Page 87 of King of War

He’s quiet. Patiently waiting for me to speak. It still fucks with my head that he’s a priest. A man whose teenage years were more violent and debauched than even mine. Mama definitely influenced him to join the priesthood, but I know it was about more than that. It was a way to be able to look himself in the eye every day. And at least now he seems at peace with himself.

“I’ve done a lot of fucked-up shit in my life, Angelo.”

He’s still silent. This is not new information to him. He was there for a lot of it.

“And I don’t ask for, or want, forgiveness for any of it. But for this…” I drop my head into my hands. “I fucked up so horribly. I let her down, and I did it when she needed me more than she ever had before.”

“And are you here to ask God to forgive you?”

I shake my head. “No. I don’t give a fuck about him.” The words come out before I can stop them. It’s the truth, but for Angelo’s sake I should have kept that to myself. He doesn’t reprimand me, doesn’t walk out of this confessional booth in disgust.

I take a breath, hoping it does something to calm this raging storm of guilt and anger within me. “But I do want her forgiveness. Even though I don’t deserve it, and even though I have no right to ask for it.” My voice cracks and the guilt is so fierce in my chest that it’s going to crush my lungs.

He doesn’t answer. Instead, the sound of the door opening and the movement of his feet is all I hear. Now, he leaves his confessional booth! Thanks, buddy.

But he hasn’t left me, because a moment later he’s squeezing into the tiny wooden box in front of me. He takes my face in his hands and tips my head up so that I’m looking into his face. “You’re right. You absolutely don’t deserve her forgiveness, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t do everything in your power to let her know how sorry you are.”

Angelo was right. I need to show Rayne how sorry I am, and not for her forgiveness, but because she deserves to know. So, what did I do when I left the church? Came straight to our family hotel to speak to the rest of my brothers instead of going home to her—because I have no fucking clue how to show her.

I fill them in on my intention, and Luca and Micah just stare at me perplexed, as clueless as I am.

“You need the grand gesture,” Rafael announces confidently.

“The what now?”

“The grand gesture. Like in the movies.”

Fuck, my head hurts. “I don’t watch those kinds of movies, Raf,” I remind him. “I have no idea what the grand gesture is.”

He rolls his eyes. “Like, do something grand and romantic. Buy her a Bugatti, or better still, a tiger.”

Nope. Material things don’t impress her, and I assume the tiger is a joke—although it’s probably not considering who suggested it. When I proposed to her all those years ago she was more overjoyed with the trail of Post-its I left all over the house for her than she was the four-carat diamond. “She would hate the car, love the tiger, but then she’d insist we fly it back to Siberia or wherever the hell it was from and set it free.”

Raf shrugs now, his dark eyes twinkling with amusement. “Then figure out something else, Enzo. Get her whatever her heart desires.” He clutches his hands to his chest and flutters his eyelashes.

I grab a pen from Micah’s desk and toss it at Rafael’s head, which he expertly ducks. “So I need to figure out what she wants most in the world?”

“Seems so, if we’re taking dating advice from a man who keeps people as pets,” Micah says.

Rafael flips him the bird.

I screw my eyes closed, mentally checking off the things she loves. Animals. Nature. Bees—even though she’s deathly allergic. Photography. None of these are jumping out with any kind of grand gesture inspiration. “How the fuck am I supposed to know the answer to this?” I snap.

“You could ask Angelo?” Rafael suggests. “Maybe there’s something he remembers she always wanted from when she was a kid?”

“No need. You already know the answer yourself, Enzo,” Luca says, and when I glance at him he’s staring at me, a look of certainty on his face.

Of course, I do. The one thing she always wanted more than anything. A family. “Yeah.”

Luca gives me a half smile. “Anything I can do to help?”

“Can you make Mama’s fettuccine and bring it to my place in a couple of hours?”

He nods.

Exhilaration and something that feels like hope floods my veins. Maybe I can pull this off. While it won’t be the family she dreamed of, it will be a family, and the start of something bigger—please fuck, let it be the start of us again. “Right, I need all of you fucks to be at my place for dinner tonight. Be there at six. Don’t be late. And be on your best fucking behavior because we’re going to give Rayne exactly what she’s always wanted.”

Rafael frowns, confused, but I have no time to explain. It’s almost three o’clock now. I slap Luca on the back. “Fill them in on the plan. I have shit to do.”