Submitting to My Best Friend's Dad by Scarlett Rossi
Chapter 161 -

Весса.

We dressed in funereal black, standing at the head of a receiving line while family came to pay their respects at a wake at the compound. There would be another wake at the Cathedral, a full Catholic Mass, and then a procession to the

mausoleum where the late Don Valentino would be buried.

People had been bringing food for days. People of all walks of life who knew or felt indebted to or were associates with Don Valentino. I'd heard the kitchen staff say we had more food than we knew what to do with. James had told them if we had too much, to arrange with a local parish to distribute it to the poor.

I stood at James's side. I wasn't his wife, but I was the mother of his child, and he'd decided my place at the funeral was right beside him. I did get a few curious looks, but I was holding Dahlia and James was holding Alessandro, and we looked every bit the family we were. So what if it wasn't conventional?

Layla was standing quietly off to one side, also wearing black. She was there just in case we needed her. Giana had her lined up respectfully where a servant ought to be. I decided I needed to have words with Giana at some point. Especially considering the older housekeeper had not allowed Layla to call me when Don Valentino took Alessandro out.

Alessandro could have been killed. The very thought had woken me up at night for two days. James had stayed with me in my room with both the babies settled in the Pack 'n Play next to the bed. There was no way I was letting them out of my sight until the whole Ronaldo situation was resolved.

James spoke mostly Italian to the people offering their condolences. Some gave him a kiss on either cheek. A few even did the same to me. But most seemed to have spread the news that I was an American and just gave my hands a squeeze or a press.

"I can't believe your uncle was so beloved," I whispered to James, staring at the long line that led to us. It didn't seem to be getting any shorter.

"Expecting something out of 'The Godfather'?" James teased. "People are coming to pay their respects. Being a Don in the mafia isn't just about shady, backdoor deals. You're responsible for your community. My uncle did a lot of good things." I blushed, embarrassed. "I'm sorry for being so judgmental before."

James shrugged. "If you only know what you see in the movies..."

"So..." I glanced around, and James signaled Tony, who came over and made excuses so James and I could take a break and talk alone for a moment. "So... when I asked you to kill Ronaldo," I said, lowering my voice, "was that... disrespectful?"

James's jaw worked, and his eyes flashed with anger. "No, that was exactly what I'd expect a good mother to ask when her child was put in that kind of danger. And I fully intend to follow through on that request."

"Oh. Okay, good." I felt relieved I hadn't put my foot in it. If I'd known where he was, I might have gone to take care of Ronaldo myself. Rip out his throat with my teeth. But I didn't know where he was, and the babies needed me alive. New Zealand had taught me about independence but also caution. I was still navigating this new world, not to mention this relationship, with James. I needed to take things slow and think things through.

James tilted my chin up and gave me a kiss. "Never be afraid of telling me or asking me for anything, Becca. The worst I can say is 'no.' I prefer honest communication between us."

"I'd like that, too," I said warily. "But... there's still a lot we need to work through, James. And a lot you did keep from me. I don't want to be that broken up again."

"We're never going to be broken up again," James replied. "I'm going to earn your trust back, Becca, I am. And I'm sorry I ever lost it."

I nodded and squeezed his hand. I wanted more than anything to be able to trust him. But not all of my concerns even had anything to do with James. Well, not directly, anyway. James was definitely neck deep in the mafia now, and community leaders or not, I still didn't want Alessandro involved. Dahlia and Alessandro deserved normal lives. Or at least as normal as I could make them. I had no idea how I was going to navigate us out of this mafia world-and with any luck, take James with us.

All of that swirled in my brain, even while we were mourning the passing of James's uncle.

"You're stuck in one of your thought spirals again," James murmured.

I blinked, and realized he'd been holding out a sandwich for me to eat. "Oh... God... you're right. Yes. Sorry."

"You need to eat something, love," James said with a kind smile. "And have a little faith that the rest will take care of itself."

I frowned slightly but took the sandwich and began munching. I certainly didn't want to be "handled." Sometimes when James spoke, I thought he was doing just that.

But this was not the time or the place for that conversation.

Once I'd finished my sandwich and had a glass of wine, James took my hand, and we went back to the receiving line, which had multiplied to twice its size since we'd been gone. "We're going to be here all day!" I gasped.

"That's why we stopped to eat," James responded, patting my arm.

