Chapter 36 RóISE

Friday

A new cat bed identical to the first one, but the size of a midsize dog bed is waiting in my bedroom when I come in after classes.

Pusheen is lounging in it like the queen she is. There's an envelope with my name written in a slashing, heavy hand on my bed.

The card inside is solid white, embossed with a coat of arms I'm going to ask about later. There's a single line written in a bold scrawl.

A more fitting bed for our cat .

He didn't sign it, but there's no doubt in my mind who wrote it and provided the more appropriately sized cat bed for Pusheen. My fake boyfriend and secret fiancé, Miceli De Luca.

Still unsettled by what happened in the boathouse, I text him a quick thank you. I'm relieved when his return text is only two word.

Ares : You're welcome .

I'm not disappointed he doesn't say anything else.

There's another card on my desk. I almost never get mail. Who does? But the number of birthday cards that have been delivered the past two weeks is kind of staggering.

My friends don't do snail mail, so most are from people trying to impress my uncle. This must be another one, although the envelope is thin, cheap paper. Not impressive .

There's no return address, but the postmark is Pennsylvania .

Revulsion sends goosebumps down my arms. The only people I know of from Pennsylvania are my mom's blood relatives.

Not her family.

They don't deserve that title, but they do share her blood.

If I wanted a distraction from checking my phone again and/or texting Miceli, this is definitely working.

Slipping my finger under the flap, I tear it open and a note slips out.

My eyes go to the signature first. Hope. My grandmother, Hope Lion. I've only spoken to her a handful of times in my life and that's fine by me. She lives in total subservience to my grandfather and did nothing to protect my mom from Gabriel.

Dear Róise,

Your uncle has held Brother Gabriel off for three years, but now that you are twenty-one, you must have a care .

Have a care? What does that even mean?

Do not leave the house without your bodyguard , the note goes on. Ever. My sister didn't want you anywhere near this life, but if Brother Gabriel has his way, you'll be as trapped as any of us .

Trapped? Us?

This isn't from my grandmother. It's from my Aunt Hope, my mom's younger sister. And she says that Uncle Brogan has been holding Gabriel off since I was eighteen.

Any urge I have to thank my uncle is obliterated by the fact he used the threat of marriage to one of Gabriel's sycophants as leverage to force me into the contract with Miceli.

My aunt doesn't need to worry about me going anywhere without bodyguards though. Miceli has taken care of that.

That twinge of warmth I'm feeling is probably an allergic reaction to something. Not affection or gratitude toward Miceli De Luca for his vigilance on my behalf.

I'm in bed later, online buddy-bingeing a show with Kara and Fiona when my new phone rings. I send a message through the group watching app.

Rosy : Miceli is calling. Be offline for a few .

Then I swipe to answer. "Is this important? Because I'm group watching a show with my cousins."

"Hello, Róise. It has been a busy day, productive if not pleasant, thank you."

He's not here to see me roll my eyes. "Hello, Miceli. I'm busy."

I don't want to know what productive if not pleasant means.

"Are you okay?" I ask before I know the words are coming out of my mouth .

Well, great. I just said I didn't want to know. And like everyone else in my life sometimes, I'm not listening to me.

"Yes. Others are not so fortunate."

"Sometimes, you sound so formal."

"I wasn't allowed to use contractions until I learned to communicate without them."

"Really? Isn't that weird?"

"Not in my family."

"I always heard the Italian mafia is more stuck up than other organized crime families, but that's something else."

"Stuck up implies we think we are superior because of how we talk."

"Don't you?"

"No."

"But you do think you're better than everybody else."

"Not everybody."

I laugh. I can't help it. "You're so stuck on yourself."

"Our syndicate puts more time into training new recruits than others and children born into the mafia are trained from birth for their role."

"You've never had a time you didn't know you'd be underboss one day?" I know the answer.

He already said, but it's hitting me harder right now for some reason.

"No."

"Our child will be just as trapped." But not as trapped as the children born into the AOG.

My aunt's warning is on my brain because her concern came through the short note, but so did her hopelessness.

"It's not a trap, mi dolce fiore . It's a privilege."

