I had posted two chapters today--make sure you saw chapter 20 :)
21.
"Are you sure I can't convince you to stay with me?" Lucian looked at me pointedly from the corner of his eye.
The closer we approached my house, the more his question was beginning to sound tempting.
He'd been repeating it for over half-an-hour since we got off the plane. At first, I had scoffed, refusing to entertain the possibility of staying with Lucian at his family's house. The less I saw of Gabriele, the better. The man was an asshole. An even bigger one than my own father.
I had no intention of putting myself through unnecessary hell by staying there.
And yet, the more he began asking it, the more I started thinking that maybe it wasn't such a bad idea. I didn't know if I wanted to face Nick and my parents. It was going to be a headache and I had to pretend I actually felt sympathy for what happened to Marcello.
"I'm sure you could convince me," I mumbled sourly as I hunched in the passenger seat of his car. Outside was a meager fifteen degrees. My thin coat hardly protected me from the frigid air. "Your heated leather seats are a nice touch, but you need something a bit more to sway me."
His hand then landed on my inner thigh and I flinched. I stared wide-eyed out the window after I realized what I'd done.
Oh...shit.
He wasn't going to take that lightly.
Lucian guffawed and tightened his hold on my leg. "I hope you flinched because my hands were cold, Afton."
"Freezing," I clarified through my teeth.
Silence stretched and anyone could tell Lucian was dwelling in his dark contemplations.
As soon as the plane had touched down in New Jersey, it had been fascinating to watch how fast Lucian had tensed and replaced his underboss persona. Dressed in his usual dark pants and dignified sports coat, Lucian was back to his Romano underboss role.
It was a good thing I had been able to see underneath the mask in Florida; otherwise, his impassiveness would have unnerved me.
"You said you weren't angry over what happened last night," Lucian murmured darkly.
I took his hand on my thigh and curled my fingers around the cold appendage. It really was cold. Lucian always seemed to have poor circulation, even when we had been in Florida. "It was a knee-jerk reaction, Lucian. I'm sorry."
I held his hand as we continued down the road.
While I claimed I wasn't upset over last night, my mentality was still a bit leery about our physical relationship. It would pass, I knew it would. Lucian had made me feel good, but it had come at the price of a few frayed threads of trust.
Looking out the window, I noticed that New Jersey had received more snow since we left. It reminded me explicitly of California and how it would be unaffected by the winter season.
I wouldn't go back there, I couldn't. I wanted to stay here for my family, for Tony and Emily, and most importantly, for Lucian. There was something heavy in the air here and I knew I would need to be here to help bring some semblance of peace.
Suddenly, I stiffened, squinting my eyes in disbelief.
"What the... fuck?" I abandoned my clutch on Lucian's hand in order to lean forward in my seat. Coming in the opposite direction was a black Mercedes, a familiar fucking Mercedes. "That's my car!"
I had left my car at Tony's. I had assumed I would have had to pick it up from his house... but apparently that wasn't the case.
Lucian pulled over on the curb outside my house. He inclined in his seat, laying an arm across base of his window as he watched the Mercedes spin into my driveway. At the speed it was going, I highly doubted it would stop in time from going through the garage.
Surprisingly enough, or luckily enough, my car had good enough brakes to stop inches from the door.
When the two men exited the car, a sudden weight dropped in my stomach and I leaned against my seat. They were two of my cousins and also the nephews to Marcello Conti. The cousins from the Conti side of my family were unbearable, far worse than the cousins from my mother's side.
Then again, hers was just as bad.
I reluctantly realized that something much bigger was going on here. My cousins lived in Italy, for fuck's sake. If their appearance wasn't proof enough of underlying conflicts, it was Lucian's darkening expression as he watched the two Italians exit my car.
"You should probably get going, Lucian."
He had attended my graduation party a few months ago, and it had been packed with my family from both sides. He had seemed confident enough there, then again, he hadn't mingled very long and he hadn't been responsible for just beating the shit out of my father.
I wasn't very knowledgeable on his past ties with my family, and back then, I hadn't known much about the mafia. For all I knew, he could have been subjected to hostile stares at the graduation party and I had never noticed. I'd been far too busy being jealous over his fascination with my cousin.
