After making sure she was all right, I left the room without a look at her undoubtedly hurt face.

It was dishonorable to leave my wife like that after our first time together, after her first time, but the force of my guilt and confusion compelled me to seek isolation. I needed time to think, time to calm down.

Zita gave me a curious look as I passed her on the way to my office.

Once the door closed behind me, I staggered to my desk and sank down in the chair. My gaze landed on the picture of Carla. A new wave of guilt crashed down on me. Raking my fingers through my hair, I put the frame down, not able to bear my late wife’s eyes on me.

Another emotion mixed with the guilt over betraying Carla: guilt over how I treated Valentina. She’d done nothing wrong. Remembering the way, she’d given herself to me mere minutes ago only increased the weight on my conscience. I sank back in my chair.

As a rational man, I knew it was unreasonable to feel obligated to a dead woman when I had a breathing, feeling woman I was supposed to care for.

And yet, here I was, torn apart between the present and the past.

I picked up the frame, opened a desk drawer then hesitated before I finally stowed it inside and closed the drawer.

This wasn’t going to silence the past. My fingers lingered on the handle. With a sigh, I leaned back and closed my eyes.

The next day, I met with Giovanni, Rocco, and my father in the Scuderi mansion for our weekly meeting. Father regarded me with narrowed eyes as I stepped in. He had been keeping an even closer eye on me since my marriage. I wasn’t sure what he was waiting for.

I shook Rocco’s hand. “How’s married life treating you?”

I gave him a tight smile, not replying. My marriage was none of their business. Then I turned to Giovanni.

“How’s Val?” he asked quietly. Concern flickered in his eyes.

His question was difficult to answer. Valentina was unhappy with our current situation, last night hadn’t changed that. She wanted closeness on an emotional level. But she was a clever woman. Her asking me to work showed that. But even a job wouldn’t change Valentina’s unhappiness entirely. Yet, I had to admit my suggestion for her to take over as manager in the casino was fueled by the hope that she’d be too busy to ponder on our emotional estrangement. It seemed like the only way I could guarantee her happiness, and I wanted her to be happy. “She’s doing well. She wants to start working.”

Surprise filled Giovanni’s face. I crossed the room to Father who hadn’t risen from his armchair. “I assume you didn’t allow her that kind of nonsense,” he quipped.

Rocco motioned toward the armchair beside my father’s but I shook my head, preferring the higher vantage point when dealing with the old man. Rocco sank down, followed by Giovanni, waiting for my reply.

“I suggested that she could work in one of our Underground casinos.”

“The one near the Palermo?” Rocco guessed. I’d only recently killed the previous manager because he stole money from the Outfit.

“Yes.”

“Raffaele and Leonardo won’t like that. What is she supposed to do anyway? I don’t suppose you want her to be a complimentary girl,” Father muttered, smoothing back his white hair even though it was in place.

I narrowed my eyes at him. Giovanni’s face turned red with anger, his hand clenching around his knee.

“I expect everyone to show respect to my wife, you included, Father,” I said quietly. Many people in the Outfit would be offended by the mere idea of a Capo’s wife working, especially in a position of importance. It was a decision for Valentina.

Father’s eyes flashed with anger but I was the head of the Outfit now. While he was still greatly respected among our men, they saw me as the more capable leader, had done so for many years already. Father was old. It was time for him to die. Unfortunately, he clung to live like all narcists did.

Pushing my hands into my pockets, I said casually, “She’s going to manage the casino.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Father said, shaking his head. “Neither Leonardo nor Raffaele will listen to orders from a woman.”

Rocco’s expression was carefully blank but I suspected he shared my father’s views. He was too clever not to side with me though, and he’d try to convince my men of my standpoint even if he disagreed. He was an opportunist through and through, which was useful and appalling at once.

Father turned to Rocco as I’d expected. “You can’t agree with Dante’s choice.”

Rocco smiled tightly. “I trust my Capo to do what is best.”

Father’s mouth thinned. I preferred the term Capo, but he’d instilled the word Boss. This subtle use of Capo showed clearly which side Rocco was on: mine. His gratefulness extended into the present. Letting him live had proven useful in many ways over the years. He gave me a subtle nod, his eyes like that of a dog expecting a treat.

Father turned to Giovanni who, like Rocco, knew better than to show his sentiments openly. “You can’t possibly want your daughter to work. It’s not proper.”

“If it makes Val happy and if Dante agrees with it, I don’t see why I should disapprove. She’ll stop working once she’s a mother anyway.”

I stiffened. Having children was expected, especially now that I was in my thirties and my first marriage hadn’t produced any offspring. I fought against the flood of anger and sadness that bubbled up.

Father nodded grimly. “Whenever that is. But I’m sure Dante has everything planned out.” He didn’t say anything after that. Maybe he finally understood that his days of power were over. My word was law now. He’d still give me his opinion on the matter repeatedly no doubt.

After the meeting was over, I pulled Father aside. “I think it’s time for you to retire fully and stop attending my meetings with my men. Your presence undermines my authority and that’s something I can’t allow.”

“Allow?” Father repeated sharply. His old eyes met mine, trying to stare me down but as had been the result in the last few years, he eventually looked away. “Very well. If that’s what you want.”

“It is,” I said firmly.

I returned to the car but didn’t get the chance to start the engine before my phone rang. Mother. “What can I do for you?”

“I hear you’re allowing your wife to work?”

She heard it from Father of course. “Yes.”

“It’s going to cause a scandal, Dante. You’ve already offended many people by taking a widow, why do you insist on breaking my heart? Think of the Outfit!”

My mouth thinned at her theatrical performance. Her words brought my mind back to Valentina and our last night, tantalizing memories I didn’t want to replay while talking to my mother. “Mother, I’m leading the Outfit into the future. I have to hang up now. I’ve business to attend to.”

She let out a small sniff but I knew her fake cries. I ended the call. During my drive home, my phone binged again. Chancing a glance down, I caught the message from Ines.

I’m proud of you.

My mouth twitched.

Allowing Valentina to work was partly to my benefit of course. She was busy and had less time to seek my company. As I’d expected, the past wasn’t easily put to rest. I avoided Valentina’s closeness as much as possible during the day, but at night my desire always won out. I’d never been this unrestrained, this dominated by my needs. Valentina was unaware of her power over me, and not just by night. Even during the day, I caught myself thinking of her. Something about the way she insisted on pushing my limits intrigued me.