18. Catalina

Catalina

C laudia pouts at me, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. "I didn't realize how long this would take," she complains, shifting impatiently in front of the full-length mirror. I continue to focus on pinning her dress properly, trying not to let her attitude get to me.

"It takes time to create a masterpiece from scratch," I reply, my fingers deftly adjusting the hem of the skirt.

Finally satisfied with my work, Claudia steps in front of the mirror and gasps in delight. A pleased smile spreads across her face as she turns and twirls, admiring her new dress.

"I love it!" she exclaims, beaming at me.

"See, it was worth all that time and effort," I say with a smirk.

She looks at me teasingly and says, "Given that's the only time you can spare for me..."

I can't help but laugh at her suggestive tone. "Hey now, that's not fair. You have your lessons during the day," I remind her.

Ever since the incident with Sarah, we had been on the hunt for a new teacher. After weeks of searching, we finally found Mrs. Evans. She is an elderly woman with over thirty years of experience teaching young girls. And despite our initial doubts and reservations, she has proven to be a great fit for us. Even Venezia, who is notoriously picky about people, seems to like her.

With a playful lilt in her voice, she replies, "And you have Marcello," but I can tell from the glimmer in her eye that she's joking. I never would have thought she'd feel jealous of me spending time with him. But then again, we have been spending a great deal of time together.

We've been taking it slow, one day at a time. We've been getting to know each other better and exploring his newfound tolerance for touch.

Sometimes, as we sit together, I catch a look of wonder on his face as if he can't quite believe he's touching someone.

And the more time we spend together, the more my heart falls for him. It's inevitable when you get glimpses into someone's soul. He always wears a mask, afraid of being hurt. It gives him an air of aloofness and sternness to those who don't know him well. But I've also seen his tender side.

A contented smile spreads across my face as I think about our newly established routine. Since Marcello is constantly working from his study, I had asked if I could keep him company and read a book while he tended to his business.

To my delight, he had welcomed the idea with open arms, and now for weeks we have met almost daily in the study. The silence between us is comfortable and companionable, though I do catch him stealing glances at me every now and then.

"You have no idea how hard it is to focus with you here," he would groan.

"I can leave if I'm distracting you," I'd offered, not wanting to ruin his workflow.

"Don't even think about it. I enjoy having you here," he'd replied, going back to his work.

There are days when he's away. I know it's mob business, so whenever he is out, I can't help but worry. This life is too dangerous.

Despite the countless moments we've spent together, our physical intimacy has never progressed beyond kissing. Yet every time his lips touch mine, my body sets ablaze with desire. And yet, just as things start to heat up, Marcello always pulls back. It's like a tantalizing game of cat and mouse, and I long for more.

I can feel it in my bones—I am ready for more. I've devoured articles and books on the subject, seeking guidance and knowledge. But I have no idea if Marcello is ready for the next step...

It's strange how I used to believe I was different from other women, incapable of experiencing these intense desires and pleasures. The fear and hesitation had consumed me for so long.

But when I'm with him, all those doubts vanish. That night from years ago feels like a distant memory now, fading into the background as I focus on the present and the future with Marcello by my side.

I not only have a beautiful daughter, but now I also have an amazing husband who might one day come to love me.

Maybe it was all worth it.

Claudia's voice cuts through my thoughts like a sharp knife. "Mamma!" she exclaims, raising an eyebrow as she catches me lost in my reverie.

I snap back to reality and see her smirking at me mischievously. I playfully pinch her arm as I scold her, "Don't tease me, young lady!"

She puts on a mock pout and replies, "Fine, I won't. But know that I'm onto you." She points two fingers at her eyes and then towards me, indicating that she's watching my every move.

I shake my head at her with a fond smile, and we return to working on her dress together.

Later in the afternoon, Marcello knocks on my door. He places a huge box in my arms and tells me to get ready because he's taking me to dinner. Too flabbergasted to respond, I just nod.

I put the box on the bed and lift the top. Inside is a gorgeous off-white dress and a pair of sandals. I'm immediately touched by his gesture, and I take off my clothes, ready to try it on.

Marcello must have noticed that I prefer to wear mid-calf dresses, because he's chosen the perfect length. The shoes also fit. I'm entirely too amazed by this and can't help but wonder how he could have known. Maybe Amelia looked through my things and told him?

