Chapter 1 - THE WORDS THAT MADE THE MAFIA BOSS GO SILENT
The moment Isabella Romano turned away from Rosa DeLuca's table, the most feared man in Chicago spoke her name.
“Isabella.”
She stopped.
Her heart gave an uncomfortable little jump.
She hadn't introduced herself.
At least, she didn't remember doing so.
Marco DeLuca stood beside the booth, his broad shoulders blocking the warm light from the wall lamps.
His mother remained seated, pressing a linen napkin against her eyes.
“Who taught you those words?” Marco asked.
Isabella tightened her grip on the empty breadbasket.
“My grandmother.”
“Her name.”
The demand irritated her.
She was tired, her feet hurt, and she had already spent nine hours smiling at people who treated waitresses like furniture.
“Most people say please.”
One of Marco's bodyguards stopped breathing.
Marco stared at her.
Then, to Isabella's surprise, the corner of his mouth moved.
“Please.”
She hesitated.
“Lucia Romano.”
Rosa made a strangled sound.
The elderly woman's napkin slipped from her fingers.
“Lucia?”
Isabella turned.
“Yes, ma'am.”
Rosa reached across the table.
“Your grandmother was Lucia Romano?”
Isabella nodded.
“She passed away when I was seventeen.”
Rosa's eyes filled with tears.
“Did she have a little scar beneath her chin?”
Isabella froze.
“Yes.”
Rosa covered her mouth.
For a moment, she seemed unable to breathe.
Marco crouched beside his mother.
“Mamma?”
Rosa gripped his sleeve.
“Marco, I need you to listen carefully.”
He leaned closer.
The elderly woman whispered something in Italian.
Isabella caught only three words.
La bambina perduta.
The lost little girl.
Marco's expression changed.
He looked at Isabella with an intensity that made her uncomfortable.
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-six.”
“Your birthday?”
“August seventeenth.”
His mother's face drained of color.
Rosa began crying harder.
“Madonna mia.”
Isabella stepped closer.
“Are you feeling all right? Can I get you some water?”
Rosa shook her head.
“Your mother. What was her name?”
Isabella swallowed.
“Adriana.”
The old woman closed her eyes.
Marco slowly stood.
“Isabella, I need to speak with you somewhere private.”
She immediately shook her head.
“I'm working.”
“I'll speak to your manager.”
“No.”
Her answer came faster than she intended.
Marco stopped.
She took a breath.
“I don't know what this is about, but I need my job. If someone sees me disappearing with a customer, I'll get written up.”
For several seconds, he studied her.
Then he nodded.
“Fair enough.”
Rosa reached into her handbag.
Her trembling fingers withdrew a small silver pendant.
It was shaped like a rose.
At its center was a tiny blue stone.
Isabella stopped breathing.
She had seen that necklace before.
Not recently.
Not since childhood.
But she remembered her mother wearing one exactly like it.
Rosa opened the pendant.
Inside was a faded photograph of two little girls.
One had dark curls.
The other wore a white ribbon.
On the back were two names.
Adriana and Sofia.
Rosa looked up.
“Isabella, your grandmother wasn't simply someone I knew.”
Her voice broke.
“She was my sister.”
Isabella gripped the back of a chair.
May you like
Then Rosa whispered something that made the entire room seem to tilt.
“And your mother didn't die the way your father told you.”
