“Have you heard of the Cirillo Family?” “Uh… the Family?” I ask, amusement filling my voice. “Like a mafia family? No, I don’t think I’ve seen that one. Is it on Netflix?” I ask, although from the look on her face, my comment has fallen a little far off the mark. “It’s not a TV programme, Stella. It’s my life.” “Y-your life?” She throws her hands out to her sides. “Callista Cirillo, long-suffering, smothered-in-cotton-wool, protected-from-the-reality-of-this-life mafia princess looking right at you.”
