I'm still holdingDarian close, running my fingers down the length of his back, but he won't stop trembling. "What's wrong?" I give him a gentle squeeze. "You can tell me anything."
When he speaks, his voice is barely above a whisper. "Do you remember the argument I had with Clemenza the night he died?"
"The one about his laundry?"
"It…wasn't about laundry." I don't like where this is headed, but I don't stop him talking. "Tony Clemenza recognized me. He knew who I was—or rather, who my mother was. She got mixed up with a Clemenza Capo years ago in New York. Mr. Clemenza said I-I looked just like him—the son of one of Mr. Clemenza's oldest friends, Bobby Lucci."
I have to fight not to push him away and stare at him. I need to hear this, even though a sick sense of dread is building up in my gut.
Darian seems to sense it. "You have to understand," he pleads. "I had no idea. I only found out today, after I spoke to her. Shedidn't want to admit it, but when I told her Tony Clemenza had been killed?—"
"You told your freakingmotherabout Castellani business?" Darian pulls away now. I try to calm my outrage. "You shouldn't have done that, D."
"It's not Castellani business," he says, and he's getting that old stubborn tone in his voice that I haven't heard for a long time. "It'smybusiness. And no. Before today, my mother—well, she was under the impression that I worked for a Hollywood producer. I never told her the name."
So he lied to his mother. I suck in a deep breath and pull him over to the couch, sit us both down. "Okay. So—today—you called your mom and she said…what?"
Darian looks down at his hands, his fingers wrapping into each other and squeezing. "She always refused to tell me who my father was, said she couldn't remember his name. I assumed maybe it was a one night stand. But as soon as I told her that Mr. Clemenza had been murdered, she gave in and admitted it. Said that Iwasthis man's son—John Roberto Lucci. But she'd left him behind a long time ago, and he never even knew she was pregnant. When she found out she was going to have a baby, she…she ran to get away from that life." Darian looks up at me again, eyes shining as he blinks rapidly. "She said she didn't want to bring me up in that world. So she ran." He shrugs. "I always wondered why she was so stuck on staying in a tiny little town in Oregon when she was so into fashion. I told her once or twice, she should go back to New York, work in the industry there. She always shut me down hard."
"O…kay," I say slowly. "So your dad is this Clemenza guy?—"
"Was. He's dead now," he says distantly. "She said he died in the war with the Morellis; she read it in the news. But…" He takes a deep breath. "But she left behind debts when she left New York. Unpaid debts. Tony Clemenza knew about it. Said he'd get his reimbursement frommeinstead—in the form of information about the Castellanis."
I stare at the wall now, cursing under my breath. How did I fucking miss this? "Did you...?" I can't bring myself to finish the question, but Darian knows what I'm asking.
His eyes are glassy with tears. "I didn't tell him anything and Ididn'tkill him, Raffi. Iswear. Please—you know me. You have to believe me. I had no idea about my mother's past—she's so upset that I found out—it's all…it's all a big mess, and I don't—" He breaks off with a half-sob. "Youhaveto believe me."
I want to tell him that I believe him, of course I believe him.
But he lied. He lied tome. "Why didn't you tell me before?" My voice sounds harsh, but I can't help it.
"I was scared," he whispers, throwing his arms around me from the side and hugging me tight. "I didn't know who I could trust."
"You could have trustedme," I growl.
"I know that now. But at first, I didn't. And you're so black and white about everything?—"
I pull out of his embrace, turning around to stare at him. "Black and white about everything? Are you fucking kidding me?" I scrub my hands over my eyes, which are burning from lack of sleep. My brain, too, feels like it's on fire.
He reaches for my wrist. I pull it away. "Raffi,pleasetry to understand. I thought Clemenza wasinsane. It's not somethingI ever knew about my mother. She only admitted it today when I called her on Leo's phone and outright demanded to know."
"Tell me everything again," I say. "And I swear to God, Darian, if you hold anything back…" At his expression, I take a breath. "I want to help you," I tell him, forcing my voice to be calm. "But I can't do that if I don't know the whole truth."
Sandro was right. That's the thought battering away at the back of my brain. Sandro said my judgment was clouded, and he was right.
"I told you everything," Darian says, a little frown tugging at his mouth. "That's it. Mr. Clemenza recognized me the first day he arrived, took a long look at me that first night, then again at breakfast the next day. He pulled me aside during a break in the formal dinner, and that's when he threatened me—just before you came in—and said he wanted information about the Castellanis' dealings, their schedules. But I went there that next morning to tell him I wouldn't spy on my employers. On…onyou."
I stand and move away from the couch. Away from Darian. I need space.
I need to think.
"Raffi, I would never betray you. Not after..."
I know what he means to say. Not after we've become lovers.
Oh, myGod. Sandro was so right, it's making me feel sick. I let my guard down, failed to focus on the job, and fuck me, if it isn't the consequences I'm looking at now. "Who killed Clemenza?" I ask.
"I have no idea."