"I'm not going to run," Lucian replied chillingly, his eyes still zeroed in on the two men. "I have every right to be sitting here with you."
Hoping to avoid any sort of quarrel, I leaned close and kissed his cheek. "I had a good time with you," I said honestly, touching his chin to draw his attention back on me. "Thank you." I hesitated. "And for... saving my father."
For now.
Somehow, I had a feeling Lucian only created more trouble for everyone involved for keeping Marcello alive. There was a feeling of unease I couldn't shake.
It was horrible to think like that about my father, but Marcello wasn't one to stay off the horse for long.
Lucian seemed hesitant as he studied me. "There is something that I need to tell you, Afton," he said. "We had other issues we had to deal with in Florida. And I thought I could wait to tell you this when we got back to New Jersey, but with your family here, I think... this is something I need to tell you now. Especially after your father's attack, I need to come clean to you."
Oh... god.
Lucian never stumbled over his words. For the most part, he was always articulate and clear with his sentence structure, but right now, he was sloppy, hurried as he tried to get his words out.
"I don't want to hear it," I blurted out. "How much more can you possibly keep from me, Lucian?"
"I only agreed this morning not to keep you in the dark. I have never lied to you," Lucian argued, his eyebrows coming together with frustration. "This was something that was buried in the past, it had nothing to do with us. If it wasn't for your fucking father, we wouldn't even need to be having this conversation."
Before he could continue, someone pounded on my window.
I turned to look at Pietro, or 'Pitts' as we liked to call him because of his bad body odor as a teenager. He was the middle son of his four brothers, coming in around twenty-five, a year older than Lucian. He looked remarkably like Marcello and my uncle with his swooped-like black hair and dark eyes that looked cruel, but sparkled with mischief.
Annoyed, I rolled down my window. "Go away," I ordered briskly.
As I rolled my window back up, he suddenly leaned on it heavily, stopping the window from completely going up.
"Santino," he purred in greeting, reaching over to ruffle my hair as if he hadn't interrupted anything. "It's been so long, buddy." His Italian accent was thick, like Lucian's, but unlike Lucian, his English was harder to understand.
"Santino," Lucian repeated dubiously, eyeing Pitts with disdain.
I flushed hotly, settled in the wrong spot between Lucian and my cousin. This wouldn't end well. I could already feel the antagonism coming off Pitts as he smiled thinly at Lucian.
I didn't see my cousins very often, as most of them were in Italy, but I did know that most of them mirrored Marcello quite similarly in personality. Pitts knew exactly who Lucian was and he was already armed with insults.
"His name," Pitts supplied, looking at Lucian with distaste. "You're fucking my little cousin and you don't even know his name."
"Middle name," I corrected hotly. Lucian was known for his temper. He wouldn't let someone walk over him like this. "It's not like we enjoy trading mundane information like middle names over dinner, Pietro. We have better things to talk about."
"You have two first names," he shot back, all-knowing. "It says so on your birth certificate." Here he looked at Lucian again, his smile twisted. "I see you've fallen pretty far, Luciano. Already, I see you've broken two customs for the mafia. Facial hair and poking boys for fun, two things that could get you killed by your own Family."
I didn't know what the fuck he was talking about. I didn't even know the mafia had customs like that. It probably wasn't that big of a deal, because Lucian was an underboss and his father let him get away with things like facial hair and... his homosexuality.
Of course, Lucian had admitted that Gabriele Romano had often taken Lucian's preference in men as a joke, a passing phase.
And who the fuck killed people because of their facial hair?
Lucian reached out an arm and curled it around my shoulders. He offered Pitts a chilling smile while his dark eyes gleamed dangerously. "Times change, Conti, people must adjust to modern times in order to succeed. Besides, there are exceptions to powerful families such as the Romanos. Pity, you will never understand that concept of total supremacy."
Pitts grinned. "Yes, I wouldn't understand that, would I? Not after my grandparents, who were heading toward total supremacy—by the way—were slaughtered like pigs by the likes of you."
A freezing sensation suddenly locked everything up across my body.
This feeling of shock and horror was a lot more frigid than the January air outside. I stared at the windshield, a statue of stone underneath Lucian's arm. Across the street, I could see two black cars sitting idle with two men leaning dangerously against them. In the back of my mind, I noticed they were Lucian's men, appearing on edge, as if their boss was in enemy's territory.
