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1275 Words
Maria has never really liked me much. She always said I was too much. Too wild, too loud. I spoke too much and did things carelessly. I was the opposite of a good Italian girl. She hated my recklessness. There was a time after my mother left that Maria stepped up, trying to fill her space. She wanted us to see her as a mother, as well. While Tony was all too happy to do so, I couldn’t bear the thought, so I pushed her away. I may have said some hurtful things in the process. I was a thirteen-year-old grieving from being abandoned. Maria listened, though; she backed away, and we’ve spent the past decade tiptoeing around each other.
Still, I want to move forward and comfort her. I’m woefully unaware of what to do in situations like this. What am I supposed to say to a woman who just lost her husband? Thankfully, Rosa looks up and notices me. She offers me a shaky smile before gesturing for me to give her a minute. I move from the doorway and lean against the wall on the opposite side of the hallway.
Two minutes later, Rosa steps out. She’s two years younger than me with long, glossy black hair. She has gorgeous blue eyes and a pretty, doll-like face. She’s tall and slim. I’ve never seen Rosa look anything less than put together. But right now, she’s a complete and utter mess. Her eyes are smudged with mascara, her cheeks are wet, and I can tell she’s barely holding it together.
I don’t hesitate to take a step forward and pull her into my arms.
“Oh, God, Rosa. I am so sorry,” I breathe, even though it doesn’t feel like enough. It’ll never be enough.
She hugs me back for a few seconds before pulling away. “Who told you? Tony?”
I nod. “He was pretty distraught. How are you holding up?”
“Well, I’m still in denial. I keep thinking it’s a joke and my dad will walk up the stairs and hug me, you know?”
“I understand, sweetie,” I say softly.
She has no idea. I spent the first two months after my mother disappeared believing she would come back home and we could be a family again. The situations aren’t comparable, though. My mother abandoned me. Rosa’s father is dead.
“Come on, let’s go downstairs. Mom has asked for space,” she says, taking my arm.
“Are you sure you should leave her alone?” I say hesitantly.
Rosa nods. “She needs it right now. I’m glad none of the men are here. She would have been forced to try her best to keep it together around them. At least now, she can grieve alone.”
“About that. Where did they go?”
She sighs softly. “Roman has ordered that there won’t be any funeral or mourning until they avenge Papa’s death. They’re out there now. Every single man that’s still loyal to the family is trying to capture the man responsible.”
My fists clench. That explains my father and brother’s absence. “Is that really necessary?”
I understand their need for revenge, but shouldn’t they be allowed to mourn the loss of a man who meant so much to all of us?
A sheen appears in Rosa’s eyes. “He’s the Don now. His word is law.”
My eyes bulge as it hits me. I hadn’t even thought about that. “Oh, God. I just realized Roman’s in control now. Everyone’s screwed. There must be a party down in hell.”
It’s a small victory, but I manage to get Rosa to smile at that. A small, tiny smile, but it’s enough.
She bumps her shoulder into my side. “Don’t be mean.”
I shrug. Then my expression sobers. “How is he, though? How’s everybody?”
She sighs. “Well, Roman hasn’t said a word since yesterday except to bark orders at everyone and everything. He has shut down, which is typical. Your dad is pretty much the same. He has this haunted look in his eyes.”
Pain flits across my chest at that. My dad and Ricardo were best friends. He was the closest person to the Don apart from Vincent. I’m sure Dad is blaming himself right now.
Rosa continues, “Your brother hugged me and told me he was sorry. Michael’s walking around with a bullet wound on his shoulder.”
I gasp. “What?”
“He got shot yesterday. He stayed still enough for the doctor to remove the bullet, but he’s refusing any other medical treatment until Vincent is captured. They’re all itching for revenge. We lost Miguel, too. And three other men. I can’t blame them for pushing aside their grief.”
“They’ll be okay,” I murmur soothingly.
We take a seat in the living room and she rests her head on my shoulder. I pull her closer, rubbing her arm. I hate that I returned home in the middle of a disaster. But there’s no other place I’d rather be than by my family’s side during this moment of utter devastation.
We’re still talking when we hear the front door open. We both get to our feet, heading to the foyer. I spot Roman first, followed by Tony and Michael. They all look worse for wear, haggard, tired. I try not to flinch at the sight of the blood spatter on the sleeve of Tony’s shirt. None of them look surprised to see me here. I open my mouth to speak but Rosa beats me to it.
“Is it over? Did you get him?”
Michael’s the one to reply. “Not yet, Rosa.”
“Are you guys okay? Where’s Dad?” I question.
“Dad’s taking care of things on the Upper East Side, problems with a couple investors,” my brother replies. “Good to see you home, mi hermana.”
I smile. Roman clears his throat, drawing our attention. I finally look at him—really look at him.
Thick, wavy dark hair, cheekbones so sharp they could chisel ice, and eyes the color of the night sky. His broad shoulders fill out the white shirt he’s wearing. Everything about Roman De Luca screams power and confidence. He exudes s*x appeal. He’s probably the most good-looking man I’ve ever seen. He reminds me of the mythological sirens. They reel you in with their beautiful faces and voices and then drown you.
Right now, though, he looks worse than I’ve ever seen him. I open my mouth to ask how he is but decide against it. If I’m lucky, he’ll ignore me; if I’m not, he’ll say something cutting, reminding me how much I dislike him and why. He’s going through a lot. The best thing I can do is keep my distance.
His eyes are also on me, assessing. He hasn’t seen me in over a year. He shakes his head slightly before turning to my brother.
“We don’t have time for pleasantries. You two get changed. We meet the D’Angelos in thirty minutes,” Roman says before walking away.
The D’Angelos? The name sounds vaguely familiar, but I can’t put my finger on it. Before I can question my brother, he shakes his head. He offers me a slight smile and squeezes my shoulder before following the new Don.
Michael stops in front of me to place a kiss on my cheek. “Welcome home, Lena,” he says warmly. Then he’s gone, too.
- Writer
