Chapter 18 #3
Seth squeezes my hands, shaking his head forcefully. “No. My issue is that I don’t have an issue.” His face scrunches up in the most adorable expression of bewilderment I’ve ever seen. “Does that make sense? That doesn’t sound like it makes sense.”
“It makes sense, and I can understand why that could cause issues. Would it be easier for you if you knew more or less about what I do?”
He doesn’t have to think about it for long, and the determined look on his face has warmth flooding my chest. “More. I don’t want details, but I think not knowing anything will make me spiral.”
“I’ll have to speak to Vincent, but if he gives the go-ahead, I can tell you whatever you want to know.
” I’m already formulating what I can say to get Vincent to agree to this.
It’s a long shot, but even if he says no, I’ll still tell Seth as much as I can about what I do.
He deserves nothing less. Will I tell him the particulars about when and where we do our business?
Probably not, but that’s more to protect him in case anything goes down with authorities.
“Okay, so, what about family? Do you have any siblings? I’m an only child.”
I give him a smile. I’m honestly surprised my cheeks haven’t started cramping from how often I smile when I’m around Seth. I’m starting to not recognize myself with how much lighter I feel since he came into my life.
“Well, my older brother is Giovani. He’s only two years older than I am, and he is Vincent’s right hand.
He will be the one to take over when Vincent steps down.
Dominic is my younger brother. He’s got a good head on his shoulders for business, so he’s taken over handling a lot of the legit businesses we own.
He takes serious to a whole other level. ”
“More serious than you?” Seth asks, eyeing his empty soup bowl like he’s expecting the soup to reappear. I catch Meryl’s eye and motion for a second helping, narrowing my eyes at Seth when he tries to squeak out a protest. If my boy wants more food, then I will get him more food.
“Yes, Dom is far more serious than me. As for our youngest sibling…Well, Nikki is –” I cut myself off as Meryl plops down two bowls of soup. I raise an eyebrow at him, and he gives me a bland look, daring me to turn down the second bowl for myself.
“Thank you,” Seth exclaims, slurping a spoonful before he even stops talking.
I nod to Meryl, and he grunts an acknowledgment before shuffling back to the counter.
I’ll send one of the guys over later in the week to do some cleaning and maintenance on the place.
Meryl might be an old fucker, but he’s been a surprising asset for us in the years since I stumbled in here.
I take a spoonful of soup, savoring the rich taste. “Nikki is Nikki. I’d say he’s flamboyant, but not in the way you might think. He’s. . . an experience.”
I’ve always struggled with how to describe Nikki.
He has always marched to his own drum, and for him, that means dressing extremely feminine.
And when I say feminine, I mean, I haven’t seen my youngest brother in any sort of masculine clothing since he was a pre-teen.
He’s all about the designer dresses and flowing blouses.
I once asked him if he might be trans, and the answer he gave me was so full of derision that I never asked again. Needless to say, my little brother loves women’s clothing, and if they make him happy, who am I to judge?
Even so, I think Seth and Nikki would actually get along rather well. They have very similar energy, and even my wolf agrees that the two of them are enough alike that they would be good friends.
Which is a terrifying thought.
I finish my second bowl of gumbo, watching Seth as he pushes the last of his soup around his bowl. “Your family does a lot of…illegal things. I get that, and I know that isn’t exactly a ‘good’ thing.”
He does air quotations when he says good, but he doesn’t look at me.
I can practically hear the steam escaping his ears from all his thinking, and I want to reach across the small distance and rub the spot between his eyebrows that are all bunched up.
But I wait, allowing him to work through whatever he needs to work through.
I can understand his hesitancy in wanting to have a relationship with me, but I won’t push him or coerce him. He has to decide on his own; otherwise there will always be that doubt, the questioning if he actually made the choice or if I manipulated him into it.
“And you’re the only one of your brothers that is a shifter?”
“Yes. Though they do have their own abilities. My family isn’t considered fully ‘human’ by the government’s standard. We have too much magic in our bloodline. Even if their abilities are more passive.”
“Oh, so like my grandma.” I raise an eyebrow at him. I was unaware his grandmother had any sort of magical abilities. But it’s not unheard of for families with passive abilities not to be registered.
