THREE

THALIA

My father arrived the way he always did when he was pissed off, loud and impossible to ignore. I heard him before I saw him, his voice carrying through the hallways of the Torrisi compound as he demanded to see me immediately. Rosa had tried to give me breakfast earlier but I couldn't eat, my stomach was too twisted up in knots thinking about what was coming. Now it was here.

The door to my room swung open without a knock. Dad stood there looking older than I remembered, his salt and pepper hair more salt than pepper now, lines around his mouth deeper. Behind him were my brothers. Nico first, twenty-eight and already taking over parts of the family operations. Then Vincent, twenty-six and always spoiling for a fight. Finally Luca, twenty-four and the most level-headed of the three even though that wasn't saying much.

"Out," Dad told them without looking back.

My brothers hesitated but they knew better than to argue when he used that tone. They filed out and the door closed again, leaving me alone with Domenic Corsini and whatever lecture he'd prepared during the drive over.

He didn't say anything at first. Just looked at me standing there in my borrowed mourning clothes, probably seeing all the ways I'd disappointed him. I'd always been good at disappointing him, ever since I was sixteen and decided I wanted to study art instead of business. Since I refused to learn the details of family operations. Since I tried to run away with that boy from college and Dad had to clean up my mess.

"Tell me exactly what happened," he said finally.

So I did. Third time now telling this story and it didn't get any easier. The wedding night, the conversation with Rafael, the door opening, the gun, Rafael covering me with his body. The seven shots. The blood. All of it spilled out while Dad stood there with his arms crossed, face getting harder with every detail.

When I finished he was quiet for a long moment. Then he walked to the window and looked out at the grounds like they held some kind of answer he needed.

"Salvatore thinks you were the target," he said.

"Marco said the same thing."

"Which means someone wanted to destroy the alliance by killing you on Torrisi property. Make it look like they couldn't protect a Corsini under their own roof." He turned back to face me. "You understand what that means, Thalia? Someone wanted to start a war. And they almost succeeded."

I sat down on the edge of the bed because my legs were starting to shake. "Salvatore wants me to marry Dante. To keep the alliance intact."

"I know. He called me this morning." Dad came closer, stood right in front of me. "Is that what you want?"

The question surprised me. Since when did what I wanted matter to Domenic Corsini? He'd arranged my first marriage without asking my opinion. Had my college boyfriend killed and forced me to terminate my pregnancy, then locked me away in Switzerland for a year when I couldn't handle it. My wants had never been relevant before.

"Does it matter what I want?" I asked.

"Answer the question."

I thought about it. Really thought about it instead of just reacting. Did I want to marry Dante? No. Obviously not. The man looked at me like I was something he'd scraped off his shoe. But staying married into the Torrisi family meant I could figure out who'd killed Rafael. Who'd tried to kill me. If I went back to Boston, back to my father's house, I'd never know. I'd spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder waiting for the next attempt.

"I want to know who did this," I said. "I want to know who pulled that trigger and why they wanted me dead. And I can't find out if I'm back home being protected and kept in the dark like always."

Something shifted in Dad's expression. Not quite approval but close to it. "So you'll marry him."

"I'll marry him. But I need something from you first."

His eyebrows went up. I'd never negotiated with my father before. Never had the guts to try.

"I need you to teach me," I continued. "Not everything, I know you won't do that. But basics. How to protect myself. How to read people in this world. How to understand what's really happening instead of just the version everyone shows me."

Dad studied me for a long moment. I could see him weighing options, calculating risks, doing whatever mental math he did when making decisions. Finally he nodded once, sharp and decisive.

"Nico will work with you. He's better at the details than I am anyway." He moved toward the door. "And Thalia? Don't trust anyone in this house. Not Rosa, not Marco, not even Dante. Someone here helped carry out your husband's murder. Until we know who, everyone's a suspect."

He left before I could respond. My brothers came back in immediately after, probably because they'd been standing right outside the door eavesdropping.

"So you're really doing this?" Nico asked. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed in that way that reminded me so much of Dad it was almost creepy. "Marrying the psycho twin?"

"Dante's not psycho," Luca said. "He's just intense."

"He's killed like thirty people," Vincent added. He said it casually, like he was commenting on the weather. "Personally. With his own hands."

"Twenty-three," I corrected without thinking. Rafael had mentioned it during one of our engagement dinners, talking about his brother with this mixture of pride and concern that I hadn't fully understood at the time. Now I wondered if Rafael had been trying to warn me about something.

All three of my brothers stared at me.

"What? Rafael told me." I stood up, suddenly restless. The room felt too small with all of them in here. "Look, I don't love this plan any more than you do. But someone tried to kill me last night and they're probably going to try again. At least here I can figure out who and why."

"You can't figure it out if you're dead," Vincent pointed out.

"That's why Nico's going to help me not die."

Nico pushed off from the wall, came closer. He had Dad's eyes, calculating and sharp. "You understand what you're asking for? Once you start learning this stuff, you can't unlearn it. You can't go back to pretending you don't know how the family works."

I'd been pretending my whole life. Pretending I didn't know what Dad did for a living. Pretending my brothers had legitimate jobs. Pretending the money that paid for my art supplies and college tuition came from legal sources. I was so tired of pretending.

"I don't want to go back," I said.

Something passed between my brothers, some silent communication I couldn't read. Then Nico nodded.

"Okay. We'll start tomorrow. Basic security protocols first, then we'll see how fast you pick things up." He glanced at his watch. "For now, get ready. Salvatore wants the whole family together for dinner tonight. Both families. It's going to be awkward as hell."

That was an understatement.

They left me alone to get ready. Rosa had arranged for some of my clothes to be brought over from my father's house, so at least I didn't have to wear borrowed things anymore. I chose a simple black dress, nothing fancy. Put my hair up because I was sick of it getting in my face. Added minimal makeup because I looked like shit without it.

The girl in the mirror looked composed. Put together. Like someone who had her life under control instead of someone whose husband had died in her arms less than twenty-four hours ago.

Fake it until you make it, right?