“Meaning what, exactly?”
Nonno sighs. “You both have strong feelings for one another, but you’re too wrapped up in your own shit to see it.” I don’t respond, merely stare blankly at the man because I have no clue what the hell he’s rambling on about.
Nonno sighs again. “The girl carries the burden of guilt. It weighs heavily on her heart. I can see it. Your mother was the same.” Nonno smiles softly. “Alessia thought it was her fault Gianni did all the things he did. That she deserved his wrath because she brought him into the family instead of marrying her betrothed.”
“She wasn’t to blame for Gianni’s shit. He was fucked in the head. Everyone knows that,” I argue.
“Yes, but Alessia, in her own way, believed his cruelty was her penance for all the trouble he caused the family and all the pain he bestowed upon you kids.” Nonno looks momentarily lost in thought.
“And you, my boy. You have always thought yourself incapable of love. But I don’t think you understand the meaning of the word. Because if you did, you would understand that the way you cared for your mother and the protective way you takecare of Giselle—that is love. And if I’m not mistaken, you feel the same way about Althea. We all watched the fear that came over you when you thought she might fall apart with what she was hearing. You held her close. Gave her your strength. I’d sayifyou’re not in love with her, you’re well on your way.”
“If what you say is true, if this is love I’m feeling, how do I convince her, Nonno? Because what I felt for Mama and for Giselle are not the same.” I scoff. “I protect Giselle because I’m all she has, and Mama would’ve wanted it that way. Not to mention the beatdown you and my uncles would’ve given me as a boy if I hadn’t taken care of her. It’s my job as her brother.”
“Yes. Just like it’s your job as the family’s enforcer to marry Althea to prevent a war that your idiot father should have never started. Thestronzocan’t stop messing with us, even from the grave. Nevertheless, you have feelings for the girl. Am I right about that?”
“I feelsomethingfor her, yes. But I don’t know if I would call it love.”
But there’s definitely something powerful between us.
I don’t want to tell him she’s the best fuck I’ve ever had or about the beautiful way she gives herself over to my control. How her need for pain feeds my need to disperse it. Those don’t seem like what he means by love.
“All right. How about this? If you don’t love her, then why, when you heard Nazario say she was a traitor, didn’t you do what you were ordered?” His voice grows stern.
Shit. Did I read this wrong?
“I didn’t believe Althea to be a traitor. I still don’t.” I answer truthfully. “And even if I did, she’s a woman. I wouldn’t kill her.”
“No. But you would’ve punished her in other ways. Maybe gifted her to Mesias’ men to be punished. Would you not?”
“Fuck no!” It comes out in a growl. My fists clench at my sides, and I watch as Nonno smiles.
“That’s what I thought.” He walks over, sitting himself beside me and pats my shoulder. “You were going to marry her regardless of what Nazario ordered or how Caspien may or may not feel because you’ve already decided she’s yours. It’s the only reason a man would forsake the orders of his Don.”
My brows crease in confusion.
“There isn’t a manalivewho ever tried to convince me to harm or leave your Nonna.” He pointedly looks at me. “And if there was anyone who wished to try again now, they’d find themselves buried with the rest of them.”
“Someone tried to take her from you? Who? When?” I’m angry as this is the first I’ve heard of this.
“I said they aren’t alive. Same as anyone who tries to take Althea from you, hm?” Nonno presses.
He’s right. I’d slit the throat of anyone who tried to take Althea away from me.
Nonno stands up, pats my shoulder and says, “Your Nonna wasn’t always convinced I was the one for her. A woman needs to feel special, wanted. She needs her man to meet her needs in a way no one else can. Show her you can do that, and she will give you her heart without reservation.”
A few minutes later, I make my way out to the cottage where I find Stavros outside, sitting at a small table near the front door.
“She ran downstairs and grabbed a bottle of wine and a glass, then I heard the water running upstairs. I grabbed myself an espresso and then came outside. I don’t think she knows I’m here, and I didn’t want to accidentally walk in on anything you would kill me for seeing.” He explains, taking a sip of his drink. I smile at how well he knows me.
“You’re free to go for now.” He doesn’t hesitate. Instead, he grabs his drink and heads down the short path to his place for the night.
Upon entering the house, I notice two things. One, the smell of citrus and jasmine. The one that always lures me in. Althea’s scent. And two, the sound of someone sobbing coming from upstairs.
I make my way up to the bedroom and quietly stalk through the space to the en suite where I find the source of both the scent and sounds.
Althea is in the tub, her head laid in her hands, as her shoulders shake and soft sobs escape her lips. Pushing the door open, I move into the room, and that’s when I notice the almost empty bottle of wine sitting beside the tub.
“Baby.” Althea’s tear-stained face looks up at me from where she sits. Her eyes, red-rimmed and her cheeks flushed. Something inside my chest feels as though it cracks, and I find myself afraid to move closer for fear I might make things worse.
