“Fuck, Isla. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
His voice is raw, and so is the expression on his face as he turns me gently to him, his arms wrapping around me in a tender hold. I hold him tightly, taking comfort in his strong, powerful body. He’s so vital, so alive, and all I can do is bury my face in his hard chest and breathe in as old sobs bubble up from the dark place inside me where I keep all my pain locked away.
“I d-don’t like to talk about it,” I tell him. “It’s been a few years, and I’ve mostly learned how to cope with everything that happened. But when I’m stressed or in an environment that is uncomfortable, the panic attacks sometimes hit me.”
“I had no idea. I’ll get you out of here as soon as I can. I promise you that.”
I hear the steely determination in his voice, and I know he means it. “Thank you. I’m… I think I’m okay for now.”
Even after talking about the crash, I don’t feel like I’m going to have an attack. The sadness and grief are here, lodged in my chest like a stone. But I can breathe. My heart doesn’t feel like it’s been kicked into overdrive.
That could change. My attacks have never been predictable, and they’re not always triggered in the same way. I’ve learned to expect anything at any time.
“I’m so sorry that happened to you,tesoro,” Alessio murmurs, kissing the top of my head. “I wish I had been there for you then.”
I do too, but I don’t say that. It would have been impossible anyway. I was a different person then. I hadn’t met Luna yet. I took some time to try to piece myself back together with the help of a therapist. And then I transferred to another college and started fresh in a new place. I met Christian. I tried to move on as best as I could, knowing my family would want that for me.
And then the fragile world I’d built for myself came toppling down, and I found myself at the mercy of a mobster. Wrapped in Alessio’s arms right now, it doesn’t feel like a bad place to be.
“Thank you,” I tell him.
We stand there like that for I don’t even know how long. I soak in his presence like we’re about to be parted for a lifetime. Because one day soon, we will be. And God, how I’m going to miss this man.
The phone in his pocket dings with a notification, and he straightens, reverting to Mafia mode as he releases me and pulls it out of his pocket.
He frowns as he taps the screen. “Looks like we have guests incoming. Lucky, my two half sisters, and the woman who birthed my brothers and me.”
I notice he refuses to use the wordmother, just like he did before. “I take it you’re not happy about this development.”
“I don’t want her here,” he says bluntly. “I have no use for the bitch who abandoned her sons to go raise her precious twin daughters. We went through hell all these years, and now she wants to come back into our lives like she never left? Bull-fucking-shit. Not happening. But Lucky pointed out that if we leave only her behind, the Russians could try to use her as leverage. I’m not going to have her death on my conscience. She’s not worth it.”
His voice is thick with bitterness and resentment.
It occurs to me that maybe this is one of the reasons we’ve connected so well. We both lost our mothers in different ways and at different ages. We both understand that emotional toll. Alessio has buried his in duty and obligation, carrying out his roles in the Andriani family. I buried myself in school first, then work and a relationship that never truly made me happy.
I take his hand and lace my fingers through his. “Let’s go greet them together.”
He doesn’t shrug away. Instead, his fingers tighten on mine, and then he brings our joined hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to the top of mine. “You’re fucking amazing. You know that?”
It strikes me suddenly, how easily I could fall in love with him. Without even trying.
But that’s a fear for later, so I smile. “You’re not too bad yourself, bartender.”
We walk out together, headed toward the elevator that’s lit up to show the latest arrivals are almost here. Instinctively, I know it’s going to be a long night.
A ding and the doors slide open, revealing two beautiful dark-haired women in their early twenties who have the same bright-blue eyes as all the Andriani brothers. The same noses too. One is a bit taller than the other, but otherwise, they’re obviously identical twins.
That’s not what strikes me the most, though.
What hits me, as they both smile and step off the elevator, a stately, middle-aged woman behind them who can only be Alessio’s mother, is that they look a whole lot like my best friend. But that’s weird. How can they look like Luna? I can’t stop staring. It’s like one of those internet optical illusions where half the population sees the dress as pink and the other half sees it as blue.
Lucky emerges from the elevator last, looking cocky as ever, but also a bit strained. Today has obviously been rough on everyone. Lucky’s gaze dips down, taking in the way Alessio and I still have our hands linked, before flicking back to his brother.
“Frattore mio,” he greets Alessio.
“Any trouble?” Alessio asks curtly.
I can feel the way he’s tensed up at my side. He’s slipped effortlessly back into his role of Mafia consigliere.
