Free Mafia Secret by Angie Derek Page A

never been to a Catholic funeral before, she listened attentively at first, but found she couldn't make out what the priest was saying. So she gave up on listening and focused on observing as much as she could. Trying not to be too obvious, she glanced around the church in curiosity. The family, her family, had to be up front, but she was interested in seeing the other people attending Jiovanni's funeral.
    Finding herself the subject of several cool appraisals from those around her caught her by surprise. Wondering if she'd done some sort of faux pas, she dismissed the thought as she saw their eyes go to Marc first and then to her. They were interested in her only because she was with him. His large hand still held her arm as if afraid he'd lose her if he stopped touching her. Wasn't he expected to be in the front of the church with the family?
    Marc mumbled something under his breath, drawing her attention to his frowning face. "This wasn't a smart idea."
    "What?"
    "You're attracting too much attention."
    "They're wondering why I'm with you."
    "Let's go." He stood up.
    Those who hadn't noticed them before immediately shot looks in their direction.
    "We'd probably catch more attention leaving," Lessa whispered.
    He sat back down with a frown. "You're right. Just," he pulled at the clip fastening her hair, "hide your face."
    She released the barrette and let her hair cascade down. "Maybe you should put your jacket over my head?"
    His lips quirked for a second before resuming his frown, but he didn't respond.
    The priest called for prayer and everyone bowed their heads. The service continued in the same sober tone for almost an hour. Lessa was developing a decided crick in her neck from tilting it to keep her hair blocking her face, and she was getting very bored staring at her shoes.
    Finally, all of the mourners rose, signaling the end of the service. Marc hustled her out of the cathedral and out a side door. It was a short walk to the gravesite. Because Marc was a pallbearer with Jiovanni's sons, she'd been passed off to some burly guy named Silvio.
    Silvio was a man of few words, she discovered as they trailed behind the service. The few questions she'd asked him had been answered by either a "yes" or a "no."
    Giving up, she waited with him as the priest began the funeral rites over the burial site. Marc slipped away from the family and headed to the small grove of trees where she waited beside Silvio. Her escort nodded at Marc as he drew near before walking off to where the Tazio cars were lined up on the drive.
    As Lessa watched the casket being lowered into the ground, it hit her much more forcefully than in the church that her father—a man she'd never had the chance to know—was gone forever. She automatically pictured Peter and struggled with the idea of replacing his memory with Jiovanni's image. Her eyes started to burn and she took a deep breath, trying to stop the swelling of grief. It was easier being an observer than a participant. Lessa felt a sudden pang of regret that she hadn't asked to see him. Her father was about to be buried, and she had never even looked upon his face.
    Lucia sobbed hysterically as she clutched Jio. Lessa focused her energy on the widow who had just lost her husband. She seemed to have loved Jiovanni very much. It had to be difficult for her to have proof of her husband's indiscretions right in front of her.
    "Ready to go?" Marc asked, interrupting her thoughts.
    She pulled herself away from the drama around the gravesite. "Can I ask you a question?"
    "What?" His eyes narrowed as he focused on her.
    "I understand the family doesn't want me to intrude on their grief, but you seem to be taking it to the extreme. Why can't I pay my own respects?"
    "It doesn't have to do with the family's grief." He glanced over his shoulder at the scene she was watching. "Look at Clarissa."
    "Okay." She focused on her half-sister who kept her gaze on the ground and her hands clenched behind her back.
    "Do