Chapter 7 - What Lorenzo Said When No One Else Could Hear
Dominic Moretti survived surgery.
Sophie considered that appropriate.
Death would have been quick.
The truth would take longer.
Italian authorities detained him on charges connected to financial crimes, weapons, and Antonio Vitale's murder. Evidence from the workshop linked his accounts to payments made before the killing.
American prosecutors immediately began preparing extradition requests related to Carlo Moretti's death and decades of organized criminal activity.
For the first time in twenty years, newspapers printed Antonio Vitale's name beside the word innocent.
Sophie bought one copy.
Then another.
Then five.
Lorenzo found her sitting on the steps outside the old Vitale house surrounded by newspapers.
"Planning to open a kiosk?"
She looked up.
"My grandmother should have seen this."
He sat beside her.
"Maybe she knew."
"She died thinking the world still believed my father was a traitor."
"Elena never cared much about the world."
Sophie smiled.
"You remember her."
"I remember being afraid of her."
"Everyone was."
Lorenzo looked toward the olive grove.
"I owe you an apology."
She raised an eyebrow.
"Only one?"
"Several."
"Start alphabetically."
He almost smiled.
"For Leveta."
"Oh."
"I was cruel."
"Yes."
"Arrogant."
"Absolutely."
"And wrong."
She looked at him.
"That part hurt, didn't it?"
"Immensely."
She laughed.
Lorenzo continued.
"I saw a waitress and decided I knew your worth."
"You saw someone you thought couldn't answer back."
"Yes."
"That's worse."
"I know."
The directness surprised her.
No excuses.
No claim he had been testing her.
No attempt to make the insult smaller.
"I'm sorry, Sofia."
She looked at him for a long moment.
"Thank you."
He nodded.
"Still don't like you."
"I assumed."
"You're slightly less unbearable."
"I'll put that on my grave."
Silence settled.
Not uncomfortable.
Different.
Sophie looked toward the house.
"What happens to your family now?"
"Changes."
"What kind?"
"The kind people will hate."
Lorenzo had spent the last several days speaking with attorneys, legitimate business partners, and several family captains.
Sylvio's arrest had exposed too much.
Dominic's records exposed more.
Federal attention was intensifying.
Lorenzo had a choice.
Rebuild the old organization.
Or dismantle enough of it to survive differently.
"My father built legitimate companies too," he said. "Shipping. Warehouses. Construction."
"And the other businesses?"
"They end."
Sophie studied him.
"Just like that?"
"No."
"Then?"
"Painfully."
She appreciated that answer more.
"I don't expect sainthood," Lorenzo said. "But I don't want my son discovering twenty years from now that I built his life on graves."
Sophie looked at him.
"Your son?"
"Hypothetical."
"Good. I was wondering if there was another secret Moretti."
"Not that I know of."
They both laughed.
That evening, Teresa insisted on a family dinner in Palermo.
"Family" now included Sophie.
She protested.
Teresa ignored her.
Mateo sat beside Father Gabriel, who had flown to Sicily despite three different doctors advising against it.
Halfway through dinner, Teresa raised a glass.
"To Antonio."
Everyone stood.
Sophie stared at the wine.
"To Carlo," she added.
Lorenzo looked at her.
"To the sons who were made enemies," Teresa said, "and the children who refused to remain enemies."
They drank.
Later, Sophie escaped to the terrace.
Lorenzo followed.
"You know following women around at night is how this started."
"I remember."
"Bad habit."
"I'm working on it."
The Sicilian countryside stretched beneath moonlight.
Sophie leaned against the stone railing.
"What happens when we go back to New York?"
"You return to Leveta?"
She laughed.
"Absolutely not."
"I tipped well."
"You insulted the staff."
"One member."
"Who happened to understand you."
"Unfortunately."
She looked at him.
"Unfortunately?"
"For my dignity."
That finally earned the smile he had been trying to provoke.
Lorenzo watched it too long.
Sophie noticed.
The air changed.
She looked away first.
"Don't."
"Don't what?"
"Whatever you're doing."
"I'm standing."
"You're staring."
"I stare at everyone."
"Not like that."
Lorenzo became quiet.
Then, unexpectedly, honest.
"No. Not like that."
Sophie felt her pulse increase.
"This is a bad idea."
"I haven't suggested anything."
"Your face has."
"My face is famously unreadable."
"Your face is currently illiterate."
He laughed.
A real laugh.
Sophie stared.
Lorenzo stopped.
"What?"
"The restaurant staff said you hadn't smiled since 1999."
"That is ridiculous."
"So 1998?"
He shook his head.
She smiled again.
Then the humor faded.
"Lorenzo."
"Yes?"
"Everything between us began because our families destroyed each other."
"Our families were manipulated."
"Same result."
"I know."
"I don't want gratitude confused with something else."
"Neither do I."
"Or trauma."
"No."
"Or the fact that we've been shot at together twice."
"Three times."
She frowned.
"Three?"
"The church window."
"That barely counts."
"It counts."
She laughed softly.
Then Lorenzo stepped closer.
Not touching.
Giving her space.
"If nothing happens between us," he said, "I will still be grateful I met you."
That surprised her.
"No pressure?"
"I've recently learned pressure is not an effective strategy with you."
"Very recently."
He nodded.
"But if something does happen, it won't be because Antonio died or Carlo died or because Dominic wanted us to hate each other."
His eyes held hers.
"It will be because I like the woman who told me I bark like a dog."
Sophie felt heat rise into her face.
"That's disturbingly romantic by Mafia standards."
"I'm improving."
Before she could answer, Mateo appeared in the doorway.
"I hate everything about this."
Sophie jumped back.
Lorenzo glared.
Mateo held up a phone.
"Unfortunately, romance dies because New York is on fire."
Lorenzo took the phone.
Several Moretti businesses had been attacked.
Russo family vehicles had been seen nearby.
Vittorio Russo had decided Dominic's collapse created an opportunity.
"He's moving against you," Sophie said.
Lorenzo nodded.
Mateo added, "And he's telling everyone Sofia Vitale is controlling you."
Sophie stared.
"Me?"
"Apparently you're some kind of Sicilian witch now."
She folded her arms.
"I waited tables three nights ago."
"Congratulations on the promotion."
Lorenzo's expression hardened.
"Vittorio wants the old war."
Sophie thought about her father's words.
Blood is inheritance, not destiny.
"Then don't give it to him."
Lorenzo looked at her.
"What do you suggest?"
She smiled faintly.
"Something your enemies will hate more than bullets."
May you like
"What?"
"Make them irrelevant."
