The passcode was Bianca Marchetti's birthday.
His messaging app was still open in the background. There was only one contact. Saved under the name Bianca.
I tapped in, and there it was, five years of conversation stretching from then to now. Every single day, the good-mornings and good-nights, never once missed. Bianca lived across the water, yet she sent Lorenzo her schedule each day. Either she was out shopping and taking her coffee, or she was tending whatever front she ran, sitting through her own little sit-downs. No matter what she sent, Lorenzo never let her down. One photo earned her a reward of a hundred thousand dollars. That was how he stayed woven into her life, day after day. Until ten thousand photos filled the album.
And when I shared something with him, all I ever got was one line:
"Adriana, I'm in a meeting. We'll talk when the Family's business is done."
To keep Bianca happy, every gift he bought on this side of the water passed through hand after hand before it finally reached her. The auction-house orders ran on for dozens of screens. A lot of the names looked familiar. Lorenzo had given me one of those gifts too. It was nothing but a complimentary throw-in from one of her auctions.
The newest video in the album was from five hours ago. The thumbnail was me, sunk into unconsciousness after the pills he fed me. Around me stood a dozen faces I knew. Made men. Soldiers who had kissed his ring.
My fingers shook so badly I couldn't make the video open, no matter how hard I pressed. In the end I clumsily hit delete. And switched off his phone.
Lorenzo, since we began with a lie. This time, let me end it with one too.
Without hesitating, I sent a message to Francesca Conti. I told her to bring a boat to the far side and wait for me tomorrow night. Then I found the papers I needed, the dissolution of the alliance, a release I would sign in my own hand, downloaded the digital copy, and attached it to an email.
When it was all done, cold sweat broke out across the sleeping Lorenzo's forehead. He murmured the words over and over:
"Adriana... no, nothing can happen to you."
"Adriana!"
The instant his eyes opened, he pulled me into his arms like a man who'd lost me and gotten me back. Our chests pressed tight together, our heartbeats running at different speeds. After a long moment, he surfaced from the nightmare.
"Thank God you're all right."
His thumb found the edge of his wedding ring and turned it, slow, against my back.
Scenes like this had played out so many times. I used to think it was love run deep, that he ached where I ached. But now I saw it for what it was. A performance. Nothing but masterful acting.
I bowed my head and let him hold me, let him comfort me.
"There now. I'll go bring you something to eat. Wait for me."
Lorenzo had barely stepped out before I slipped after him. He didn't go to the kitchens. He turned instead toward the private lounge downstairs, the one where deals got struck and nothing that happened was ever spoken of again.
The moment he walked in, a slender wrist curled up over his shoulder. And pulled him inside.
I stood outside the door, listening to the breathing inside quicken fast. Lorenzo's voice came low and restrained:
"So you finally decided to come back?"
Bianca's face bloomed into a smile as she rose on her toes and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth.
"If I'd stayed away any longer, I was afraid you'd really fall for Adriana."
"I heard you pulled the same old trick again? She's your wife of five years, sworn to you before every Family, and she'd just gotten pregnant. How could you bear it..."
"If Adriana ever finds out, she'd want to skin me alive." She laughed, that bright, brittle little sound, a half-beat too soon.
Lorenzo laughed softly at her teasing, holding her tighter, pinning her against the back of the door.
"I told you. As long as I'm here, no one would dare touch you."
"As long as you're happy. You'd pave my road with her own flesh and blood."
A passing waiter spotted me and gasped out loud.
"Donna Falcone? What are you doing here? You haven't recovered, you can't be wandering the halls. If the Don finds out, it's our skins he'll have."
"Let me take you back."
The words trailed off.
The made men walking past all looked at me with something mocking in their eyes.
"That's the Don's wife? The one a dozen men dragged into a lounge a little while ago? I heard she's already been used twice. The Don really isn't an ordinary man, swallowing all that down without a word."
