Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 90642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
“Elena can’t help herself. I would’ve come alone but she likes taking care of me.” He laughs as if he’s talking to an old friend. It’s perverse and disturbing. “Did you come all this way for me?”
“You know I did. Do you remember what happened the last time I saw you?”
“You tried to shoot Davide. I wouldn’t let you.” Dad shrugs as if it’s nothing. “Life gets in the way sometimes.”
“Yes, it does.” Santoro’s smile fades away. “I never wanted this, you know. Even back then I hoped that Freddie would see reason—”
“Please, don’t talk about her.” Dad sounds pained. He moves closer to Santoro. “This should be about us. You came here to put an end to all of this, didn’t you?”
Santoro nods once. “You know I did.”
“I was so angry with you, you know,” Dad says softly. They’re ten feet away now. Dad’s too close. If Brody’s waiting in the rafters with a sniper rifle, Dad might be putting himself in the line of fire. He needs to back up. I need to grab him and pull him back. But I can’t move.
It’s the way they’re talking to each other. There’s so much fondness in Dad’s eyes and even Santoro’s expression is almost loving. Like they’re dear old friends reuniting after a long, long time. Except these two have been trying to hurt each other since I was a little girl.
“What did you have to be angry about?” Santoro’s head tilts to the side. His hands turn to fists. “You’re the one who left me.”
“You know why I had to. When Freddie found out—”
“It’s always her, isn’t it?” Santoro’s jaw ticks. I don’t understand what they’re saying. I can’t connect words to actions of the men standing before me. But I’m wrapped up in this conversation and only vaguely aware of Luca Moretti also staring at the pair of them with his eyebrows tight and his mouth hanging open.
“She’s the mother of my children. The matron of my Famiglia. You knew it was always going to come back to her. I love her as much as I loved you.”
I cover my mouth. I don’t understand. Santoro steps forward, a snarl on his lips, real anger in his face now.
“You could have found a way. You could have made her understand that it wasn’t some fling we had, but that we were in love, that we mattered.”
“She threatened to leave me,” Dad says and the agony in his voice makes my stomach churn. “What was I supposed to do? Luciano, it killed me back then, to end things with you the way that I did. And even after you took Davide—”
“I was never going to hurt him.” Santoro seems to shrink back, and I swear he actually looks contrite. “I went too far. I loved your children, you know that.” His eyes flick to mine and I can’t move. I feel like my legs won’t work. I should be screaming, pleading with them to make sense. I should be running for the door and begging Brody to get in here and end this. But I can’t.
“I know that, but they didn’t understand. They couldn’t understand. It broke my heart when you turned against me, but I never let go of you. Not even after we became enemies.”
“Alessandro.” Santoro steps closer. Now the two men are only a few feet apart. “I’m sorry. I wanted to say this to you a thousand times, but we both know how this has to end. I never should have taken Davide. I never should have run away. But I loved you so much, and you broke my heart.”
Dad nods, and he’s crying. I’ve never seen my father cry like that. And suddenly, it all clicks into place.
They were lovers. They weren’t just best friends—they were together. They had a relationship, and when Mom found out about it, she made Dad end things. That drove Santoro crazy, and he made some terrible, stupid decisions, and now here we are, standing in this warehouse. All because these two men loved each other but couldn’t be together.
“You know how the Famiglia is.” Dad’s bitterness is palpable. “They never would have accepted me if they knew about the two of us. It wasn’t just Freddie, but it was the organization too.”
“It took me many years to understand, but I do understand.” Luciano’s two feet from him now. Close enough that they could touch.
“But then you came back home.” Dad’s tone shifts. There’s palpable tension now, and I feel my legs starting to thaw, and I can finally start to see my father for who he truly is.
A man who was in love. A man with a broken heart.
That’s why he kept letting Santoro go. That’s why he kept holding back. He knew that he’d hurt Santoro all those years ago, and maybe on some level, they were still in love. Only they could never be together.