Chapter 32: Eyes Closed

The study fireplace had not been lit since winter, and Raffaele laid the fire himself.

Gemma stood at the hearth with the contract in her hand.

It was four pages long, on thick cream paper.

On the last page was her signature, written at eighteen with her heel still sore from his shoe.

"Three years and out," she read aloud. "And then I put you back where your father found you."

"I wrote that," said Raffaele.

"You did."

"I was a fool."

"Yes."

"I'll be one again, probably."

"I'll tell you when," said Gemma.

She struck the match and touched it to the corner.

The paper curled, and the flame ran up the cream edge and took the signatures one by one.

It took his name last.

Raffaele watched it burn without a word.

"No end date," he said at last.

"No end date."

"Say it plainly, Gemmina."

"You're stuck with me," said Gemma. "For the rest of your life, and I'm not leaving, and I'll be the one who decides if you do."

He laughed, low in his chest, and pulled her back against him.

That afternoon the Sandrelli table met in the dining room.

The new chandelier lamp was hung straight now, and the Don's chair stood at the head.

The scarred captain placed the family book in front of her.

It was a big black ledger, with the names of every Don since the dock was built.

The last page held Vittorio's signature, and a line had been drawn through it in heavy ink.

Beneath the line, one space was empty.

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