I shake my head, a smile playing at my lips.

He wants to take me out. I'm almost too giddy at the thought.

I try my best to look put-together, not wanting to embarrass him. I look into the makeup bag I'd gotten the last time at the mall, and I apply some foundation to cover my freckles and a little mascara to lengthen my lashes.

Satisfied with the result, I head downstairs. Marcello is waiting for me by the stairs, already dressed in a suit – not that he's ever wearing anything else.

"Lina... you look amazing." He takes my hand, tugging me closer. I blush at his compliment.

"Thank you. You too," I add gingerly. He leans in closer, inspecting my face with a slight frown.

"What did you do to your face?" My hands instinctively fly to my cheeks.

"I just put on some foundation and mascara," I reply, confused by his concern.

He shakes his head, his eyes searching mine. "Your freckles are gone. I don't like it."

His hand finds mine and leads me to the kitchen. He gently takes a damp napkin and begins wiping away the makeup from my face.

"There, that's better," he says with a satisfied hum. I feel a blush creeping up my cheeks as I lower my gaze.

"Hey, you're beautiful no matter what. But I love your freckles, and I love looking at them." He lifts my chin to meet his gaze. "All one hundred thirty-nine of them."

"One hundred thirty-nine...?" I blink in surprise. "How do you?—"

"I counted." He smiles proudly. "I've been watching you so much it's become a habit," he adds, a little self-consciously.

His fingers trail softly against my skin, causing shivers to run down my spine.

"Seventy-two on your left cheek," he says as he gently caresses my left side. "And sixty-two on your right cheek."

I stare deeply into his eyes. "That's only one hundred thirty-four."

His lips curl into a fond smile before pressing a quick kiss to the tip of my nose.

"Five small ones on your nose," he whispers.

I blush furiously and avert my eyes, my heart beating so fast in my chest I'm afraid it's going to leap out any moment now.

"You're perfect and so are all of your freckles. Never hide them from me," he murmurs. "Now let's go before we're late for our reservations."

The restaurant Marcello booked for us is a stunning Italian place with an outside garden.

"You mentioned that your favorite food growing up was arancini . This place is famous for their Sicilian food. "

" You remembered that?" I'm shocked at his thoughtfulness. But then again, Marcello has this special ability to surprise me every single time. "This is amazing. Thank you," I tell him sincerely.

We are shown to our seats in the heart of the garden. After we peruse the menus, we settle on a full course meal, with appetizers, soup, and a main dish.

"I love this," I say as I gaze around me. The garden is housed between two buildings, but there's an in-built ceiling full of roses.

"I'm sorry I haven't been around as much, but things have been hectic," he apologizes.

"You have enough on your plate right now." I know he's been having issues with some businesses, even if I don't know any of the particularities.

"There have been some rogue groups that have been targeting our merchandise, and we aren't any closer to catching them." He sighs and brings his hand to massage between his eyes.

"That's why you agreed to marry me, wasn't it? For my brother's help?" I feel compelled to ask this, mostly because I'd been wondering for a long time.

Marcello grimaces but nods. "That, and that I needed to bring something to the table to make the famiglia trust me as capo."

"I see."

"The last few months have been nothing but trouble. There are a lot of new players in the city, and we still don't know who we are dealing with exactly."

The appetizers arrive, and we both dig in.

"Is it okay if you talk to me about..." I look around before whispering, " that ?" I'd seen enough in my family to know that men didn't talk business with their wives.

"Why not?" He leans in. "You're my wife." He gives me a smile, and I feel my stomach contracting. Butterflies... I'm having butterflies in my stomach. Lord! Now I understand the origin of the idiom.

"Men in the famiglia aren't usually as... accommodating," I add.

"There are a lot of things the famiglia and I don't agree on, and it's high time some of them changed."

"What do you mean?"

Marcello sighs. "I never wanted to become capo. I wanted out... as far away from the famiglia as possible. But now that I am here, I have a responsibility, so I might as well make the best of it. I've been trying to change a few things in how we run our businesses, but some things are so entrenched in people's mentalities..." He shakes his head.

"How do you plan on doing that?"