And then I realized that Lucian was on enemy's territory.
After... after...
"You didn't know that, Santino?" Pitts exclaimed in mock surprise. He reached out and rubbed my hair again. "Kids these days don't even know the person they're sleeping with. Hell, in your case, you're literally sleeping with the enemy."
I could feel Lucian's eyes on the side of my face, but I could only stare unseeingly in front of me. His arm tightened across my shoulders, but somehow, I couldn't feel it.
"That grandmother you loved so much, Santino, had her head blown to pieces by the man you're sleeping with."
And then Lucian lost his temper.
He scrambled out of the car and sprinted around toward Pietro, his face contorted in absolute rage.
I don't think I'd ever seen him that angry. He always hid his emotions so well, but he did have an abundance of them. Seeing him in Florida, I came to the realization that Lucian was a very sensitive and emotional person. It must have taken Gabriele a long time to get Lucian to cover them all with an impassive façade.
It was hard. Grasping all this.
Even harder watching as Lucian's elbow connected with Pietro's face, sending my cousin to the ground.
After the hit, all hell broke loose.
Three members of my family came charging out of the house toward Lucian, their hands itching toward the inside of their jackets. To make the situation even more unbelievable, Lucian's men raced from their side of the street, mirroring my family by reaching for their guns.
It was fucking crazy and I still hadn't even grasped the fact that my grandparents were murdered by Lucian. My whole fucking family turned out to be mobsters. And I had grown up oblivious, like a fucking... clueless person...
What did they call those?
Oh yeah.
Dumbasses.
"No!' Lucian yelled at his men, throwing his arm toward them in a gesture that would send them running back the other way. "Get back."
Unarguably, a blood bath would have resulted if it hadn't been for Lucian's instruction.
Forcing myself to move, I grabbed my bag from the backseat and stepped out of the car. Shouldering the messenger bag, I slowly walked in front of Lucian, intentionally blocking him from my family.
They were all cousins of mine and the brothers of Pietro—who was now holding his bloody nose. Seeing them so furious spurred my disoriented mind, my disbelief. How had I not seen this before? How could I have been so ignorant to the ongoings of my own family?
They were Italians. Grouping them automatically with the mafia somehow seemed stereotypical.
It was stereotypical!
But the Conti's had to have been in the mafia. Why else would Lucian—the fucking bastard—slaughter my grandparents? Why would Detective Paul Delve mention a past feud between the Contis and the Romanos that night on New Year's Eve?
At the time, it had confused me. What feud had he been talking about? But in the back of my mind, I had a subconscious inkling that I knew what it was about, but I hadn't wanted to face it.
Now I was unable to turn away from it.
"Stand back, Afton," one of my younger cousins demanded with a twisted expression.
"I'm not going anywhere," I rebutted, my emotions flat-line. "Get back in the house. Pietro needs help with his nose." When they remained motionless, I took a step closer to them, my patience finally cracking. "What the hell do you think you can accomplish by shooting him? Nothing. I'm saving your own asses. Get back inside."
They appeared reluctant to listen to me. My youngest cousin made the first move and collected Pietro off the ground, and assisted him back to the house.
The older two made sure to stay as long as they could. They stared Lucian down, pretending like they could do something. But they couldn't. Lucian had men on the other side of the street, their fingers trigger-happy. One move from my cousins would prompt them into moving offensively.
Eventually, they followed their brothers into the house. As soon as the door shut behind them, I turned back around to look at Lucian, his dark eyes already on mine.
"This was a conversation we wouldn't have needed to have if it wasn't for my father?" I asked in frenzied disbelief, repeating the words he had said before Pitts had interrupted. "Are you...serious? You don't think I needed to know that you killed my grandparents?"
He crossed his arms over his chest, a defensive gesture. "Your confidence in me is touching, Afton Santino." His upper lip curled as he mocked my middle name. "I didn't kill your grandparents," he snarled. "I didn't have anything to do with it. I just turned nineteen, barely an underboss for a year. I wouldn't have been assigned something like that yet."
I narrowed my eyes, peeling past his defenses and looking for any sign of deceit. "He seemed pretty insistent that you were the one to pull the trigger," I said hollowly.
