way he was. “Sit down. Let’s talk.”

Already, he knew something was up. He looked closely at me and, for once, read the room. His grin fell and his demeanor changed, became more rigid. “You talk. I’ll stand.”

Fine. “It’s about Vittoria.”

His grin returned, darker than I’d ever seen it and my brother jumped at the opportunity to say, “You finally ready to let go?” His eyes bled black. “Because I can do it for you. Let me do it for you. Say the word and I’ll make the drive over right now. I’ll wait ‘til she’s in bed. She’ll go to sleep and, boom, never wake up. Easy.” For a moment, his sanity came into question, especially when he said, “Or I can make her feel it. I’ll drag her out of bed by her hair, tie her up and make her scream. She’ll go scared, crying and begging.” He was far too eager when he leant in across the counter. “What’s your preference?”