I wantso badto burst into that room and shoutThat’s not true!
I don’t.
Tino asks, “Has he tried to run?”
Another pause. “You know about the overdose incident. I believe now that itwasan accident. He hasn’t tried to run from me. In fact…”
There’s another long pause, and for a moment, I think Luca is going to skate over Maggie, the phone, Pops’ phone call. But then he gives it up; tells Tino all about it.
There’s silence after Luca has finished telling tales on me. “I had hoped he would be useful to us…” Tino sighs.
“He knows nothing about his father’s business,” Luca says regretfully. “Beyond his father’s direction for him to kill me. But his father has kept him out of the family business. I’m not sure why.” I wonder if Luca is about to segue into asking what I want him to, about the hit on Mom, but then Tino replies.
“His father has his reasons. As I have mine for the things I do. You keep him happy, Luciano. Do you hear me? I don’t want him running off, going back to Boston. He is too important to me…to our Family.”
“I’m doing my best, sir.”
Tino made an explosive noise. “Fah! Your best? Have you told him you love him?”
“Certainly not,” Luca says, sounding as cold as I’ve ever heard him.
“And why are you holding back? Let himknowhe is loved, and let him love you—because he does, yes, Luciano, he does. It’s clear in his face every time he looks at you.”
This time when Luca speaks, it’s stilted, almost angry. “I can assure you, Don Morelli, hedoesn’tlove me. Nor I him. And—and I never will. I’m not a man who loves. It’s an emotion I decided to put aside at a very young age.”
Tino makes a wheezing, gasping noise, which I realize after a minute is him laughing. “Alright, Luciano. You might fool yourself, but you cannot fool me.”
I’m glad Tino finds it funny. I don’t. And I don’t bother to hang around any longer to hear Luca’s response.
I’m so fuckingtiredof his bullshit.
Maybe I should just get the hell out of here and take care of myself for a while, like I’ve been doing for years.
Chapter Thirty-Five
LUCA
Someone is shaking me.
“Bro! Bro!”
I’m swimming through syrup, and I can’t break the surface.
“Georgie!”
With a snarl, I lash out, and force my eyes open.
“Fuckin’finally,” Frank chokes. He grabs my wrist to pull my hand off his throat. He’s leaning over me. Where am I? “What thefuckis going on, Georgie? Marco called me soon as he arrived this morning. Guards out the front like sleeping beauties, you snoring away in here like you ain’t got a care in the world—and where the hell is Finch? You two have a fight or something? He make you sleep on the couch?”
I sit up at once, grabbing at the sofa arm to steady myself as my stomach lurches. My mouth tastes bitter and cottony, my head is stuffy. Bright sunlight is streaming through the curtains.
“Where’s Finch?” I rasp.
“Marco’s looking around for him…”
I’m trying to remember what happened last night. Dinner. Cigars. Tino and Connie left late. After that, things are murky.
I try to stand, but my legs won’t cooperate. “Where. Is. Finch?” I ask again.
