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The summer I turned eighteen, Dante took me across that line. I endured the pain, but a secret happiness bloomed in me all night. I thought six long years of waiting had finally culminated in an answer. Until the next day, when I stood in a quiet corridor and heard him talking. It was in the basement of the Castellano family’s north-side casino, in the hallway outside the conference room. I was looking for my father, the family’s doctor, who was supposed to meet me downstairs. I’d arrived early and was walking down the hall, over its dark red carpet, when I stopped just short of the corner. Dante’s voice. And the two men who were always with him, always in black suits. The revenue meeting had just ended. They were walking out, still talking. Dante didn’t bother to lower his voice. “The arrangement with Vittoria Romano is settled,” he said, his tone as casual as if he were discussing any other piece of business. “The terms include control of three northern ports and the eastern route. What the Ricci family has at the docks doesn’t even compare.” My fingertips went cold. One of his men laughed. “Then what about the Ricci girl? She’s been following you around for years.” “She can warm my bed for now. No harm in it,” Dante said. “The real business is with the Romanos.” “Not bad, boss,” another voice chimed in with the kind of knowing tone men reserve for each other. “Good for a test run, at least.” I heard Dante laugh. A soft, airy sound, as if he were talking about something utterly insignificant. “Don’t be an idiot,” he said lazily, a dismissive wave in his voice. “It’s not like she’s losing anything.” I stood frozen in the shadows around the corner. The warm yellow light of the hallway fell on the dark red carpet at my feet, the thick pile worn into shallow tracks. I lowered my head and stared at those marks, hearing every single word with perfect, ringing clarity. Test run. Warm my bed. Keep her around. Six years. Ever since I was eight and moved in