Of course, Miceli would say that. "What if he or she doesn't want that privilege?"

And also, why do I love that he calls me his sweet flower? Is it a play on my name? I feel like it is. The words he said the first time he used it play over in my brain when I should be thinking about other things.

Your perfume is all I want to smell .

Even now, my core gives a throb and my thighs clench at the memory.

"Not all people born to a mafia family are meant for the mafia life." He says it like everyone knows that.

But that's sure not how my family sees it. Not even moma .

"That's not an answer. "

"There are children every generation who walk away from the life. If our child is one of them, we will respect that choice." Miceli doesn't sound like he's lying.

"Will you still love him or her? If they don't want to be part of this world?" Like my dad loved me?

"Love is not a word I use, but my children will always know they are part of the De Luca family, whether or not they are part of la famiglia ."

Love is not a word I use. What does that even mean? I figured he isn't going to fall in love with his wife, right? But his children? He'll love them, won't he?

"You love your family, don't you?"

"My family knows I will kill for them and die to protect them."

Okay, yeah. In this world, that's one definition of love, I guess. But even when it comes to his family, he's not going to use the dreaded L-word.

I sit up and rub my chest. "You're giving me heartburn."

"Stop eating so much crap on campus and you'll be fine."

I don't bother asking how he knows my preference for tacos, pizza and smoothies. Allessio is a born tattletale and Zoey probably is too.

"I don't eat crap." I eat the food that I never even tasted before going to college.

And it's yummy.

"Tell that to your heartburn."

The pain in my chest didn't originate in my stomach, but I'm not admitting that to either of us. "What do you want? You called for a reason, right?"

"I am checking up on our cat."

"Our cat?" The big ball of fur chooses this moment to jump onto my lap, knocking my tablet over.

Like she knows Miceli is on the phone.

I pet the Maine Coon and her deep purr rumbles over my thighs. "Since when did you become Pusheen's other human?"

"When we adopted her."

"I adopted her, not us."

"Really? Because I signed the paperwork just like you did."

"No…" Did he? "Why would you?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"You don't want a cat."

"I don't particularly want a wife either, but I've got both now."

I don't particularly want a wife . Sheesh. Talk about being blunt.

"Well, I don't want a husband either and newsflash, we aren't married yet."

"Not conventionally no."

"We are not having this discussion again. Until we say our vows in front of family, friends and enemies, we are not married. "

"Just remember who you belong to and the semantics don't matter."

"Semantics do matter. And ditto." Why did I say that?

He already promised not to cheat. Why harp on the issue? But then why is he?

It's kind of an issue with him, isn't it?

As if I'd deliberately put someone in his crosshairs. When he says he'll kill a man for touching me, Miceli is speaking his own deadly truth.

"Pusheen is fine."

"So, she didn't jump from the top of a display cabinet in the hall and knock over one of your uncle's guards?"

Allessio or Zoey must have told him about that. "She's a lot more playful than I expected."

"He didn't hurt her in retaliation." It's not a question.

I still reassure him fast. "No. He was a good sport even though he ended up with a few scratches."

"As one of the family bodyguards, he's going to have to learn to watch out for cat antics now." Miceli sounds really pleased by that.

"Troy isn't a bodyguard."

"Then what the fuck was he doing in the hallway outside yours and Fiona's bedroom?"

"You drop the F-bomb a lot for a man taught to speak like he's royalty, or something."

"Not around my mother and that's not important. Answer my question. What was this Troy doing in that hallway?"

"How should I know. He's one of my uncle's men. They don't answer to me."

"None of his men that are not part of the security detail should be in the halls leading to family bedrooms." He says it like it's a rule.

"Is that how you do it in the Cosa Nostra?" I ask without a lot of interest.

My uncle's men are always around. I don't leave my room in my pajamas and I always wait to change into my swimsuit until I'm down at the pool or the dock.

It is what it is.

"It's how it should be done there too."

Judgy much? "Says you."

"Think about it, Róise. He wasn't there to see you." Miceli's tone is implying something nefarious.

"He was probably delivering a message for my uncle."

"That should only be done through your security detail," Miceli says bossily.

