Chapter 58 VIOLET
"Are you alright?" I ask Marcello the moment he enters the bedroom, looking tired as hell.
His eyes find me, and a smile lights up his face. "Now I am, tesoro."
I pet the place on the bed right next to me in invitation, but he shakes his head, "I need to take a shower first. I don't want the stink of my work to sully you."
"Get your ass over here, mobster boss," I order, petting the bed harder.
With a sigh, he finally follows my invitation. I'm still a bit woozy at times. Otherwise, I would have gotten out of bed and given him a hug, but now at least I can take his hand in mine. "What happened?"
He runs his free hand through his hair. "Donna Margarita won't bother us again, but her legacy might."
I knew it would bother him, killing a woman, but when he tells me her sordid tale, I can honestly look him in the eyes and say, "She deserved everything that came to her."
I get that she might have been afraid of her husband finding out she was pregnant, but giving up her son was her decision.
She could have left. I'm not saying it would have been easy, I didn't know her dead husband, but there are always other ways to get out of a bad situation.
I might be jaded from what my mom did and not in a very forgiving mood, but I don't feel one bit sorry for Margarita.
She was vindictive and cold. Just like your mom, a voice whispers, and I tell it to shut the fuck up.
This isn't about me. This is about Marcello.
"I know; it was still hard," he says, looking haunted.
"Don't let her ghost touch you." My other hand moves up to cup his face, grounding him. "It doesn't matter that she was a woman. She played a man's game. She dealt in blood, betrayal, and ambition. And she lost. That's not on you, Marcello. That's on her."
His jaw tightens beneath my fingers, but he doesn't look away.
"You're not a hypocrite. You're human. And the only reason you feel anything right now is because you still have a soul." I pause and harden my voice. "She didn't."
He leans his face into my hand, kissing my palm. "I don't know what I did to deserve you, but I'm sure as hell never going to fuck it up. I love you."
Hearing those words from his lips still gives me pleasure beyond words. "I love you, too."
"What do you think about getting married in Vegas?" He abruptly changes the subject.
"What?" It takes me a moment to connect the dots. "So you and my father… bonded?"
He grunts, not admitting anything. "I think he would like that. But if you'd rather—"
I don't let him finish. "I don't care where we get married, Marcello, as long as I get to be your wife."
"Wife." He looks like he's tasting the word on his lips. "I like the sound of that."
"Vegas, hmm?" I kind of like the idea. I've never been a gambling person—I never had the money for it—but I am addicted to some of those casino games on my phone.
More than that, though, the thought of seeing where I would have grown up had my mother not interfered intrigues me. "I think I like that idea."
"Good, I'll tell him to make the necessary arrangements." Something about Marcello's smirk tips me off.
"You're not using our wedding as an excuse to get my father out of New York, are you?"
He makes a zipping motion over his mouth. "Pleading the fifth," he says with a grin.
I slap his shoulder. "Marcello Orsi."
He laughs and makes his escape into the bathroom.
I lean back in the bed against the pillows and close my eyes for a moment, listening to the rushing sound of water in the other room. Undiluted happiness fills me. Absentmindedly, I twirl the ring on my finger, thinking about all the changes in my life over the past few months.
Felix jumps up and snuggles next to me. As long as he gets fed—Zia Rosa is spoiling him like there is no tomorrow—he seems to enjoy me lying in bed, being at his beck and call.
Kind of like Marcello, I grin. No, that's not true.
I know Marcello wants me to get better. I keep pushing the little cloud hovering at the edges of my happiness to the side, but for some reason, it's more stubborn today.
Fine. Marcello isn't the only one fighting ghosts.
Having been shot at and almost killed is not a walk in the park.
Recuperating from a gunshot wound isn't either.
But like in my dream, I walked down into that basement, and I'm here to stay.
The thing is: I wasn't killed. I'm here.
And so is Marcello. I've made my choice of wanting to be with him, and I'm in.
All. The. Way. So that little cloud of depression that keeps trying to get into my headspace better watch out, because I'm going to open the blinds on the basement windows and let the sun in.
I'm just about to win my little battle, when a woman's voice startles me. Felix lifts his head curiously. Sophia stands by the bedroom door, gently tapping her knuckles against the open frame. "Hey there," a tentative smile curves her lips.
"Sophia," I wave her over enthusiastically. "What a surprise."
"Marcello mentioned he got engaged to you." Sophia steps next to the bed, and I pat the side to invite her to sit.
