Mafiosa

‘Speaking of which …’ I said, looking at the net curtains as they rippled, and waving to let her know everything was fine.

Evelina swung the door open and took a step backwards into the hallway. ‘Sophie? Is everything OK?’

We stepped inside, out of the darkness, and I pushed Luca in front of me so he could see. So he could witness possibility made flesh before him. His grip in mine grew harder. ‘Mio Dio.’

Evelina gasped into her hands, her dark eyes wide with disbelief.

‘Evelina,’ Luca breathed, wonder trilling in his voice. ‘You’re alive.’

She dropped her hands, a smile lighting up her face. ‘La mia star, so are you.’

And then they were embracing each other, laughing and crying as they hugged, and when they finally broke apart, neither of them quite believing their eyes, I was crying, too. We huddled together in that hallway – three Mafia runaways escaping from the underworld, and coming to live inside the possibility of a better future.

The path was dark, but somewhere in the distance, there was a flicker of light.

We could see it now.

I could see it.

MAFIA BLOOD WAR ERUPTS AT MAYOR’S YACHT PARTY, KILLING SEVEN, INJURING TWELVE

A star-studded New Year’s Eve party ended in tragedy on Friday night as rival Mafia gangs went head-to-head in front of hundreds of terrified onlookers.

In a strike thought to be connected to the Christmas Day Marino Massacre, where eight men and two women lost their lives, Elena Genovese-Falcone, sister of Donata Marino and widow of deceased mob boss Angelo Falcone, confronted her sister aboard the mayor of Chicago’s private yacht party. Armed with a switchblade, she attacked the current Marino mob boss in front of shocked bystanders. Donata Marino died from a single stab wound in the chest. Witnesses report that Donata’s cousin, Romano Marino, immediately opened fire on the crowd, killing Elena Genovese-Falcone, her son Dominico Falcone, and nephew, Calvino Falcone Jr, a minor. Security guard Ronald Smythe and dental hygienist Dawn Fierri lost their lives in the shooting, while a further twelve partygoers were injured. Several witnesses reported seeing three men jumping from the upper deck of the yacht into the near-freezing Lake Michigan, but search and rescue missions have failed to recover any bodies, and have now been called off.

Gunman Romano Marino was shot and killed by an armed bodyguard as the mayor was rushed to safety. This latest shootout marks the culmination of a particularly bloody period in Chicago’s underworld, while Donata Marino’s death is believed to spell the end of the active Marino dynasty. Several members of the Falcone crime family remain at large, and are currently wanted by the police for questioning. Sources close to the family have claimed that Nicoli Falcone has recently assumed leadership of the infamous dynasty. Falcone is the younger brother of the recently deceased ‘blue-eyed assassin’ Valentino Falcone and son of the late Angelo ‘Angelmaker’ Falcone. He is purported to be the youngest boss in Falcone history. The identity of the underboss remains unknown.

The investigation continues.

EPILOGUE

The music from the radio was vibrating against the car windows, our voices drowning out the lyrics as we sang shamelessly at the top of our lungs. Luca was tapping a rhythm on the steering wheel, side-glancing at me with mock outrage as I pealed into another fit of laughter. Our fingers were entwined on the armrest between us, our faces pressed to the city as it rose to meet us.

It was summertime in Chicago, and my heart was full of possibility.

‘There it is,’ I shouted over the music. ‘My one true love. Chicago.’

Luca pressed a hand to his heart. ‘That hurts.’

‘Were the buildings always so sparkly?’ I asked.

‘Was the sky always this blue?’ he replied.

I batted my eyelashes at him. ‘Can I know what the surprise is now?’

‘Nope,’ he said sweetly. ‘Absolutely not.’

We drove into the heart of the city, Luca constantly rebuffing my curiosity, me refusing to relinquish it. Finally, we parked our rented Camaro in a garage on West Washington Street, and by the time I got out, I was almost ready to throttle him.

‘Now can I know?’

He strode on to the street, beckoning for me to follow him.

‘Why do you have to be so incessantly curious all the time?’ ‘Why do you have to be so incessantly annoying?’

He grinned at me over his shoulder. ‘Just am, I suppose.’

I glared at the back of his head. ‘I don’t like surprises, I’ll have you know.’

‘You liked it when Millie came to visit you last week, didn’t you? That was a surprise.’

‘That was different,’ I said pointedly. ‘My love for Millie outweighs my distrust of surprises.’

Luca shrugged. ‘Well, fortunately for me, I quite enjoy them.’

‘You do not,’ I said, jogging to keep up with his purposeful strides. He was dressed in jeans and army boots, his blue T-shirt rippling in the light breeze, and I was really trying to stay focused but even from the back, he was unfairly dazzling. ‘You hate surprises.’

‘OK, I’ll amend that. I really enjoy Sophie-directed surprises.’ He paused, and then added, ‘Specifically when I’m the one doing the surprising.’

He slowed his pace, as if remembering that some of us weren’t over six feet tall. ‘Don’t keel over on me now,’ he said warningly. ‘It will ruin everything.’