‘I was just saying,’ he protested, sulkily.
‘I miss the old days,’ Cosimo sighed. ‘I would have enjoyed this more.’
‘We’ll tell you all about it, don’t worry,’ Nic assured him.
Cosimo dipped his head in appreciation. ‘I’d so love to see the Marino girl take down the Marino boss,’ he said, pointing at me.
‘What a coup,’ agreed the lady next to him.
‘Indeed,’ said Elena.
I mustered a confident smile. I had been hurtling towards this moment ever since I came to Evelina, but now that we were almost on the eve of it, my stomach was constantly churning – fresh plumes of anxiety filling me up, threatening to choke the courage out of me. After Valentino’s death, it had become unavoidably apparent just how close we all were to our own demise. Still, if I cowered behind closed doors, Donata would still come for me, for all of us, like she did that day in Holy Name Cathedral. We had to get them before they could get us. We would not underestimate them again.
I didn’t realize Luca was looking at me until I turned my attention back to him. He caught himself, and refocused.
‘The time?’ asked Cosimo. ‘Please, a little more clarity.’
The respect that Luca instantly commanded from the family had been a little jarring at first. It was as if the day he stepped into the role and vowed to avenge his twin brother’s death, everyone saw him in a new light. They enveloped him gratefully, deferring to his authority without so much as a backward glance – even the older members, the ones who had survived many bosses by now. Luca was the one they were waiting for, and they weren’t afraid to dip their heads in respect to him.
Luca took a step back until his head was framed by the three Marino photographs. He was sure and confident when he answered, and the ripple of his conviction travelled down the table and strengthened the family.
‘One p.m., Christmas Day, at the Marino mansion.’
‘Perfect,’ said Nic.
The others murmured their agreement.
Luca smiled; it was small, and practised, and cold as ice. ‘Buon Natale, Donata Marino.’
The Falcone family laughed, echoes of ‘Buon Natale’ rising up with their amusement.
I laughed too, but I don’t know whether it came from my brain or my heart.
Merry Christmas indeed.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHRISTMAS EVE
‘Thanks for coming all the way out here, Mil.’ I pulled my best friend into an embrace and tugged her across the threshold. Her hair smelt like apples and her face was perfectly made-up. She was tucked up to the chin in a goose-feathered cream coat. She looked like a snow queen. ‘You look beautiful.’
‘So do you!’ she said brightly, the smile coming easily to her face. ‘God, it’s freezing. I nearly skidded off the road on my way in.’ She shivered involuntarily. ‘I think it’s time I got a fancier car.’
‘Well, it would match your coat,’ I said.
‘Do you like it?’ She did a twirl. ‘Cris got it for me. Turns out he’s stinking rich.’
I arched a brow. ‘He just gets better by the day.’
She shrugged. ‘It compensates for his obsession with mindfulness colouring books.’
I shut the door behind her and she lowered her voice, the joviality seeping away. ‘How has it been here?’
‘Still the same,’ I told her quietly. I ushered her upstairs towards my room, where we would have privacy.
‘It must be especially hard at Christmas,’ she said, following me up. ‘Are you sure you’re OK to stay here? You’re still grieving for your mum. Maybe this place isn’t the right home for you at the moment. You know you can always come to the cottage with me and my family, right? We’re not leaving until later …’
‘Mil, I really appreciate it—’
‘But …’ she cut in, sensing my hesitation.
‘I need to be here with everyone. They’re my family now.’ I conveniently left out the second part of my reasoning: the Marino Massacre. By this time tomorrow, the death toll would have risen. Every time I thought about the potential casualties on our side, it made me feel sick, so I pushed it away.
‘How is Luca coping?’ Millie asked delicately. I shut the door to my room and we both dropped on to the bed.
As a boss? Exceedingly good. As a normal guy grieving his brother? Terrible. ‘He’ll be OK. We don’t really talk about it.’ The rest was too painful to admit. We don’t really talk about anything any more.
‘And you’re staying out of trouble?’ Millie asked. ‘All that stuff in the newspaper about the blood war …’
‘I told you, it’s nonsense.’ I waved away her concern. ‘Zola had a grudge and tried to settle it. She’s dead. So it’s over now.’
‘Are you safe?’ She shuffled closer, studying me. ‘Tell me you’re safe.’
‘I’m safe,’ I lied. ‘Safer than you, probably. You might get eaten by a bear at your cottage.’
She smiled grimly. ‘Don’t even joke about that. You know I have zero survival skills.’
Unlike me, I thought.
‘I feel sad,’ she said after a moment. ‘Isn’t that strange? I’m only leaving for a few days, but I feel sad that you’ll be here and I’ll be there. Why do I feel so sad?’
I grabbed her hand and squeezed it. ‘It’s a sad house, that’s all. It’s this atmosphere. Try not to let it get to you. It’s Christmas. There’s no reason for you to be sad.’ I blinked away the threat of tears. The truth was, I didn’t know for sure if I would see Millie again after today. I didn’t know if I would end up in jail, or in the ground. I didn’t know anything any more. I just knew I was walking into the Marino house with my family and helping to put an end to all the wrongdoing we had suffered at their hands.
‘We’ll be happy in the new year,’ Millie said, the promise of it shimmering in her eyes. ‘Just hang in there a little longer and then we’ll get out of Chicago.’
‘Yes.’ The word was thick in my throat. ‘Of course we will.’
‘I got you this.’ She reached inside her coat and pulled out a present. ‘I hope you like it.’
I reached under the bed and fished her present out, too. ‘It’s not much,’ I said sheepishly, handing it over. It was just a scarf and gloves, and some funny socks. She deserved better. ‘I’m pretty broke and I’ve been confined to online shopping ever since Valentino passed away.’
Millie ripped open her present and buried her head in the scarf. ‘I love it,’ she whooped, wrapping it around her twice and then taking the gloves to try them on. ‘These are beautiful. I hope you didn’t overspend.’
I snorted. ‘I appreciate the overenthusiasm.’
She swatted a glove at me. ‘Open your gift.’
I opened the purple wrapping paper and a small Mason jar tumbled out. It had a purple cloth lid, and a heart hanging off the twine that encircled it.
‘It’s not honey,’ she said quickly. ‘Don’t freak out.’
I picked it up and read the heart aloud. ‘The Happy Jar,’ I said, glancing at her. ‘To be used when you are feeling sad or when you are experiencing Millie withdrawal symptoms.’