The US is one of only a handful of countries that protect non-humans’ rights to live, but also has registrations available for a lot of the more human-looking supernatural creatures.
While it’s purely voluntary, it’s controversial because of the fear that it can be used to track down all the non-humans if the government ever decides to no longer allow us to live here.
However, it’s better than in some countries that either actively hunt non-humans or, like in Russia, allow non-humans to live in the country, but keep them segregated and highly restricted in what they can do.
“Your nonna has magic?”
Seth nods, a sad smile on his lips. “Yeah, her magic was in her cooking. She used to have this little herb garden, and she would always know exactly what to make if you weren’t feeling well.
Thought it was just, like, herbalism or something, until my mom sat me down and explained it.
My grandma can heal through her cooking, as can my mom to some degree. ”
“What about you? Do you have that ability?”
He shrugs, his eyes falling back to the table. I can practically feel the roiling emotions rolling off him, especially the shame, and that just isn’t acceptable. I gently grip his chin, pulling his head up until he’s facing me again.
“Why are you ashamed?”
He huffs out a shaky breath, but eventually his gaze lifts to meet mine.
“It’s more regret. I had the chance to learn from my grandma, but I was never interested.
Especially after my dad died. She passed not long after him, so all we have are some of the recipes she managed to write down and what little my mom remembers learning. ”
“Well, if it’s something you want to pursue, there’s Blackstar Academy. At the very least, you would get confirmation on whether you have magic.”
Seth bites his lip, indecision warring on his face, before he hums. “I’ll think about it,” he finally says.
I want to ask more, but I don’t push. I can’t expect him to immediately tell me everything, just like I don’t want to be pushed to talk about parts of my past. Eventually, once we trust each other more, we will get to those difficult topics, but I’m content to learn whatever bit of information he wants to give me.
The shrill sound of my phone cuts through our relaxed silence, and I pull it from my pocket with a scowl. Vincent’s name stares up at me from the screen, and I let out a groan. I swear my father knows the most inopportune times to talk to me.
“I have to take this. I’ll be right outside.”
“That’s fine. I have to use the restroom anyway.” Seth laughs.
I catch Meryl’s eye and lift my phone, gesturing to the door before heading out. With a sigh, I answer the call. “Boss?”
“Frankie,” my father’s smooth voice fills my ear as I lean against the wall. “I gave the letters to Gio. He says there’s a chance he can decode them.”
There’s something in his voice that catches my attention.
While I understand why he would give the encryption to Gio–he’s brilliant when it comes to puzzles and figuring things out—something seems off.
He’s not saying something, and while my father is known to keep his cards close to his chest, this seems different.
“What aren’t you telling me?” It’s a risk to demand more information from Vincent when he doesn’t want to give it, but I need to know what he’s doing.
“Are you still associating with the kid?”
I glance over my shoulder at the closed door of the eatery. “Yeah, it’s…progressed,” I finally volunteer.
There’s a beat of silence on the other end of the line. “You told him?” A simple question that has the potential to blow up in my face.
“I told him enough.”
Vincent gives a non-committal noise with that statement. “And you think that was safe? You have known this boy for only weeks, figlio. You are risking everything for a fling.”
My wolf bares its teeth at his dismissive attitude, and I have to take a deep breath to keep from cursing my father. Losing my temper will get me nothing except some form of disciplinary action.
“Seth isn’t a fling. He’s mine, in every way that matters.”
“Figlio…” Vincent sighs, and I let my own growl of frustration fall from my lips.
“No. He is mine. My mate, padre.” I suck in a breath, going as silent as Vincent at the realization of what I just called him.
I’ve never verbally acknowledged our connection, especially not directly to Vincent.
My heart beats wildly in my chest, and I can feel my wolf brushing its side against me as if offering support.
While Vincent acknowledged me immediately, he has always respected my request to keep our relationship private. This decision has worked in both our favor, but I’ve always known it wasn’t what he wanted.
Yes, he’s powerful, but he’s also a proud family man. Not being able to publicly acknowledge me has been a major point of tension between us. For me to verbally call him ‘father’ while also revealing the truth of my relationship with Seth seems. . . profound.