"I didn't," Lucian insisted, his tone softening to a mere whisper. "But my family is to blame for their deaths. And for that—for them—I am truly sorry for your loss." He was rigid as he stood across from me, mindful of the prying eyes from his men and the men inside my house.
My grandmother had been truly innocent. She had to be.
My mouth pressed together as I tried to stop the swell of emotion, of despair. Lucian took a quick step toward me, his hand outstretched, but I turned, avoiding his touch. "Why didn't you tell me earlier? Was... is my family really involved in the mafia?"
"I didn't tell you because you never knew. Your parents—your family—never told you about it. You were peacefully ignorant to the deeds of the Conti Family. I didn't think it was right to tell you about your grandparents when you idolized them so much."
Narrowing my gaze, I watched him distrustfully. "My grandparents? My grandmother was innocent and your father fucking eliminated her."
Lucian shook his head, appearing exhausted as he rejected my claim. "She wasn't innocent either, Afton. Come back to the house with me. I can explain everything—"
"Goodbye, Lucian."
Turning my back on him, I began to make my way up to the house. It had only been that morning since our last argument. Was there something wrong with us? Or was it constantly outside influences that created these situations? As soon as Lucian started using his phone in Florida, there was conflict between us. Everything before then had been entirely smooth sailing, untroubled by anything from the outside.
It was constant drama and I hated drama.
"Afton," Lucian called out behind me. "Remember that vineyard?" His voice was scratchy.
Whirling around, I stared at Lucian in surprise.
The vineyard.
Of course I remembered what he was talking about.
Even if I had been in my wine stupor, I remembered hearing about his dream to live on a vineyard. We had mentioned something about marriage, something I couldn't quite remember, but I remembered his dream of being constantly surrounded by his passion; wine.
"Anytime," he murmured quietly. "If it ever gets too much, you say the word." With a profound look, Lucian turned and got back into his car.
The implications of that statement were endless and I really wasn't in the right mind to consider them. I watched as he drove off, one of the two cars following him and the other car settling someplace more inconspicuous.
Apparently, my security detail was still on the clock. I highly doubted I would be attacked here, but considering the revelations today, there was always a chance for anything. Hell, the Gallo Family could come gunning me down to finish the job. Though, their blood feud with the Romanos was directed specifically toward Lucian and Gabriele.
I shrugged the bag closer to my shoulder and began my trek to the house.
I had a feeling that things would only get worse.
M.R.
My father was worse for wear.
I sat next to my father and assessed his wounds. There was a cane next to him on the sofa, probably not doing much for his damaged legs. He probably needed crutches for a while, but he was too stubborn to use them. His face was black and blue, looking swollen and shiny. One of his eyes was swollen shut, making my stomach lurch with nausea. Bloody incisions were across his arms and face, looking as if they would need a few weeks to heal completely.
Lucian's men did a number on him, but he was alive, and that was something that I had to focus on.
I sat stiffly on the coffee table across from him, mindful of Nick and my mother surrounding us. It had taken awhile to get Marcello alone. A good number of my extended family was visiting and I had to endure their skeptical stares before they finally gave me time with my father.
And even when it was just my immediate family here, I never felt as out of place.
I felt unwelcomed, I felt as if I were an outsider.
"You're not going to continue seeing him, are you Afton?" Kara inquired persistently. It was her second time asking me. "I don't want to see you hurt. I can't watch you being used."
I ignored her again and focused on my father.
"Why were you working with a detective against the Romano Family?" I had the sudden urge to rub my forehead. A part of me wanted to feel pity for Marcello, but the stronger part of me was just annoyed and confused. "Weren't things just fine the way they were?"
His dark eyes, or in this particular case, his only functioning eye, stared at me. "Things are never 'fine' when they are in power."
I turned to look at Nick, catching my brother's eyes. I hadn't had the chance to talk with him yet. I kind of felt isolated from everything. Things were being kept from me on every end. I didn't know who to trust, who I could go to for conformation. Lucian was an option, but I needed to hear things from the Conti side before I could consider the truthfulness of his words.
Turning back to my father, I set my hands on my knees. "Then it's true. Grandpa and Grandma Conti were part of the mafia."