"By setting an example," he gives me half a smile. "That's why my wife should be privy to what's happening around us."

"That's... I don't know what to say." I'm surprised by his statement. Growing up, I'd been told countless times that I was an accessory, and that my value depended on the man I attached myself to. When I got pregnant with Claudia, I lost all my value for the famiglia. I was suddenly persona non grata.

"I don't want my sisters, or our children to conform to this anachronistic type of thinking. I don't care how much of a tradition it is for a woman to be nothing else but a stay-at-home mother. They should be their own person," he adds, and I can feel a little moisture forming in my eyes. I quickly blink it away.

"You have no idea how much that means to me. I was never seen as a person, rather as an opportunity for my family. I witnessed my sisters being sold into marriage like cattle, and then I had to wait around until it was my turn." My lip curls in distaste. "When I got pregnant..." I feel a knot forming in my throat as I recall how I'd been treated by my family. "If it weren't for Enzo back then, I would have been homeless. My father said I'd brought shame to the family and that..." I take a deep breath. "That I was not his daughter anymore. My mother didn't dare intervene."

A whimper escapes my lips, and Marcello takes my hand in his, squeezing it in comfort.

"You can do whatever you want, you know that, right? Maybe not right now because it's so dangerous, but once that's over..."

I give a nervous laugh.

"I don't even think I'd know what to do," I muse. The thing with freedom is that it's great... until you get it. So many times I dreamed about what I would do if I were free. So many plans, and so many scenarios, and here I am. Free, but still trapped. Trapped in my head and in the endless possibilities. What if I make the wrong choice?

See... freedom is a dangerous thing.

"You'll find out," he says with a confidence I lack.

"You mentioned children," I change the subject, a little uncomfortable being put under the microscope like that. "Would you like children?"

"Would you?" he fires back.

"Yes," I say and look anywhere but at him. Having children with Marcello... I think I'd like that. Very much so, in fact. I blush at the thought.

"Then I would too."

"I haven't yet thanked you for the way you've treated Claudia. I know not all men would be as accommodating with their wife having another child and?—"

"Lina, stop."

My eyes flutter in surprise at his tone.

"She's part of you. That's enough for me."

I stare at him, unable to believe how I became this lucky. Not only is my husband handsome and powerful, but he is also so understanding and kind. I don't think anyone's been this nice to me...ever.

The server comes to clean the table and then he brings the soups.

"Have you heard anything about Father Guerra?"

Marcello shakes his head.

"It's odd, but so far they haven't reached out. Considering the letter they sent to Enzo, I find it a little unsettling."

"You think they're biding their time with something?" I'm a little afraid at the prospect. Not as much for myself, but for Claudia. I don't want her to become a target just to get back at me.

"Yes. And I don't like it."

I turn my attention to the soup. I take a spoonful, and I almost choke on a foreign object. Marcello rushes to my side, worried, and I immediately spit it out.

"Ugh," I heave, feeling a scratch down my throat.

"What..." Marcello looks at my hand where the object is, and I curse.

It's a ring. Claudia's ring.

"No..." I frown, shocked at what I'm seeing. How could it be here?

I turn my attention back to the soup and move my spoon around. Marcello grabs my hand, pulling it back.

"Lina..." He shakes his head, his attention on the bowl of soup. That's when I notice it. The tip is just above the liquid, but there's no mistaking it. It's a finger... a human finger.

With a cry, I jump back, falling down. No... this can't be...

"Claudia..." I whisper, a hysterical cry escaping my lips. "That's Claudia's ring... no..."

People are already gathering around us, whispering. Tears running down my cheeks, I grab onto Marcello.

"Call home. I need to speak with Claudia..." I'm yelling, all my common sense out the window. I need to make sure Claudia's fine.

It can't be...

The more I think about it, the more hysterical I get, despair taking over.

"Yes, your mother wants to talk to you," I vaguely hear Marcello say into his phone before passing it to me.

"Claudia?" I rasp out.

"Mamma? What's wrong?" she asks.

"Are you hurt anywhere? Are you okay?" My words are hurried, but I just need to know she's fine.

"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?" I release a breath.

"Good... good. Where is your ring?"

