“Let’s watch a movie?” Nic smiled widely as we walked through the front door. “I need a break from studying, and I know you do too, Gia. Plus, once Bea goes on tour, she won’t be around anymore to hang out and watch movies.”
“If I get the spot.” I forced a smile. They had no clue what was happening behind the scenes with our dad. If he had his way, I’d be headed to Mexico with the spawn of Satan. Though, to be fair, our father fit that description too. “But yes. Let’s watch a movie.”
“What are you in the mood for?” Gia dropped her purse on the table in the entrance way. Massimo and Carmine were coming inside behind her.
“Something with eye candy.” Nic laughed.
Gia and I looked at each other and burst out laughing. “I don’t think the guys will appreciate having to sit through Magic Mike, Nic,” I joked. “How about Twister?”
“The new one or the old one?” Nic asked as she moved toward the massive TV mounted on the wall and grabbed the remote off the mantel beneath it.
“If you want eye candy, the new one. If you want something iconic, the old one.” Gia grinned. “I’ll make the popcorn. Bea, you want to grab drinks?”
I nodded and followed her into the kitchen. As we disappeared into the next room, talking and laughing, a phone pinged from somewhere behind us. Gia had just put the popcorn in the microwave when the gunshot rang out, and Nic screamed in terror.
“Oh, my God,” I whispered. I didn’t know what happened, and I wanted to hide, but I also wanted to get to Nic.
One shot, that was it, then there was silence. Of all days for my father and Gino to be gone from the house. They weren’t much protection, but they were something from whatever was happening.
“Bianca. Giana,” I heard Massimo call out. “Come in here.” His voice was filled with anger. Giana and I looked at each other, not responding. “NOW!” he yelled.
I grabbed a small paring knife from the butcher block and slid it into the pocket of my skirt. If I had been wearing jeans, he would have been able to see the handle of it in my pockets, but the folds of the A-line skirt would mask the shape of the knife. I didn’t know what we were walking into, or if or how I would use the knife, but I felt a little better having some form of protection.
Gia and I walked back into the living room hand in hand. Carmine was on the floor in a puddle of his own blood, his eyes staring vacantly at the ceiling. Nic was still by the TV. She was frozen as the gun in Massimo’s hand pointed directly at her. Nausea hit swiftly at the sight of him dead on the floor.
“Massimo,” I whispered his name. He’d been our driver, our friend, our protector for months. “Why?” I sobbed, glancing down at Carmine’s lifeless form again. Gia squeezed my hand tightly, signaling she wanted me to stay quiet.
“Get over there next to Nic,” he commanded, his voice sounding on the verge of hysterics.
Gia and I moved toward our younger sister without hesitation. I made sure to position myself so that Gia was between Nic and me, that way I could get to the knife if the opportunity presented itself.
My heart hammered in my chest, and I wished Lorenzo and Romeo were here. They would know what to do and how to gain control of this situation. Hell, Massimo would already be neutralized if my brother and husband were here. Massimo would have had to kill them first because both men alwayscarried, and as soon as he shot Carmine, he would have been dead.
“Massimo,” I tried to gently say his name again. “Please. I don’t understand.” It made no sense. He’d flirted with me when he first started watching us. I tried to subtly remind him of that connection through my expression and voice.
His laugh was mirthless. “No. He made sure none of you would know or understand, but when he comes home today, he will find his children dead, at least the ones he deemed to claim.”
Nic whimpered beside me, and I slowly moved myself in front of her. Not that my body would be much of a shield for a bullet, but at least I could try to protect my sisters. They were my best friends, my only friends outside of Romeo and Lorenzo. Gia didn’t let me move forward on my own. She moved up beside me, placing herself between Nic and Massimo.
Massimo shook his head in disbelief when Nic moved forward beside us after she regained her composure from the shock and pain. We formed a line in front of a firing squad of one, but we would not cower in fear of him. Whatever had made Massimo do this, we would not run from it.
“Massimo.” Giana’s voice was calm and strong. “What happened? Why are you doing this?”
“Because your brother and your boyfriend,” he spat, looking pointedly at me. “Figured it out. They went to see my mother, and she no doubt told them everything.”
I sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Lorenzo isn’t my boyfriend.” If I was going to die, I wasn’t going to go to my grave with my love for him a secret. “He’s my husband.”
Nic and Gia both gasped. Massimo looked shocked but recovered quickly. “I knew there was something going down when I took you to the sex club that night.”
I nodded. “Yes.” I knew Gia and Nic would be confused, but I couldn’t lay everything out for them. I couldn’t explain what hadhappened or why. If we lived through this, I knew I would have a lot to answer for with them, but for now, having them know the truth was enough. “Now, answer our question, Massimo. You have to have a reason for doing this. What is it?”
“I want him to find you dead. All of you,” he screamed as his eyes passed over each of us. He ran his fingers through his hair and took a deep breath.
“What did he do to you, Massimo?” Nic asked softly. She was a bleeding heart with more compassion for people than they deserved most of the time. She was soft-hearted, and I worried about the career path she had chosen in nursing. You had to have thick fucking skin to be a nurse, and Nic was a softy through and through.
“He seduced my mother when she was fifteen years old, then got her hooked on drugs to keep her quiet,” he sneered at us. “Luca Morelli isn’t just your father, he’s my father too.”
The room was silent at the bombshell Massimo Costa had just dropped on us. I looked at him closely, searching for my father in his face. He was tall and whipcord lean. He wasn’t overly muscular, but neither were Dad and Romeo. His features were classically Italian, like the rest of us. There wasn’t anything that I could see in his features that screamed that he belonged to the Morelli family bloodline.