Marcello was stiff when he turned his neck marginally to his wife. Kara gave him an encouraging nod before he turned back toward me. A heavy hand settled on my knee, all swollen and deformed.
"Your grandfather was a Don, yes. He started in Sicily before relocating here to New Jersey. Gabriele Romano was a young Don at the time and he looked up to Benny. They were inseparable business partners. The Romanos stayed out of the Conti's business and vice versa. Together, they governed New Jersey, but it was unquestionable that Benny Conti had more collateral, more power."
Somehow, hearing my father admit that Benny was a Don made me angrier.
All this history, all this fucking baggage, and I had never caught wind of any of it.
All those times I had visited my grandparents, all the times my grandfather pulled me aside and gave me gifts, it had all been a fucking lie. And my grandmother. She had known the whole time, but it had never seemed to affect her interactions with me.
I stewed in silence for a moment longer. "And you?" I pressed. "Were you his underboss?"
Benny had six children, three boys and three girls. Four of the six children still lived in Italy, while Marcello had stayed with his father and started a life here in New Jersey.
Marcello's mood darkened considerably at the question. "No, I had a different position in the Family. Benny had no underboss, no will and testimony. The majority of his belongings and savings were split amongst his children."
I wanted to know if Norah, my grandmother, was a part of the mafia or if she was like Contessa Romano. Lucian seemed to think she was directly involved, but I couldn't and wouldn't see it. She had been an innocent in all this.
And yet, a part of me wanted to believe Lucian.
The only way to get the truth out of my father was to ask the right question. I had a feeling Marcello was preying on my sympathy, for he kept wincing and sighing as he shifted on the couch. He and my mother wanted me away from Lucian, I could see it and feel it.
My parents were trying to turn me against him.
But why? What was the purpose of it? They were my family; surely, they wanted to see me happy. And Lucian vowed he had nothing to do with killing Benny and Norah personally. Couldn't they see that?
"Norah was directly involved with the mafia. Wouldn't she have been considered Benny's underboss?" I asked neutrally, watching Marcello closely. And then I saw his dopey-lidded eye widen only a small fraction and a spark of intense contemplation entered his eye.
"Norah had nothing to do with the mafia."
It was all lies. I didn't know who to fucking trust.
Was Lucian telling the truth? Or was my father? Marcello had looked surprised at the question. Was that indication that he was taken aback at my awareness of Norah or was it because he had been truly befuddled at the question? But... why did it matter?
I had loved my grandmother, there was no denying that. Her loss had been difficult, but I had been fourteen at the time. Her passing had gradually begun to get easier.
If she had worked directly with the mafia, what did it matter? It ruined my perception of her, saddened me even, but it didn't change anything. She was still dead. She had still been a good companion throughout the years. And it didn't change the fact that Lucian still hadn't pulled the trigger himself.
I was angry at Lucian for keeping this from me, but I was even angrier at my parents.
I was angrier at myself for not seeing it.
"What did Benny do then? Why was he killed?"
Marcello scoffed, his shoulders tensing. "It's simple enough. Gabriele grew too power hungry. He couldn't stand coming in second. Benny refused to give up more of his territories and the Romano Family eliminated him. And they used Luciano to do it."
Something burned hotly in my chest at the statement. I clenched my fists at my side, unwilling to react too outwardly. "Lucian," I repeated dully. "Lucian killed my grandparents?"
"Benny's trust in Gabriele Romano was a double-edged sword. He was always cautious around his business partner." Marcello quieted for a moment, shifting slowly on the couch. "Luciano, on the other hand, was very young at the time. Benny dropped his guard around the Romano underboss, he underestimated Luciano, and he was killed because of it. Norah was killed alongside him by proxy."
Kara came up next to her husband and rubbed his shoulder soothingly. Seeing them together completely set me off. "You're lying," I insisted fiercely, standing up. "You're turning me against him."
"Afton." It was Nick this time that interrupted. "We're not lying to you." He shook his head. "Lucian has a certain way of executing people that's distinctive by the single bullet—"
"Stop," I cut him off fiercely, feeling sick. "Just stop."
"The way Benny and Norah were killed was a prime example of how Luciano executes people." Marcello stared at me with a deep frown. "Luciano is much like his father and he's constantly trying to prove himself. He'll do anything to impress Gabriele."
