THE LITTLE GIRL SCREAMED “DON’T MARRY HER!” AT THE MAFIA BOSS’S WEDDING—AND HER ONE PHOTOGRAPH EXPOSED A DEADLY LIE

her apron as though even unconscious she did not feel entitled to relax.

Sophia was not in bed.

She sat on the window seat, knees pulled under a borrowed nightgown, gray bear against her chin, staring into the garden like a sentry.

Lorenzo sat at the far end, far enough not to frighten her.

“Can’t sleep, piccola?”

She shook her head.

“Sometimes I can’t either,continue reading …