I raised my eyebrows at him. “That’s it?”
Romeo’s gaze was different. He shrugged as he took a sip from the wine glass. It was as though my brothers had been replaced. Were these even the same people? I glanced from one of them to the other. Marcello seemed reflective, as though he was considering something deeply. Romeo was off. He was usually walking around, being an asshole. In his mind, he ruled the world. The person in front of me was not the brother I’d grown up with. His expression was soft, and his eyes were lowered.
Marcello looked at me. “Did you hear about Antonio?”
I turned to Marcello and nodded. “Yeah, I heard.”
“What do you think about it?” he asked, taking a long drink from his beer. “Seems like it was unnecessary to me.”
I averted my eyes, turning them toward Romeo. There was a softness in his gaze that was unusual. He should be alerting the world. I was surprised that he wasn’t running around the house, screaming Antonio’s name and celebrating his death. Antonio was the eldest Bonifacio brother—he was the one to be reckoned with. If anyone could rise up against us, it would’ve been him. So why wasn’t Romeo acting like himself?
I nodded. “It was.”
Still, Romeo didn’t speak. Marcello seemed to fall back into his thoughts. What could have made my brothers change? I hadn’t thought that they would ever be remorseful about the death of an enemy, especially a Bonifacio. If Lucia hadn’t been the heir to her father’s legacy, I was sure that Romeo would have shot her dead that night in the kitchen too. He was just like that. There was no empathy there, or so I’d thought.
I decided to try and bring around the conversation again. “Is this why you guys texted me?”
Marcello swallowed his beer and placed it back on the ground next to his foot. “I wanted to get your opinion on it. Dad’s pretty happy with having one less Bonifacio around.”
“Of course he is,” I said, more to myself than Marcello. “He won’t be happy until they’re all dead. I’m surprised he hasn’t killed Giorgio yet.”
Romeo cleared his throat, catching both of our attention. “Don’t talk about that. Lucia might hear you, and it’s bad enough that Antonio is dead. I don’t want to discuss Giorgio dying too.”
Marcello sighed. “Don’t forget that they killed Gianni.”
“Yes, I realize that,” Romeo said, his lips stained by the red wine. He shifted in the chaise lounge, his black dress shirt opening slightly at the top. “But we’ve had our revenge, haven’t we? Their parents are dead. Seems like a waste to kill the siblings too.”
I took a step back, unsure of how to react. Romeo was being logical? Romeo, the one who’d shot the Bonifacio parents in cold blood. The same person who had planned to kill all of the crime bosses in our syndicate. The same fucker who tormented me when I first showed up at the house.Hewas trying to condemn Antonio’s death? There was no way that was my brother. At least, not how I remembered him. He’d never so much as changed his hair, let alone his personality. He was not the kind of person to self-reflect.
I finished the last of my drink and wiped the remnants of the burning alcohol from my lips. “Well, as useful as this meeting was,” I said, shrugging, “I should probably get going. Text me if you guys actually need something.”
They didn’t react. It was clear they were still trapped in their thoughts.