"We did," I beam, holding up the ring.
"Good. I'm glad he finally found someone. You were really nice to me at the hospital." Hidden deep in her eyes is still a woman haunted by dark phantoms. Instinctively, I take her hand.
"We don't really know each other, but I like the idea of having another sister. I hope we can be that. And I want you to know that I'm here for you."
Her smile broadens. "Me too. I wasn't in a good place when I was visiting Marcello at the hospital."
"But you are now?" I ask, prying deeper than I should.
"I'm a lot better now." Her smile turns genuine.
Overcome with emotions, I lean forward to hug her. We are basically strangers, even though she is Marcello's sister, and I probably know more about her than she does about me, but just like with her brother, I feel a connection to her.
"I don't want to hurt you." Sophia returns my embrace awkwardly.
"You won't," I encourage her. That's all she needs. She hugs me tightly, just like Elaine used to do. It feels good and right.
"So, want to be one of my bridesmaids?" I ask when we pull apart.
"Just tell me when." She grins. "I know the place for a wedding dress, too."
"Deal." I smile right back at her.
"Hey, sis," Marcello enters the bedroom butt naked.
Sophia's head whips around at the sound of her brother's voice. "Oh my God. Use a towel, you perv," Sophia exclaims, her head flipping back to me, her hands coming up to shield her eyes.
I giggle.
"It's my bedroom," Marcello counters, unperturbed, marching into his closet.
"That's one sight that'll be burned into my eyes for years," Sophia complains good-naturedly.
"I have the number of a good therapist," I offer.
She giggles. Something tells me she hasn't done that very often in the past few years, and the sound warms my heart.
Marcello returns, in sweats and a shirt, to give his sister a hug. He told me she came to the meeting, but there hadn't been any time for anything other than her assuring him that she was fine.
"Is he here too?" Marcello wants to know after a long hug.
She shakes her head. "No, we wanted you to see that I'm free to come and go as I please."
We. The word echoes in my head—her and Raffael. There is a story there, and I won't lie and deny that I'm dying to hear it.
"Are you going to fill us in?" Marcello prompts.
"It's still pretty… raw," Sophia blanches. "But I want you to know that I'm safe and loved. Raffael has loved me for a long time, but he could never tell anyone. He saved me… twice," her crystal-clear gray-green eyes water. "I'll tell you. I promise, just not… today."
She sniffs, and Marcello nods. His hands ball into fists.
It's not hard to read his mind. I'm glad his anger at Raffael now has more to do with stealing the satisfaction of killing Roberto than with the fact that he kidnapped his sister.
But I also know he's worrying about what Margarita told him about Raffael, who he is. I'm glad he's not mentioning it now.
"Sophia agreed to be one of my bridesmaids," I change the subject, realizing Sophia is on the verge of breaking down.
Marcello seems to sense it too and hugs her to his chest. "Good. It'll be in Vegas, I'll let you know."
She nods and pulls out her phone. "Here's my number, for both of you. I'm not a prisoner," she gives a little nervous laugh, "anymore. So call me anytime, I would love to have lunch with either or both of you."
Felix decides it's time for him to get some attention and stretches on the bed where he's been lying, mostly hidden by my blanket.
"Oh, you have a kitty," Sophia exclaims.
"It's Violet's," Marcello clarifies.
Sophia ignores him. "Can I pet him?"
"He loves pets," I say with a nod, and Felix walks right up to her.
Sophia is tentative at first, worried she'll scare him off, so I encourage her, "He's more like a dog, you won't scare him."
Seconds later, Felix shoves his head into Sophia's hand, demanding ear and nose rubs before plopping on his back, spreading his legs for a belly rub. Sophia giggles, and a sound of distaste leaves Marcello's throat, but, fascinated, he watches his sister giving Felix belly rubs.
"I never knew cats did that. I always thought they were afraid of strangers." Sophia observes.
"Not this one; this one likes to shred strangers," Marcello interjects with a wicked smirk, remembering how Alejandro looked after one round with Felix. He almost fools me into believing he's proud of Felix.
"He was tiny when I got him. I had to bottle feed him," I explain. "Ever since, he's been more like a dog than a cat."
"Oh, how do I get one like this?" Felix licks and nips gently at Sophia's hand.
"Don't worry, I'll find you one." Marcello's expression turns devilish, probably relishing some ideas of payback for Raffael.