"I guess my uncle doesn't agree." But I am thinking like he ordered…darn him, and I send a text to the chat window on the show that's been playing silently this whole time .

Róise : Fiona, do you know why Troy was in the hall today ?

Fiona : No. But I wish the men would stay away from our rooms .

Kara : It's worse around ours. Mick has his crew in and out of our rooms at all hours. I never know who's going to be there when I come out of the bedroom .

Fiona and my rooms might have less space, but we have more privacy than Kara.

I have a regular bedroom suite with a giant walk-in closet/dressing room and full bathroom. So does Fiona, but Kara and Mick have a set of rooms set up like an apartment. Moma does too.

The only people she invites into her space are us girls and Fitz.

I doubt Uncle Brogan and Mick even notice.

"Go watch your movie," he says abruptly.

Okay, then. "You do remember you are the one who called me? And it's a show. We're bingeing episodes."

"Which one?" he asks, like he didn't just basically tell me to hang up.

So, I tell him the title and what it's about in excruciating detail. After all, he asked.

Am I smiling with malice?

Maybe a little.

Saturday

A huge basket of cat treats and toys from Miceli arrives the next day for Pusheen.

I text him a picture of our… my cat hugging the stuffed mouse that smells like catnip. Her long front legs are wrapped around it like a baby.

Ares : Tell her there's more where that came from if she keeps attacking soldiers coming into the family wing .

Aphrodite : You are obsessed about that .

He has my name as Aphrodite in our text stream, but it's Róise everywhere else. Which means it's some kind of special tech mojo.

That I want him to share with me so that I can:

Change his name to Bossy Know it All.

Change my name for my cousins to Rosy.

Sunday

Ares : How is our cat? I want proof of life .

I take a picture of Pusheen stretched across the chair in the boathouse. Yes, that chair.

Fiona says the water is soothing for Rambo, so we're in the boathouse with the bay doors open.

My cousin is cuddling her cat in the hammock while I finish a paper on my laptop at the table. Kara and Fitz are building Legos at the other end.

"Who put that smile on your face?" Kara asks, sounding bemused. Then she frowns. "You're not dating someone at college are you?"

"What? No! If I was willing to date someone local, I wouldn't have planned that whole fiasco in Portland."

"Was it a fiasco?" Kara asks, sounding wistful.

Fitz jumps up and runs toward the main coon. "Let's play, Pusheen."

My cat lifts her head and surveys my nephew regally. And then without warning, she springs, landing two feet beyond him. He turns and tears after her, yelling like the exuberant five-year-old he is.

"He's happy," I say.

"Mick wants to send him to a military academy next year for school. I told him no."

"Good."

"I don't think Portland was the fiasco you believe it was." There's a far off look in Kara's hazel eyes. "I was terrified the day of my wedding."

"I would have been too. You were only eighteen."

"I'd never been kissed, or had a climax that didn't come from my own fingers."

"The nuns would be scandalized," I tease.

She attended the Catholic private school with all the other mob children. So did Fiona until the shooting.

"You know it." Kara grins at me, but then her pretty face turns serious again. "You've had sex with Miceli and now you know he won't hurt you in bed."

Horror grips my insides. "Has Mick hurt you?"

"No. That's one area I have no complaints, but I didn't know what it would be like beforehand. I was so scared. Mamo offered to get rid of him if he hurt me." She shrugs. "But no one could stop my wedding night happening."

"Except your dad."

Mamo had offered to kill Kara's husband if he abused her? I'm not surprised. Our grandmother has more steel in her than my uncle's weapons store.

Kara sighs. "Dad has always put the mob first, you know that."

We share a commiserating look and then both our gazes go to Fiona, talking in low tones with her rescue cat.

"Thank you for making him promise to give her the freedom your dad would have given you."

"She's the only leverage he had to convince me to agree to the blood alliance and he knew it. "

"He'll keep his word because if he doesn't, the Genovese mafia will stop trusting him."

Kara is right. I extracted that promise from my uncle privately and it has nothing to do with Miceli's mafia.

But it's my uncle's desire for a strong alliance with them that will force him to keep the promise he made to me.