Making my way toward the medical wing, I do my best to ignore the guard trailing behind me. He, at least, doesn’t bother speaking to me. Although, someone really needs to teach him how to walk quieter. His steps announce us far in advance, and I could use the element of surprise.
At least, with him trailing me, I’m not stopped and asked any questions. Because fuck if I know how I’d answer them. I haven’t made it a secret that I’d prefer Allesandro dead. Preferably bymy own hand, but I’m not overly picky. However, learning about the past, if it is true…well, fuck. I may just owe him my own life.
I hesitate briefly at the door to Allesandro’s room. I glance at the bodyguard, who immediately takes up a defensive position at the entrance, and with a deep breath, I brace myself to enter. Rolling my shoulders back, I stand as straight as possible before walking in, not bothering to knock, since the door is partially open.
My feet stutter to a stop when I’m halfway to the bed, the air almost freezing in my lungs. Fuck. I know Marcus said Allesandro took the bullet for him, and Doc struggled to keep him alive, but Il Padrone has always been larger than life. The last thing I expected was a man who has seemingly aged overnight, frailer than I ever would have guessed, with a gray tinge to his complexion. Swallowing hard, I’m faced with the memories of the past, and I flinch from them.
The first time I met Il Padrone. His coldness. The intelligence in his shrewd eyes. And rapidly more images invade my mind. The brief smiles of pride, as I'm given the privilege of being in charge of the whores. The twins. And the change in him after meeting Lio.
Fuck.
The bonds created; between us Boys, between our Master and us, and the fucking found family. Knowing I had a place in life that I’d never had before… Why the fuck had it all turned to shit? And what if Luca and Marcus are right? What if, for once, he’s the one who deserves forgiveness…? The same forgiveness he’s offered so many of us…
His eyes open, the vivid blue color appearing washed out. With a grunt, he lifts his hand, shakily, and struggles to sit up. I rush forward, unable to do anything else. Without a word, I help him to get comfortable, before grabbing the water from the bedside, letting him take small sips. I help arrange his pillows, sohe's sitting more upright, and he gives me a grateful look as he relaxes back with a sigh.
For the longest time, we sit in silence. Hell, I’m not sure where to begin, and the man I know—or I guess, knew—would have made the first move. This man? He doesn’t. Instead, he watches me warily, without any fight. I grind my teeth, hating the sympathy that swirls inside me. Fuck. It wasn’t supposed to be this hard…
Finally, I grit out, “Why?”
He blinks at me, his mouth opening before he closes it again on a deep sigh. Looking down, he picks at the blanket covering him. With a shake of his head, he lifts his eyes back to mine, and for a moment, I see a flicker of intensity…only it’s that of a burning man. A man pushed so far to the edge, consumed by fear, anger, and hate.
I don’t think it’s hate for me though. Not given the way exhaustion lines every inch of his face. It makes me want to scream and cry, because it drives home again that this is not the man I know.
Clearing his throat, he chokes out, “Why…is such a wide question. Why did I become Il Padrone? Why did I create Boys? Or why did I fall in love with Lio? Maybe you mean why did I hurt him—and fuck everyone? Why did I toss everything in the trash, including my very life?”
Steeling myself against the words that rub me like sandpaper, I change my question. “Is it true? Did you save me from the Columbians?”
“Fucking Columbians,” he sneers, and I breathe easier.
It’s still him. Somewhere, deep inside, the man I knew still resides. Fuck, who knew I’d be relieved by that?
With a shrug of a shoulder, he waves the past away. If only it was that easy. “I received word, almost too late, that you were going to be sold. You know I don’t believe in that shit. It’swhy Luca is now taking down Sergio, despite us being related. It’s one thing if you want to work in that area, but fuck letting anyone else own you. I took care of it. And then, afterward, I destroyed them. You are priceless. I wasn’t going to let them hurt you, or fuck, likely kill you.”
I rock back on my heels in shock. I know that the policies changed after his father died, but I never imagined I came that close to being a casualty myself. And fuck, it rocks me to the core. “Then why the hell did you leave me?”
“What?” he demands, his brow furrowing.
Growling, I pace the room, unsure how to word the feelings inside me, the ones that choke me. “After I took over the whorehouse…after you found your love. You stepped back. You didn’t…you didn’t stay.”
I stumble to a stop at his sharp inhale, my body becoming rigid. Softly, he responds, “Antonio, I never left you. I may not have been what you needed—I never could have been—but not once did I leave you. I barely saw Marcus when times were quiet, before vengeance struck our Family. But you? I kept you closer than the rest. That’s not to say I didn’t care about the others. I love all of you Boys.”
That knowledge hits me hard. He’s right. After training, all of us Boys were given the option to move out of the household. To begin our lives as his inner circle, complete with our own responsibilities. But I never went far from him. Not like Marcus, who managed to have a child of his own. Shame burns in me at the accusation I threw at Marcus over his daughter.
Hell, the only one Il Padrone kept closer than me was Ignacio, and that likely had more to do with trust than anything else. Holy fuck. He didn’t leave me…he just couldn’t be what I needed.
Tears gather at the corners of my eyes, but I blink them away, unwilling to let them fall. Not until I have more answers.
“I already know your story. It’s fucked up.” He snorts at my flat delivery, and I can’t resist a smirk before I wipe it away. “But why did you hurt Lio? I know you actually love him, like, truly love him.”
His lips tighten as he shifts uncomfortably. For a moment, I wonder if he’ll answer. Fuck, I don’t know if he even can. Maybe he feels the same way, given how he slumps down in the bed. He looks away, staring into the distance. “You Boys…you’re my soul. But Lio? Lio is my heart. You say you know my story, but nobody really does, with the exception of maybe Luca, who knew me before all the Il Padrone bullshit. When I was just Sandro. Lio taught me that I still had something in me, something I thought my father killed.”
He touches his chest and winces. It doesn’t go unnoticed that the gunshot wound is close to where he places his hand. But still, he leaves his hand there, as if he needs that physical pain.
Pissed off, I snap, “You’re not answering the question.Why?”
Dropping his hand, he stares at me. “Because there’s no answer I can give you. None that will ever make this right, none that can help you justify me living. I came home to chaos…and not the kind I cultivated. My first instinct was to embrace the lessons my father taught me. To put an end to what I couldn’t control. And fuck…maybe I knew I didn’t deserve what I had. I. Have. No. Answer. What happened never should have. There is no amount of apologies that can make the past right.”
“So, what’s your plan?” I can’t fathom him not having one, but when he shakes his head, my stomach sinks further.