That's not right.
Luciano butted heads with his father from time to time.
"It just doesn't add up." I wanted to see a way out of this. "If Benny was really killed by the Romanos why did we stay here? Why are you associates for the Romano Family? Why is Nick working for them? Why the fuck would you tell me to respect Lucian when he came over for dinner?"
"Ever heard of a kicked puppy?" Nick asked, taking the words from Marcello's mouth. "After Benny's untimely death, the Conti Family was powerless. We lost everything. Gabriele Romano continued to act as if he had nothing to do with Benny's death and supported us financially for a time."
"We felt cornered," Kara continued. "We felt that if we outwardly showed our knowledge of Gabriele's actions, he would eliminate the rest of the family. We had to act compliant. Even if we wanted to take revenge, we couldn't. After Benny died, he took a lot of men and resources with him. He hadn't planned accordingly in the case of his death."
Nick sighed from his position behind me.
"Gabriele never trusted father enough to enlist him to work for the Romano Family. So, dad and mom eventually got their license to practice law and I was recruited in the mafia."
It still didn't connect. "But why?"
Why would Nick willingly work for his grandfather's murderer?
My brother sat down on the coffee table, his face appearing quite old. "Same reason as you, Afton." He nodded toward Marcello and Kara. "I was never told about the circumstances surrounding Benny's death. Dad thought it was best if we grew up oblivious so we wouldn't start up something and become targets of the Romanos. We're all worried about you. Luciano..." He trailed off, looking downcast.
I remembered one conversation in particular when Lucian was over at our house. It was a few days before I left for California and Lucian had talked about the mafia. "Lucian told me that Benny asked Gabriele to help him become a legal citizen of America. And as repayment for that favor, Nick began working for the Romano Family."
"Half lies," Marcello hissed. "He was clearly covering up what truly happened. Nick agreed to work for the Romano Family, but it wasn't so much about returning a favor, it was about control on the Romano side of things."
"Did Gabriele help Benny become a legal citizen?" I asked through clenched teeth. I needed to know how many lies Lucian told me.
Marcello seemed annoyed. "Yes, Afton. But what does this have to do with our current conversation?"
My fists unclenched and I sank back down to the coffee table. It had nothing to do with the conversation, but it did give me a small flicker of hope that Lucian hadn't lied to me constantly throughout our relationship. But Marcello had admitted that Lucian had told the truth, which shocked me. I would have thought he would have fabricated anything to turn me against Lucian.
Could this be a sign that my family was being honest right now?
Having to take a step back to analyze everyone's words was unacceptable. I shouldn't have to wonder if my family was deceiving me. I shouldn't have to wonder if my lover was deceiving me. But one of them was. Either Lucian had killed my grandparents, or he hadn't. Still, it begged the question as to why Lucian would even want to strike up a relationship with me in the first place, especially if I was part of a family that was past enemies with the Romanos.
Did he get a thrill out of the Romeo and Juliet aspect of what our relationship came down to?
It was fucked up, that's all I knew.
"We wanted you to be respectful of Luciano Romano when he came over because we didn't want you as a target. You and Niccolo," Kara said forlornly. "The most important thing to us was that our children wouldn't become victims for their grudge against the Romano Family. Gabriele may have considered it a threat—"
"But that doesn't really justify your actions, now does it?" I asked Marcello cruelly. "You were working with a fucking cop behind their back. What kind of message does that send? What's saying we're safe now?"
"He knows we're powerless," Marcello explained calmly.
"He knows you're the father of his son's current lover," I corrected viciously. "Lucian protected you because you were my father, just as you knew he would. So, you took the chance of trying to sneak something past him, reassured by the fact that I would be a buffer for your protection."
"Afton," Kara scolded. "It wasn't like that at all. Your father is trying to protect you."
Marcello placed a hand on her knee, gently silencing her. "I wasn't working with Paul Delve continuously. He approached me after you were shot." The man exhaled noisily, curling his swollen hands into loose fits. His one eye was a wild storm of emotion. "I had no qualms about helping him after I saw what kind of target Romano painted on your back. I only offered my services as a lawyer to bring down the Romanos. Gabriele and Luciano have both skillfully avoided sentencing for their crimes. I was hoping to remedy that."
