He blinked, slow and heavy. “Si, not by choice, but to protect my family.”
I bit my lower lip, doubt creeping in. “And when you placed your gun to my father’s skull? Who were you protecting then?”
“You… him, all of us.” He groaned and rubbed a palm down his tired face. “Yes, I’d been angry and used my gun as a last-ditch effort to dissuade you from escaping. Stupid to hold your father hostage, I admit, but I did everything in my power to makeyou my wife because the fallout would have been devastating, Gemma. Trust me.”
I did trust him. I’d been around Carina long enough to see how she operated. If her plan had fallen through, none of us would have walked out of that church alive. At least he wasn’t capable of killing with so little regard. “So, you wouldn’t have killed him?” I pushed, even though deep down I knew the answer.
“No, I wouldn’t have.” He smoothed his forehead along mine, a gentle gesture. “I’ve never killed because I wanted to… until Franco. I’m more than tempted to murder Franco.”
Thank God Carina stopped him. I didn’t want Enzo in more danger with these mafioso families for my sake. As for Franco, I’d leave him for God to handle. After all, you reap what you sow. “I know what you did to him, how you brought him here.”
He froze at my side, the sudden stillness radiating danger. “Are you afraid of me?”
I rubbed my cheek over the soft fabric covering his chest, needing his reassurance more than I wanted to admit. “Should I be afraid, Enzo?”
“No.” His large palm cupped me closer to his side, somehow wrapping me in more comfort despite all I just learned. “You never have to fear me. No more than I fear myself.”
I waited for him to elaborate, but he needed prompting. “What do you mean?”
“There’s a darkness in me,” he admitted, his voice rough. “I look in the mirror and see the man I want to be, a Cammarata, a man of honor. But the life I’ve lived... it’s brought out this… this ferocity.” He looked away, then back, his eyes burning. “The other night, when I saw Franco’s mark on you… I wanted,needed, to kill him.”
The intensity in his voice should have frightened me, but strangely, moved me. His form of protection was dark and twisted, something I should shudder at, but didn’t. I licked mylips in hopes my words didn’t infuriate him. “You hurt him for my sake, but vengeance is not yours to give.” A dangerous thing to say to a man like him. But I couldn’t stay silent.
He tilted his head to view me, lines forming between his brows. “You want to exact revenge yourself?”
No, not what I meant. “We all have darkness inside us, Enzo, but it’s up to us to choose the light.” A simple sentiment, but one I believed in with all my heart.
He shook his head, his wavy fringe brushing my forehead. “Not you. You have no darkness in you.”
“We all do,” I insisted, refusing to be placed on a pedestal. “Every human has good and bad tendencies. I simply trust in the light, in my salvation through God.”
A dimple indented his cheek as he shook his head, his gentle way of disagreeing with me. “You’re a good person, with or without your belief in God.”
Why did people always summed redemption down to a scale of good or bad? “Enzo, if I’m hanging from a cliff, seconds away from plunging to my death, would shoutingI’m a good personsave me?”
He blinked, gaze distant. “No, I guess not.”
“Now you see why I put my faith in God.” A faith he could have too if he just believed. He could be set free from every single pain, giving his burdens over and focus on healing, on rebuilding the man he wanted to be. “Vengeance is God’s alone. Not mine, not yours, not even Carina’s.”
He studied me as though a peculiar creature lay in his arms. To not enact payback no doubt sounded so foreign. “You really are something else, Gemma Cammarata.”
Eager to leave the horrible events behind, I shifted back to the original topic, needing to understand the broken boy beneath the hardened man. “Tell me more about the orphanage?”
His voice turned flat. “Seven years… and we dreaded every minute. The older boys were always looking for trouble, picking on anyone younger. And every year, on my birthday, they’d really lay it on thick.” He paused, a bitter edge creeping into his tone. “The nuns would bake a cake… a deliberate taunt disguised as a celebration. We always refused, of course. But the other kids… they’d stuff their faces right in front of us, rubbing it in that we were stuck there another year.” He clenched his jaw, his voice dropping. “One year, I almost stabbed a boy. He made Lucio cry, throwing rocks at him, saying our mother didn’t love us.” He licked his bottom lip, puffing out a disbelieving breath. “The nuns? They didn’t care. Harsh penalties… they’d starve us for a day, sometimes more.”
Tears pricked my eyes, imagining him as a helpless child. The world was such a cruel place. No wonder he insisted on feeding me. He refused to treat me the same as those nuns treated him. “I can’t believe they tormented you… a child.”
“Unfortunately, it got worse.” His voice was low, cold. “I became a bit of a rebel, always causing trouble. The priests who often visited…”
“What?” He’d stilled beneath me, his gaze dark and focused ahead at nothing in particular. “What happened?”
“I don’t know if I should continue… what if this is all too much for you to handle?” The gentle stroke of his fingers recommenced along my shoulder, and I placed my hand over his, a reassurance. This had nothing to do with what I could handle, and everything to do with being here for him, letting him have someone to share his burdens. “Tell me, Enzo. Please.”
“They’d chain me to a tree in nothing but my underwear.” He rubbed a hand down his tired face. “I’d be left out all night in the cold.”
My throat closed, and I squinted. I had no words, but I wanted him to know he’d been heard. His pain mattered. I squeezedhis arm. “Did they…” Breathless, I took a moment to compose myself. “Did they all treat you so horribly? Wasn’t there at least one kind person?”Please, God, let there have been at least one.
A quick smile graced his face, matching the sudden twinkle in his eyes. “Martina. She was with us in the beginning, but by the time my punishments grew worse, she’d already been traveling back and forth to other convents.”
