Obviously I haven’t been as discreet as I thought. Then again, Sullivan has been my best friend since we were children. He knows me well. Knows my tells, and has seen me around women. I should be less surprised that he picked up on my feelings and more concerned that perhaps he wasn’t the only one.
My mind wanders back to the look Enzo had given me a few times throughout the night. Had he been paying closer attention than I thought? A small tinge of panic sends a soft wave of tingles through my body as I consider the implications of my cousin knowing, but I squash the nerves, knowing I’d do whatever necessary to keep Vincenza safe—even if that meant protecting her from my own flesh and blood.
Chapter 27
Sly
Voices carry through the foyer of la mia famigilia’s brownstone before I even shut the door behind me. An overwhelming sense of home settles itself in my soul. It doesn’t matter if I was nine when we moved to the States, this comfortable Manhattan house became our home.
The argument coming from my father’s office is muffled, but my curiosity of who is behind the closed door overshadows the delicious smell wafting from the kitchen. Which is a shame, because there’s nothing like Mamma’s cooking.
“They’ve been going at it for fifteen minutes,” she says flatly, emerging from the kitchen before I can go to Papà’s office. She shakes her head, eyes flitting to the closed door. “Lorenzo is unhappy.”
“Unhappy about what?” Shrugging off my coat, I hang it on the coat rack by the door, then slip off myshoes and into the wool pantofoles kept by the door for me.
Her lips purse. “It’s always something.” After running her hands down her apron, she pats my chest, then returns to the kitchen.
When I reach Papà’s office, I stride into the room as though I’m not interrupting whatever the hell is going on in here.
Enzo’s voice booms as he leans over my father’s desk, his back to me. “I’m tired of this, Zio Antonio. They’ve been getting away with this shit for far too long, and it’s time we do something about it.”
On the couch against the wall, my younger brother Guilio sits with his foot crossed over his opposite knee, taking in the scene with relaxed posture, which tells me Papà is relaxed too, though I cannot see his face. Guilio has a habit of mirroring our father’s emotions.
“We will do no such thing.” Papà’s voice is firm but soothing, trying to diffuse Enzo’s anger while he speaks. “There is only conflict because you’ve poked the bear.”
“There hasalwaysbeen conflict. I want their family to finally pay for their sins, like ours has over for almost two decades.”
From where I stand in the doorway, I can see Enzo’s fingers flex against the mahogany of Papà’s desk.
“What happened this time?” I interject, knowing that it must be serious if Enzo took it to my father. Last time he had come to me for medical attention for his friend, but as I scan what I can see of his body, he holds no injuries that need to be attended to.
Then slowly, Enzo turns toward me, his face full of a sneer…and physical pain.
His left eye is swollen shut, his upper lip is split, and the majority of his face is an angry red with bruises that are settling beneath his skin.
“Oh, hello cousin,” he greets, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You came just in time. Your father and I were just discussing the best course of action for retaliation on the Paladinos.”
My eyes take inventory of every wound on Enzo, assessing how I might be able to help him heal, and while the only evident injuries are that on his face, I suspect there is bruising beneath his shirt as well.
“We willnotretaliate.” Papà slams his hand against the desk as he flies up out of his seat, standing to his full height to face Lorenzo eye to eye. “Weare notthem, Lorenzo. You are a Lucchetti, and we Lucchettischooseto take the high road. Forgetting who you are would be a disappointment to your father. It sure is one to me.”
Lorenzo’s shoulders sag for a split second before he raises them again, drawing his eyes away from mine to turn back to my father.
“Can somebody fill me in on the details of what happened?” I ask, wanting more information, but also wanting to diffuse the situation as much as possible.
From the couch, Guilio snickers. “He got his ass handed to him.”
“You shut your mouth, Guilio,” Enzo snaps.
“Gesù Cristo,” I mutter, swiping my hand down the front ofmy face in frustration. My voice raises. “What the hell happened?”
“What happened?” Enzo yells back. “I’ll tell you whatfuckinghappened. That piece of shit Paladino is too much of a pussy to handle his own wars and instead had three of his men jump me while he watched.”
“What I still don’t understand, Lorenzo, is why you were even in their vicinity,” my father counters, sitting back down behind his desk.
“Thewhyis not important, Zio.”
“Sì, it is, Enzo,” I interject. Striding over to the couch, I take a seat with my brother. “It has been clear for many years that our families strongly avoid each other. Yet, this is twice you have set foot behind enemy lines.”
