Total pages in book: 197
Estimated words: 199143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 996(@200wpm)___ 797(@250wpm)___ 664(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 199143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 996(@200wpm)___ 797(@250wpm)___ 664(@300wpm)
Their long-standing feud hurt more than just their foolish prides.
Respectfully, and with a smile because that’s how Marcus was raised by his mother and father, the boy replied in French with, “Je vais bien, Grand-père.”
“His French is excellent.”
His English and Italian were just as good, too.
Gian smiled a little. “He’s nine, and knows how to accept a compliment.”
Frederic scowled. “I suppose he does. Give us a few minutes, Marcus?”
Marcus looked to his father, and Gian simply nodded. “Okay.”
“Not too far, though,” Gian added.
Marcus pushed off the bench, and waved a hand over his shoulder. “Compris, Père.”
Frederic took the seat that Marcus vacated. “Does he prefer French, or something?”
It irked at Gian that his father even had to ask that question. If the man made a little more effort to spend time with any of Gian’s boys, he would know damn well the answer to the question he just posed. An answer he should already know.
“Depends on the day,” Gian settled on saying.
Better to be nice.
Polite.
That was his way of trying.
He couldn’t do much more.
The silence stretched on for a while before Frederic broke it with the question he typically used to break the ice during these meetings. It never failed. Gian had gotten accustomed to preparing for it, really.
“Are you going to apologize this week?”
For killing Dom, he meant.
For choosing a woman over family.
For being him.
Gian shook his head. “No.”
“Shame,” his father murmured.
For a long while, the two stared at Marcus up the walkway where he carefully cleaned off his great-grandparents’ graves with careful, respectful hands. Every time they came to the graveyard, Marcus did exactly that as though it was his one job to maintain the stones, and clear away any debris.
He had never even met the people buried there.
Never heard their voices.
Didn’t know their love.
And yet, he loved them.
“He’s a good boy,” Frederic murmured, “and in too many ways, he reminds me of you.”
Gian swallowed hard. “Is that why you keep your distance from him—and my other boys, too?”
“Partially.”
The sting of that admittance was strong.
And damn hard to ignore.
Somehow, Gian did it.
He would not lash out; certainly not with his son there.
“But you should know,” Frederic continued, “that I pray for him and for you every day, and every night, Gian. I pray that he never does to you what you did to me. I pray that he never takes from you the way you took from me. I pray that you never have to know how it feels to feel the way I do every time I look at you—as though I both love you and hate you equally, and it’s become impossible to change.”
“Too late for that,” Gian replied quietly.
“Pardon?”
“Dom made me know that feeling. It didn’t have to be my son. My brother did it, but I don’t suppose you’ll ever understand, Frederic. You’ve never tried to.”
The Guzzi Boys
Everything was going to soon change, although Gian didn’t know exactly how much. As he watched his sons from his position on the marble stairs while they shared barbs and swam in their mansion’s indoor pool, he wanted to remember them exactly like this.
Marcus, the oldest. A few months away from his high school graduation. Already responsible. Gian’s mini-me, really. Ready for the world, and his place in la famiglia. Looking ahead at his destiny, and rarely concerned with his past.
Corrado and Christopher ... one more outgoing than the other, a good ying and yang, if there ever was one, he thought. One pushed the other, they bettered each other. And, in some ways, they reminded each other it was okay to be unique. And protective ... good God, were those two so fucking protective of one another.
Finally, his youngest ones.
The wild ones.
The two boys of his five that regularly made Gian think he was going to go all the way gray before his time.
Beni and Bene. What else could he say for those two except twin hurricanes. They mirrored one another in more ways than people understood. Inseparable, really. Trouble could find them, or they could make it, as long as they were doing it together.
Oh, and the protectiveness Chris and Corrado showed toward one another? It didn’t come close to the bond Beni and Bene shared.
So, as he watched his boys, one set of twins sitting along the edge of the pool to tease the younger twins throwing threats from the deep end, while Marcus sat on the diving board, laughing at the antics of his brothers ... Gian wanted to keep them like this.
Not quite men yet.
Still his boys.
The world hadn’t touched them in a real way, not yet. He didn’t have to worry about being their boss alongside their father. His life revolved around his wife, and their children, while everything else came second.
Soon, it would change. He simply knew, within the year, things inside their large mansion would be a lot different than it currently was.