Chapter Thirty-seven

‘My mother was Carmelo Zanetti’s daughter and my father was the son of another crime family.’

It took Elena thirty seconds to work out what he was telling her and if she was aghast, it was not for the reasons he had expected. ‘My word, that old man who died this week was your grandfather and yet you didn’t trust me enough to tell me that. No wonder you were upset last night!’

‘Per amor di Dio! I wasn’t upset!’ Andrea launched at her in an immediate denial. ‘He was an evil man and I didn’t know him—we met only once when he was already dying.’

Elena saw that being upset fell into the same category as being drunk and in shock in Andrea’s uncompromisingly tough expectations of himself. If he said it wasn’t happening, he could avoid having to acknowledge that he had emotions. She could only imagine how disturbing he must have found that meeting with his grandfather. She would have put her arms round him if she hadn’t known that such obvious sympathy would infuriate him.

‘You may have despi