“I’m not your father,” he says roughly.
“I didn’t say you were,” I argue. “But I know the world you travel in, and I can’t be a part of it.”
“Listen,” he says, his voice all business. “I appreciate your honesty. Now, let me be honest in return. I don’t want you to go. And I can protect you. You will never have to worry about something like that happening to you or me.”
How does he know I am worried about being shown a picture of his head the same way they showed me a picture of my father’s?
I can’t bear the thought of someone else going through what my father went through, even someone as rough and capable as Francisco.That’s all it is,I tell myself. Just one human concerned about another human. There are no romantic overtones. I simply don’t want to see him decapitated. That doesn’t mean I care.
Yet, the olive branch he’s offering is tempting. I don’t want to run. I’m tired of living out of a suitcase, and I haven’t even started. I like Francisco, and I like his son Frankie. And then there was that kiss just moments ago, the one that blew me off my feet.
Can I really ignore the sensations running through my body while he’s sitting so close? I’m torn, and he’s not making it easy for me. I think about everything that’s involved in running away. I’ll have to change my name again, and that’s not going to be easy. I don’t have the government or underground connections necessary for a passable fake ID. That means I'd have to file more paperwork to get a legitimate driver’s license under another pseudonym, and I have no idea how I’m going to accomplish that.
I'd also have to convince Brandon to run away with me, and I know that’s not going to be easy. He’s happy where he is, and I don’t want to be the cause of any more misfortune. Maybe it really will be okay, now that everything is out in the open.
Francisco knows my deepest secrets, something not even my best friend knows. He knows my real name, and that’s something I haven’t experienced in a long time. I feel like I’ve won a trusted confidante, someone I can go to in my times of need. Isn’t that worth fighting for?
“Okay,” I relent with a sigh. “I’ll stay.”
He relaxes visibly. His shoulders drop half an inch, and he leans back in his seat as if I’ve just lifted a great burden from his soul. He smiles gently, letting me know that he’s on my side. We’re in this together now. The walls between us crumble, leaving hope for a new life.
“I’m glad,” he says finally.
“Thanks,” I mutter. I’m not sure where to go from here. Half of me wants to invite him into my bed, and the other half wants to jump in his car and go wherever the wind takes us.
“Then I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asks, standing up.
“Yeah,” I agree, following him to the door.
He doesn’t kiss me again, but he puts his thumb and forefinger against my chin, caressing me gently. It’s such a tender expression, one that only husbands and boyfriends use, though I don’t have much experience with either. I look into his eyes and see grateful relief. It’s a shock to realize how much I mean to him, and how vulnerable he’s willing to be with me.
He finally leaves, and I watch him disappear down the hall, his bodyguards nowhere in sight. Feeling at peace for the first time in a long time, I return to my bedroom and unpack that damned suitcase. I’m staying right where I am, and damn the consequences.
CHAPTER 16
FRANCISCO
Iclimb into the backseat of the limo, my mind buzzing. Though I didn’t let on, I instantly recognized Marlena’s family name. The Roccas and the Corellos go way back in the old country. To hear my grandfather tell it, they were two peas in a pod.
I can’t wait to get home and check out the old family archives. There’s a handwritten tree inside that I think will prove illuminating. I wait patiently as my driver takes the freeway, glides through the neighborhood, and up the driveway to my palatial home.
I go straight to the office to find the book in question, and take it back to my desk. Opening it up, I skip to the back where the real information lies. There are five mafia families delineated on the back pages. One is the Corello family. Another is the Rocca family. There’s some intermarrying between the two way back, which only goes to show how strong the ties were.
I notice that in my father’s generation, there’s one member of the Rocca family with anXthrough his name. That’s a signal thathe was kicked out of the family for some reason. I’m not sure who I can ask to shed some more light on the subject.
There’s no mention of Marlena or her brother, Brandon. I wonder if they’re fruit of the poisoned tree, if the banished Rocca is in fact their grandfather. I pull out my phone and text Giovanni. He’s much better at rooting out information than I am, especially when it comes to family history.
Me:Come into my office.
A moment later, he’s there, waiting expectantly for me to ask for whatever it is I need. I turn the book around so that he can see the handwritten notes, and point to theX.
“I need you to find out everything you can about this man,” I say.
Giovanni takes the book with interest. He doesn’t ask me any questions, assuming rightly that it is none of his business. Instead, he nods in agreement and leaves with the book. I sit back in my chair, wondering what to do next. I have plenty of work I could do, but my head isn’t in the right place.
I can’t lean on anyone right now, or listen to a laundry list of complaints from my capos or soldiers. This whole situation with the potential mole has me concerned, especially since I’ve just uncovered some important information about Marlena. I want to keep her safe, and I’m not sure if I can do that. I don’t know who to trust, and while I hope that those who are closest to me have my best interests at heart, it’s hard not to be suspicious.
I need to clear my head, so I get up and walk around the garden. My landscapers have done wonders with the roses and the other flower beds. I take my time, letting the stress melt away. It’srefreshing to just allow myself to breathe in the fresh air and forget about all the management tasks in front of me.
