Victorious Vice (Bellamy Brothers #6)

34. Vinnie

34

VINNIE

I ’m still in the office when Phyllis peeks through my cracked door. “Mr. Gallo? Your grandfather is here.”

I rise from my desk, shuffling a few papers around. “Thank you, Phyllis. I’ll be right out.”

I draw a deep breath, getting myself ready.

Inside, my guts are in turmoil. I feel like I need to run for ten miles to take the edge off. But there’s no time for that.

I look outside my office window into our backyard. The pool house stands in the distance, the sparkling blue water beckoning me.

About twenty-five laps would take the edge off too.

Maybe this evening.

I walk out of the office, down the hallway, and into the living area where my grandfather sits.

“Vincent,” he says.

“Mario,” I return.

“What the hell did I need to come all the way out here for?”

“It’s a fifteen-minute drive from your office, Mario. This wasn’t a hardship.”

“My own daughter’s house,” he says, looking around. “Paid for with my money. And you know I was hardly ever invited here.”

“I’m not surprised, given what I know now.”

He glares at me. “Family is family, Vincent. You’ll do well to remember that.”

“Will I?”

“You will. Blood is thicker than water, as they say.”

I laugh, shaking my head. I learned so much during that time I spent in the Buddhist temple in Tibet. One thing I’ll never forget is learning the true meaning of the old cliché blood is thicker than water.

“I agree,” I tell Mario. “Blood is thicker than water. In the original meaning of the phrase, ‘blood’ refers to bonds formed by choice, such as those forged in friendship or battle, while ‘water’ refers to family ties, as in the amniotic fluid of the womb. Do you know what that means, Mario?”

“I know it’s bullshit,” he says.

“You’re short-sighted,” I tell him. “I learned the true meaning from the wisest man I’ve ever met. Bonds made by personal commitment or shared experience can be stronger than those formed by birth or family. And in my case, that’s certainly true.”

“Bullshit,” he says again.

I can’t help a smile. “Look it up. The first version is always the correct version.”

“So family means nothing then?”

“Family can mean everything,” I tell him. “But when you treat your family the way you’ve treated them, Mario, family has no meaning.”

He sniffs. “I’m not going to justify myself to you or anyone else. I’m over eighty years old. Now what the hell am I doing here?”

“Fair question.” I nod toward the stairway. “Follow me.”

Once we walk up the stairway, I head toward the room where Serena is staying. I knock on the door.

Renée opens it. “Yes, Mr. Gallo?”

“Is she doing all right?”

“Yes. She’s resting. She enjoyed her snack.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Would you mind stepping out for a moment? I have a guest who wants to meet her.”

“Yes, of course. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Just give us about an hour. I’ll call for you if we need you.”

“Absolutely.” Renée exits the room, widening her eyes a bit as she spies Mario, and then she goes down the stairs.

I open the door. “Mario, I brought you a gift from Colombia.”

Mario walks in and then stops, nearly losing his footing.

I instinctively put out a hand to steady him.

“I’m not the monster you think I am,” he says softly.

I have no idea what he’s talking about, and I don’t rightly care.

He walks slowly toward Serena. Her eyes hold no recognition, but she does not look frightened. We’ve made her feel safe here.

“My God,” Mario says. “Serena, my love.”

Serena tilts her head, her elderly eyes sunken. “Who are you?”

“It’s me, my darling. Mario.”

Serena’s eyes dart from Mario to me. “No… You…”

I clear my throat. “When I found her in Agudelo’s attic, she thought I was you. Apparently I look a lot like you did when you were young.”

Of course there’s no doubt about that, unfortunately. I’ve seen the photos. I’m a dead ringer for my biological father.

How can I not be? I’m the product of him and his daughter. No other genes had a chance.

Mario closes the distance between him and Serena and kneels—actually kneels—before her.

I’ve never seen Mario kneel before.

He takes her wrinkled hand in his own.

The years have been kinder to him then they have been to her. Of course, he’s lived a life of luxury. She’s lived life as a prisoner, subject to torture.

“I never believed I would see you again,” he says.

“Mario?”

“Yes, it’s me.”

“You… You look different. You’re an old man.”

Mario smiles. Actually smiles, and it seems sincere. “And you’re an old woman, my love, but still as beautiful as ever.”

Serena hasn’t aged well, but underneath the wrinkles, the sunken eyes, the thin white hair, I can see that she possessed true beauty at one time.

Mario brushes her hair gently away from her face, his eyes gleaming with unshed tears. He studies her, looking at every wrinkle, every line that time etched on her face. His fingers trembling, he traces her cheeks, her jawline.

“You were always so strong, my love. Even now, I see it in your eyes,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “You’ve had to endure so much.”

Serena’s eyes are wet with tears. Mario’s touch, Mario’s voice has unlocked something within her.

“Her suffering was my doing,” Mario says, lifting his gaze to meet mine.

I open my mouth to… To what? To agree? He wasn’t the one who took her, tortured her. But it was because of his love for her that she was taken, tortured, held captive all those years.

The same reason Raven is in danger now because of me.

“Dear Mario,” she says. “I never blamed you.”

Mario’s eyes well up with brimming tears as he looks back at her. “I have carried that guilt, Serena,” he whispers. “Every day, thinking I’d lost you forever.”

Serena pats his hand gently, her own eyes reflecting a deep sorrow. “Life is cruel, my love, but we mustn’t let it control us.”

Mario returns his gaze to me. “How? Where?”

I widen my eyes. “I thought you knew. Somehow you knew. She’s why you sent me to Agudelo.”