I remembered his raw concern when I woke up in the hospital. Tragedy could do weird things to someone's mind. Lucian had even gone off the deep end by hunting down one of the Gallo brothers for revenge. Still... it was hard to consider Marcello as the protective type.
"This has nothing to do with your pride?" I asked softly.
"This has everything to do with you and your plunge into the Romano Family. Niccolo, I could deal with as an enforcer, a mere solider. But I cannot stand by and watch as they take my youngest son and brainwash him against his family." Marcello tried to move closer to me, but he ended up leaning more heavily against the couch, strain obvious on his expression. "Gabriele is a conniving bastard who will do anything to get power. Besides putting a target on you, I have a feeling he and Lucian are using you."
"Lucian isn't," I argued violently.
"Will you please stop fawning over him?!"
I turned to stare at Nick in disbelief. My brother rotated around on the table to look angrily at me.
"Luciano is a man who kills for money, for vengeance. He's the man that shot your grandparents between the eyes. He's the man who sent goonies after your father and beat the shit out of him. He will do anything to stay on top, and that includes manipulating and using you before discarding you."
At his roused and obvious anger, my hands began to shake. I tried to curl them to hide their tremor. "You just don't understand. He's not like that."
"You love him," my mother exclaimed, her voice catching in shock. "It's only been a few months and you're already choosing him over your family, Afton?"
Her devastated tone made me look up. I was subjected to stares raging from disbelief, disgust, and confusion. Swallowing past my own confusion and agitation, I lifted my chin and looked at my mother.
"You're wrong. I'm not choosing him over anyone." I then nodded at my father. "You said he's using me, manipulating me. But if the Conti's are as powerless as you claim we are, then he has nothing he could possibly want from me."
Marcello grunted, his expression as impressed as it was able to get in its current state.
"Very good," he praised. "You're right, the Conti legacy doesn't have power, but Gabriele could find something. There could be Families that were once loyal to the Conti name who decide to pledge an alliance with Gabriele if they see you're close to the Romanos."
It was a plausible thought, but I still couldn't fathom it.
"Gabriele hates me," I insisted calmly. "He'd do anything to chase me out of Lucian's life. Hardly a mindset of a man who wants to use me." Looking toward Nick, I held his gaze, telling him I wasn't ashamed of what I felt. "I'm not supporting Lucian for what he's done, but I also think that you shouldn't make any more attempts at challenging the Romano Family."
Kara looked ready to intervene, but Marcello leaned his shoulder into her.
"If that's what you want," Marcello said softly. "Your mother and I believe our children should experience their mistakes. We can only push them in the right direction. We did our best to raise you well, Afton, and you have grown to be a very capable, mature young man."
I was surprised at his words.
All this time growing up, I had been overwhelmed at his high expectations and his pushes that felt like shoves. He knew what direction may be better for me, but in the end, I had needed to figure out things for myself.
I still did.
"However, you're still young," Marcello continued. "And you have much to experience." He looked down, reaching for me and finally curling his hand around my sweaty fist. "I will stand aside for now. I only hope... I pray to God that your decision to remain with the Romano boy doesn't cost you your life."
Kara stared at her husband before looking at me. She was silent for a few moments, her expressions raging from sorrow to longing. "We'll always be here for you."
"Family," Nick agreed, his temper finally defused. "Family will always stand with you, buddy. Even if you do make choices we can't agree on."
They were being surprisingly understanding.
I still didn't know where I stood in all of this. I still had too much to uncover.
"Thank you," I found myself saying, needing time to think alone. "And for..." I trailed off, looking at my father. "I'm sorry for accusing you of ill intentions."
And after exchanging a few more tense words with my parents and Nick, I found myself sitting on my bed, alone in my room. In my palm, I stared at my phone, seeing it ring for the third time since Lucian dropped me off. The number was listed under 'unavailable', but I knew it was him.
I pressed my lips together as I dropped the phone on the ground. Nudging it underneath my bed, I decided to be selfish. I needed time to think this over. I wasn't blaming Lucian. I wasn't blaming anyone. I just needed...time.
Burying my face in my hands, I sat hunched on the edge of the bed for what seemed like hours.