Raffaele’s tone is such that I feel my stomach tighten. All the delicious food I ingested is turning to acid. I hold Raffaele’s gaze and refuse to look away. I won’t show weakness because a woman in Ultimo Morte is strong, and she rises to any adversity she faces. I’m used to the unexpected happening. Guido’s health challenges were difficult, but I have the sense that what Raffaele is about to tell me is going to rock me to my core.
The silence is deafening. I can’t take it anymore. “Have I done something wrong?” I’m proud of myself: my voice was steady and even.
Raffaele shakes his head and taps his finger on the table. “No. Not at all.”
Okay, that’s good. I’m not in trouble, so this must be about my father and his desire to have me go live back home. I’ve been able to keep my father at bay for the last few months. As a matter of fact, Dad hasn’t asked me since the funeral to come home. I thought that was odd, considering my father is a dog with a bone when he makes a decision. I guess my time is up.
Raffaele and Ivo rise to their feet, Ivo pulling out my chair and guiding me to walk with them into the living room. My legs are shaking, and I’m grateful for Ivo linking my arm through his to lead me to the sofa where Raffaele indicates for me to sit. Ivo fades into the background, and Raffaele paces in front of me.
When he finally sits in the armchair, he leans forward with his elbows on his knees directly before me. “Do you remember the day Ivo and I came to see Guido almost a month before he was killed?”
“Yes.”
“Guido called and asked me to come that night and wanted Ivo to come with me,” he says.
Raffaele looks at me like he’s waiting for me to respond. “He wasn’t much for visitors, but it’s good that he got to spend time with you.”
“He had his reasons for wanting to see us. And the main reason was you,” he says.
“Me!” I squeak. I clear my throat. “Why would he want to talk about me?”
“Guido loved you very much and wanted to make sure that you were looked after should anything happen to him. You and I both know he wasn’t a healthy man. That night, he showed me a medical report that confirmed the diagnosis of an illness that would eventually take his life. I think this is what prompted him to call me,” Raffaele explains.
“An illness?” I’m confused. Why would Guido not tell me about his diagnosis? We’d shared so much of our thoughts and feelings; we even cried together. “What kind of illness?”
“ALS,” he says.
I gasp.
“Guido was steadily getting worse, and his condition was progressing rapidly. His intention was to put his affairs in order. He didn’t want anyone else making decisions on his behalf.”
“I can understand that. He was a very proud man, and he trusted you implicitly.” Guido was very fond of Raffaele. Raffaele was the only person Guido would receive even when he had an off day. One would think it was because he was his capo, but in truth, they had a friendship that grew after Guido became wheelchair-bound.
“His biggest concern was your future. Guido was well aware that your father would want you to return and live under his roof. He didn’t want this for you. He wanted to give you time to accept his death and grieve in your own way.” He pauses and flicks his eyes over to Ivo, who’s standing in the far corner of the room. “You realize it would be expected that your father would find another match for you, and you would remarry. This is our way. Normally, I wouldn’t interfere in the private lives of my men and their families, but Guido specifically asked me to intervene.”
“My father’s found a husband for me, hasn’t he?” I say without waiting for his response. “It’s too soon.”
“Elisa, your father hasn’t chosen a future husband for you. Guido has done this himself,” he says.
I’m stunned into silence, gaping at Raffaele. Raffaele gives me a moment to reflect on what he’s said. I believe him; this is something Guido would do to protect me from having to deal with my father.
In the weeks before his death, Guido was constantly telling me that I needed a man who could take care of me properly. I thought nothing of it at the time. He’d said things like this before, and it was only talk.
“Who would he choose? He wasn’t close to anyone,” I say, my mouth dry and my hands clammy. Raffaele looks to Ivo, who has stepped closer to us, then back at me. He doesn’t need to say it. I already know who Guido has chosen.
I’m frozen, my gaze fixed on Ivo as he comes to sit next to me. I’m not sure how I feel. Wait! Yes, I do! I’m outraged and hurt. How could Guido do this to me? I lay awake with him when his pain was at his worst and nursed him through the countless therapies we tried to see if we could get him walking again. I cried with him when he finally came to accept that walking again was never going to happen for him. I consoled him and loved him every moment of every day that he was with me. I told him every day how grateful I was that he chose to marry me.
“You’re angry,” Ivo states matter-of-factly. His expression is unreadable, giving nothing away. But he too must be upset. Why on earth would he agree to such a thing?
“Of course I’m upset!” I cry, throwing my hand out to him. “You should be too. Why would you agree to this?” I stand and turn my back to them, inhaling deeply, pressing my hands over my erratically beating heart, taking a couple of breaths, and slowly running my hands down over my skirt to regain composure.
“Elisa,” Ivo says.
I whip around to see him smirking. “Do you think this is funny? It isn’t. We’re talking about the rest of our lives,” I say, raising my voice. All of a sudden, Adriana comes to mind. “Oh my God, and Adriana. What will this do to her? Three lives, Ivo!” I shout, holding up three fingers. “Three!”
“Please calm down,” Raffaele says. “Come and sit.” He points to the space I vacated. He waits for me to do his bidding, then continues. “I can understand how this could be troubling for you. This came out of the blue, but this was Guido’s final request, and he had very good reasons for doing so.” Raffaele leans back in his chair. “Do you know your father has been approached by several men already for your hand? Guido wasn’t even in the ground, and your father was making arrangements for your next husband. It’s not out of malice. It’s just what we do. Luigi is old, and he doesn’t have the energy to deal with what’s to come. Traditionally, it’s his job to see his daughter settled with a man who can look after her. It was I who stopped him from moving forward based on the promise we made to Guido.”
I knew Dad would come to me sooner or later, and frankly, I’m surprised that he hasn’t broached the subject, but I actually thought he was being considerate of my loss and giving me time. I turn to Ivo.
“I understand that I may not have a choice in the matter, but you did. Why would you go along with it?” I ask. Ivo is one of the most sought-after men in Ultimo Morte, not only because he’s one of the hottest men I’ve ever seen, but because of his position of consigliere. I remember the women clawing for his attention, but he only had eyes for Maria. Even after Maria’s death, I’ve heard stories of underbosses throwing their daughters under his nose to get them noticed.
“It’s very simple, Elisa,” Ivo explains. “Guido begged me to make sure that you were taken care of and that you would want for nothing. He wanted you to have a good life. Guido knew I could give you that, and I will. He was also upset that you never got to be a mother and thought you’d make a fabulous one. Adriana’s getting older, and she needs a woman around to help guide her through the difficult moments. I can see you’re compassionate and gentle. Adriana needs you, and my little girl deserves someone who can love her as her mother would have done. You see, we each have what the other needs.”
“What about love?” I whisper, searching his face.
“Love is a luxury we don’t have time for. It’s an emotion we both shared with other people, and they’re gone. Respect, kindness, and honesty are what we can base our marriage upon,” he says evenly, then adds, “and fidelity.”
Raffaele clears his throat, and we turn to face him. “You both have much to work out. Ivo will be coming to box up Guido’s office. Three months have passed since Guido’s death, and, as per his instructions, we’ll wait three more before the marriage. In the meantime, Evangeline and I will be here to help you in any way we can.” His tone becomes stern and firm. “Hear me: these are my final words. Do not make a liar out of me to a dead man.”
Raffaele gets up and leaves the room. His final words, he said. A shudder races down my spine.