He gulps, shaking his head. “I didn’t. I swear to you.”

“I don’t believe you. Why would you care about some stupid deal Puzo was trying to close? You?—”

He narrows his eyes. “That deal was important, Vincent. The fact that you left things hanging has us in a precarious position. And the fact that you took his daughter?—”

“He gave her to me. He knew I’d take her out of her country.”

Mario opens his mouth to offer a retort, but then shakes his head. “I don’t care. I don’t care about any of it anymore, Vincent. Where did you find her?”

Did he truly not know? “She was being held in Agudelo’s attic,” I say. “Daniela helped me rescue her and bring her home.”

Mario shakes his head again. “Agudelo didn’t mention Serena.”

“Maybe he doesn’t even know she’s gone,” I say. “It’s possible. Daniela was able to turn off the security. But her caretakers would have noticed…”

“It doesn’t matter.” Mario wipes his eyes. “All that matters is that she’s here. That she’s alive after all these years. Thank you.”

I scoff. “You think I did it for you? I did it for her . She’s innocent in all this. Her only crime is that you fell in love with her.”

“I was also in love with him,” Serena reminds me.

I look at the old woman, just a shell of the beauty she must have been. Even now, she seems to have no regrets.

Mario was once human.

Maybe Serena will help him remember that.

“I do not regret loving him,” Serena whispers, her voice wavering. “Even if I knew everything that would befall us, I would have chosen to love him still.”

Mario places his other hand over the one Serena is patting. His eyes are bright with tears he refuses to shed, his expression one of gratitude and anguish. “We were so young…”

“Innocence can be a form of blindness,” Serena murmurs. “However, love can also provide clarity.”

Mario simply nods, visibly moved by Serena’s words. He buries his face into her frail hands for a moment. “I should have protected you better.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” I interject solemnly, surprised at my own words.

Serena traces Mario’s face with her free hand. “We were both victims, my love,” she says softly.

The scene is surreal—the hardened criminal kneeling at the feet of this fragile woman he once loved, his face etched with regret and sorrow.

Mario lifts his head from her hands and looks deep into Serena’s eyes. A flicker of hope laces his gaze. “Perhaps it’s not too late for us,” he murmurs.

Serena shakes her head slowly, her eyes radiating a gentle sadness. “We are both so old now, my love. We have lived our lives, however painful they may have been.”

Mario’s expression shifts into a grimace. He glances at me, his eyes pleading for something. Understanding? Forgiveness? Absolution? All things I’m not sure I can provide.

“We have a lot to discuss,” I say. “A lot to discuss, Father .”

“She can’t know,” Mario says once we’ve left Serena in Renée’s capable hands and retired to my home office. “She can’t know what I’ve become.”

I take a deep breath, sitting down behind my desk and gesturing for him to do the same. He does so reluctantly, looking out the window at the sun setting in the distance.

“She must know something,” I reply, keeping my voice steady. “She isn’t stupid. She’s survived this long.”

Mario closes his eyes, leaning back into the chair and rubbing his temples. “I wouldn’t have wished this life on her.” His voice is raw, stripped of any pretense. “She deserved better than me.”

“But she chose you,” I remind him.

He opens his eyes to look at me, his expression unreadable. “Just as I chose her.”

Silence again. I watch him. What thoughts are swirling through his head?

“I didn’t choose this life,” he finally says. “I fell into it because of circumstances beyond my control.”

I raise an eyebrow at him, not entirely convinced. “Bullshit. I only exist because you raped your own daughter before her wedding. To assure the continuation of your line. You’ve made millions off drugs, and now you’re set to move toward human trafficking in alliance with the McAllister family.”

“That deal probably won’t happen since you welched on marrying Belinda,” he says.

“Do you think I care? It won’t matter because I have a plan, Mario. A plan that lets you and Serena live out your golden years in peace…while I bring this fucking madness to an end.”

His eyes bore into mine, the flicker of desperation replaced with a hardened resolve. He leans forward and rests his hands on the desk. “And what if it costs you everything? What if it costs you Raven?”

I swallow hard at the mention of her name, my heart pounding. “I’m aware of the risks.” I manage to keep my voice steady and my tone firm. “But I won’t let anyone else suffer. Not like Serena had to.”

Mario is silent for a moment. Then he slowly nods, perhaps seeing something in my determination that he respects or understands.

“You’re more like me than you realize,” he finally says.

I’m not sure whether it’s a compliment or an insult.

“There’s one difference between us.” I lean back in my chair and cross my arms. “I won’t allow my love for Raven to be her downfall.”

Mario nods. “Then it’s time you learned the truth about her father.”

“I’m way ahead of you,” I tell him. “I know Bellamy isn’t the saint he’s cracked up to be. But he won’t harm his children. Especially not Raven.”

“You are aware, aren’t you, that he was instrumental in his son serving time?”

“I’ve come to that conclusion, yes. I just don’t know why.”

“It’s a long story. One only he can tell you in its entirety.”

“I’ve been pushing.”

“Push harder.”

“I will,” I respond firmly. But my thoughts are whirling. How deep does Bellamy’s treachery go? And why does it involve his own flesh and blood?

“I have much to make amends for,” Mario says, dragging me back. “Starting with you.”

“You can’t undo the past,” I say, my voice colder than I intend it to be.

“No, but I can attempt to rectify some of its consequences.” He meets my gaze squarely. “I understand if you hate me for what I’ve done.”

“Hate is a strong word, Mario,” I reply evenly, swallowing back my emotions. “It’s also a wasteful one. I’d rather spend my energy ensuring that the cycle ends with me.”