I fixed a serene smile on my face and kept accepting condolences. Many in the line tried out a little of their English on me, I'm sure out of deference to the fact I didn't understand Italian. But most just gave me the Italian version of what they intended to tell me. I asked James a few times what was said, but as the sentiments were always the same, I'd just started smiling and nodding.

Layla took the children for a nap as morning waned into afternoon. James called Giana over to have a chair brought for me so I wasn't standing endlessly in my heels.

As I sat down, I watched the Italian procession move past us and to the casket. I was surprised that almost every single one of the wake goers kissed Don Valentino's face on both cheeks, even though he was dead.

"It's an Italian tradition," James provided softly. "We'll probably do the same more than once. I didn't want you to think it was weird, though, so I thought I'd let you see how it's done."

"No, it's not weird. It's actually kind of... nice," I said. "I think it's nice to show the children that death isn't scary and all the love Italians give.... American funerals can be pretty cold by comparison."

James looked stricken for a moment. "How was Tally's funeral?"

"It was your funeral, too," I reminded him, trying not to sound testy over the fact he'd let me think he was dead for so long. I looked up at him and relented. "It was beautiful. Really and truly beautiful. I think you would have been pleased." "Good," James whispered. "That's good."

By sunset, the line finally started to trickle down to something more manageable. Layla had returned with the children during the day but was now settling them down back in the nursery.

I could tell James was dead on his feet, but that didn't stop him from greeting everyone who was still coming in. Then, suddenly, his face changed and melted from serious Don apparent into a real, genuine smile.

"Sofia!" he said, grasping the hands of one of the last people in line.

"Sofia" was actually a pretty apt name. She looked very much like a certain famous Italian actress-buxom, beautiful, with cat eyes and tempting lips. She captured the attention of every man in the room including, it seemed, James. "Ciao, James, come stai?" Sofia said, kissing James on both cheeks.

"I'm well, except for this dark business," James replied, beaming at her.

"Ah. Yes, this is a terrible, terrible tragedy," Sofia agreed, switching to English.

"It is. But how have you been? I haven't seen you in forever," James went on.

Sofia was more James's age and made him smile in a way I didn't think I ever had. Though I tried to tamp down on it, the little green monster in me started rattling his cage.

"Oh, I have been very well," Sofia said, her laugh like a trill of birdsong. "I know the old man did not like me much, but I thought I would come pay my respects just the same. And pay my respects to the new Don Valentino."

James winced. "I'm glad to hear you say that, Sofia. I would have thought, with all the bad blood between you and my uncle, you would have written me off entirely."

Sofia shook her head. "Never. We became such good friends when I went to the States after what Eugenio did. I was afraid you would not want to see me because you have renewed your family ties."

"I'd always want to see you, Sofia. And what Eugenio did had nothing to do with you," James reassured her.

There were about ten people left in line, and some had begun tapping their feet. I was about to start tapping along with them, though not because I was worried about the line backing up. I was worried about this new woman that had suddenly popped up or popped back into James's life.

I tugged on James's sleeve. "James, I think there are others waiting in line to give their condolences."

James blinked and looked past Sofia, as though seeing a world outside her for the first time. "Yes, you're right. I'm afraid we'll have to catch up later, Sofia. Where are you staying in town?"

"I actually don't have a room reserved yet. I booked the first flight I could get here when I heard about your uncle," Sofia said.

I knew what was coming next, but it still felt like a stab in the back.

"You must stay here, then. Giana! Please replace Mrs. Esposito a room in the mansion. We'll talk later, Sofia. It's just so good to see you," James gushed.

Or at least I interpreted it as gushing. I tried not to feel sour and forced a smile on my face. "It will be so nice talking to you, yes."

Sofia looked at me, then at James, and burst out laughing. "James, idiota! You never introduced me to your lovely companion!"

'Yeah, James, you never introduced me,' my mind echoed, my lips pursing in displeasure a moment before I regained my composure. "I'm Becca. I'm sure we'll have plenty of time to get acquainted later," I said sweetly. James cleared his throat self-consciously and used the distraction of the next person in line to escape my wrath and Sofia's teasing.

As Giana escorted Sofia away, barking orders in Italian to nearby servants, I wondered about her. I wondered about her and James.

Who was this woman who could so enthrall him that he didn't even remember I existed?