"Ring? I don't know... I must have forgotten it somewhere. But how did you know?" Her answer helps me calm down a little, so I just assure her that everything is fine and that I will see her at home.

I hang up and look to see Marcello's grim expression.

He gathers me into his arms, and I let myself go.

"I've got you," he whispers in my hair, his arms tightening around me. He swoops me up and carries me out of the restaurant, leaving everyone behind staring at us.

After I convinced myself that Claudia was fine, Marcello took me to his room and left me here.

He's been interviewing the staff for a couple of hours now, because someone must have been in the house to take the ring. But more than that... they must have known where we were going. That someone knows our movements and has personal access to us makes me sick to my stomach.

"Lina." Marcello opens the door and comes towards me. "I have people looking into the restaurant right now. We'll get whoever did this, I promise you."

"It's all my fault..." I shake my head. "If I hadn't killed Father Guerra... They are probably trying to get even, and now they are threatening my daughter." A sob catches in my throat at the thought. "It's all my fault."

"Don't say that, sweetheart." He kisses my forehead. "You did the right thing. You were so brave, Lina."

I succumb to the comfort of his embrace.

"When will this end?" I whisper.

"I'll keep you and Claudia safe. I promise you. As long as I'm alive, I won't let anyone hurt you."

"Thank you. Thank you." I keep murmuring.

I cry myself to sleep, with Marcello holding me so close I almost believe that nothing can harm me.

I wake up a while later and look around me, feeling disoriented. I take a couple of seconds to remember everything that happened and the fact that I'm in Marcello's room. He's not anywhere in sight, though.

I frown.

Getting out of bed, I go to look for him in his study.

"I gave her to you to protect her, and this happens?" My brother's voice booms from inside the study.

"I'm on it," Marcello replies, his voice clipped.

"Sure looks like it," Enzo replies sarcastically.

"Might want to check the basement," Marcello retorts. What does he mean by that?

"It's a declaration of war if I've ever seen one. And now they want us to go to their fucking banquet and pretend nothing happened?" Enzo curses, and my hand freezes on the doorknob.

"Which is why I'm not even considering bringing Catalina there."

I open the door.

"Where?"

If it's anything concerning me, then I should know it.

"Lina..." My brother groans, and Marcello purses his lips.

"What banquet?" I ask.

"You shouldn't have heard that."

"Didn't you say you'd discuss things with me?" I turn towards Marcello. "I have a right to know."

"Lina, it's not that simple," he replies, but I'm not having it.

"What banquet, Enzo?"

"The Guerras are having a banquet for the five families. The core leadership is expected to attend from each famiglia." He brings his glass to his lips and empties it.

"Why? Why now?"

"Keep your enemies close." Enzo goes to the liquor cabinet and fills his glass again. "It's a matter of perspective, really. They want a show of force, but they also want to gauge the competition. Both our families," he inclines his head towards Marcello, "have experienced a rather abrupt change in leadership. Marchesi is basically dumpster diving for power and DeVille..." he pauses. "They are as they've always been. Closed off."

"What happens if we don't go?" I ask, afraid I already know the answer.

"A personal affront," Marcello shrugs at the same time that Enzo says, "War."

"Okay, so we need to go."

"No, we don't."

"But that's the thing, isn't it? They expect us not to go. And that's one more reason for them to formally go against us."

Enzo smirks and tips his glass in my direction.

"And that's why you're my favorite sister."

"If we go," Marcello starts, "and that is a big if , we won't know what to expect. We're on their territory."

"I want to go," I say, suddenly determined. "I can't let them bully me anymore. Tell me, how long do you think until these little games turn serious and they end up really targeting me, or even worse, Claudia? If we don't go, it's just like telling them they've succeeded with their threats."

"We still don't know if the Guerras were involved with the restaurant," Marcello notes.

"You might not know, but I do. I can feel it. And it's only going to get worse."

They are both silent for a moment before Enzo remarks,

"I'll be there."

I look at Marcello, and he doesn't seem at all pleased by the turn of events. He reluctantly agrees.

After Enzo leaves, I ask Marcello why he's so willing to risk a large-scale conflict just to spare me some discomfort. His answer, though, floors me.

"I never want to see you hurt again, Lina. And I know these people... They will hit below the belt."

"I can take it."

"I'm not sure I can..."