With a slow movement, Tino reaches for his cigar. “He has lost much, that boy. He needs to know, always, how much he is loved.”
“We are in complete agreement, Don Morelli.” I look around again—at the conservatory. The glass ceiling has returned, the sky hazy above it. “And you, sir? How are you?”
He laughs at that, the same wheezing chuckle that I used to take for granted I would hear for years to come. “Oh, I’m very well. Very well. And my other child, Luciano? How is she?”
“Like your son Finch, your daughter Marcella is safe and protected and loved, Don Morelli.”
The paternalistic sparkle has come back into his eyes. “You call me by that title so freely, Luciano. But it is not mine.”
The light is getting brighter. I can hear someone calling me again, far away but carrying, like someone shouting over a great stretch of water. There’s something heavy on my hand, and when I look down, I see the black onyx of the Morelli ring settled on my finger. “No,” I say, glancing back up at Tino. “It’s mine. Isn’t it?”
“Is it?”
I clench my hand shut, the edges of the ring pressing into my palm. “You gave it to me.”
“No.” He reaches over, puts his hand on mine, squeezes it hard. “You earned it, Luciano.”
At any other time, I might agree with him. But it’s coming back to me now, all the problems the title has brought with it. As Don Morelli I command hundreds of men. I have wealth beyond my wildest dreams. Most importantly, I can keep Finchsafe.
But I only have to worry so much about FinchbecauseI am Don Morelli.
If I were some lowly soldier still—or even a Capo—we wouldn’t be in such constant danger. Finch wouldn’t be a target that others aim at to get to me. “It should have been Angelo,” I tell Tino bitterly. “He would have been a better choice. More acceptable to The Commission. To the other New York Families.”
Tino is squeezing my hand again, almost too hard this time, my fingers crushed together in his grip. “Luciano, listen to me. I did not make my choice with the intention of it beingacceptableto the Commission. To the other Families. The only Family that matters to me is my own. You understand?”
“No, I do not understand, sir. I never have.”
“Perhaps you will come to understand in time. And as for Angelo…” He lets my hand go and picks up his cigar, turning it around in his fingers. “Tell him to live his life, the life he could not live with me. Now you must leave me to enjoy my breakfast, Luciano.”
I can’t go, not yet. There’s something in me that knows we will never meet again. “There’s still so much I have to learn from you.”
“Then learn from those who taught me. And look to the foundations, Luciano.” He stamps his foot twice on the paved floor. “Take care of the foundations, and everything else will come to you. Now go on, my boy.” He stands, and so I have to stand as well, or risk offending. He takes my hand, bends over it, kisses the ring. “Run along, little Don Morelli.” His smile is so kind that my eyes sting and prickle.
“Goodbye, sir.”
He waves me off, chuckling, finished with me, and as I turn away I hear a woman’s voice humming again, closer this time, calling out for him. I know the voice now—it’s Connie Taylor, his lover—no wonder he wants to get rid of me. With a private smirk, I make my way to the door. Marco is still waiting there, patient, alert, dependable.
“All good, Boss?” he asks.
“All good.” He begins to walk with me through Tino’s house, escorting me out. “Marco,” I say, stopping in the hallway. I turn to face him. “I think…”
“Boss?”
But I can’t get the words out. There’s something sprinkling over my face, something wet and cool, and the light is too bright, the room too noisy.
I can hear him. I can hear Finch, calling me, pulling me back to him from a universe away.
“Luca.”
Chapter Thirteen
FINCH
The entire time Luca has been in this hospital—my least favorite place in the whole of New York City, and that includes at leasttwowarehouses where I was beaten to within an inch of my life—I have been expecting to lose my argument with Death. And in the back of my mind I’ve been preparing for that the most sensible way I knew how: by planning my own death as well.
There was no way in hell I was letting Luca leave this world without me.
I think Aidan had an inkling. He’s stuck so close to my side this whole time it’s almost been irritating, and getting rid of that limpet clinging to me tended to involve ordering Teo to take him the hell home. I spent a lot of time considering my options, and I came up with several brilliant plans, if I do say so myself.
