The death of my brother the other.
“They were good people, very loving.”
“A car accident. Right?”
I allowed a deep stream of air to release, maybe one I’d been holding deep within my lungs since hearing the news. At this point, the sound was far too bitter to hide anything. “They were murdered.”
She stopped in the middle of the road where we were crossing over, causing two drivers to honk their horns.
“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” My demand was far too angry as I pulled her out of harm’s way. The thought of losing her gutted me. I’d never had this kind of reaction with a woman before. Not once.
Her grip was firm, her gaze imploring. “Wait. They were murdered?”
Until I had her safely on the sidewalk, I didn’t answer. “Yes. They were shot, which was why I left Sicily.”
“I’m confused. That’s not what I was told. What does that mean, the reason you left your home?”
“That means,” I answered as I placed my arm around her once again. As crazy as it sounded even to me, keeping her close grounded me. “My father was a target of some very bad men he’d gone up against in the government. They didn’t like what he had to say so he and my mother were eliminated on their way home from a dinner reception.”
“Oh, my God. Did the authorities catch who did it?”
“Are you kidding me? The government was and likely is as corrupt as the gangs of criminals and the Italian Cosa Nostra. Perhaps more so. At least with the mafia, you knew their position. There was no hiding behind laws.”
“That’s just… How old were you?”
“Old enough to know I couldn’t stay. My father was smart enough to teach me how to care for myself and my brother, including training me what to do if anything should happen to him. That included forging papers so I could leave the country with my brother.”
“That’s why you came to the United States.”
“Yes.”
“Given how your parents died, why did you even consider joining the Prince family?”
Now I laughed because the reasoning would likely sound ridiculous. “I’d had no intention of doing so. Believe me. But I had a younger brother to feed and care for and finding work even though my identification said I was eighteen didn’t come easily. After not being able to find anywhere decent to live, what few possessions we’d had stolen one night, we ended up on the streets. We were discovered by your father.”
“I had no idea.”
“Your father was a very private man. Not the kind to air his dirty laundry, especially when discovering two scrawny kids on the street had succeeded in swindling his wallet. Did you honestly expect a welcome wagon or for him to share in his weak moment?”
Her smile was wide as she shook her head. “Hell, no. I’m surprised you’re breathing. What did my father do to you?”
“He put us in a home owned by one of the soldiers. He fed us, clothed us. Since I was the thief, I was required to work off my crime.”
“That was my father for you. He preferred teaching lessons.”
“I was bitter and angry at first, refusing to cooperate. But he was both patient and strict with me and with my brother. But in the end, he inspired loyalty. He even paid for our education, which he didn’t need to do.”
“That’s when you became more like family.”
“In a way. He treated me with respect and I felt I owed him.”
She stopped once again, only a block away from the rental house. “I think you paid off your debt several times over. You don’t need to feel like an indentured servant any longer.”
Maybe this was the point where I was supposed to take back all I’d said to her, the possessive demands I’d made. That wasn’t going to happen.
“I don’t. Don’t you understand, your family became my family.”
“I can understand why.” Her features softened, yet her eyes remained imploring.
