10. Nine
Nine
Fabrizio
F amily—the cornerstone of all that truly matters; that’s the mantra I’ve heard my entire life. In our family, this principle is intertwined with our business, a legacy so deeply rooted it feels like destiny.
However, the way family was valued in my life has always been different from that of conventional families.
While Sundays for everyone else were a time to cherish moments together,—when kids would play games and enjoy the warm embrace of their families—our Sundays were indistinguishable from any other weekday, and our father was usually absent from home.
This was until my father decided we were old enough to be initiated into the family business. From then on, Sundays were subsumed into the relentless cycle of work that defined our existence. Each sibling, in turn, was absorbed into the empire my father had meticulously crafted, and the boundary between weekdays and weekends blurred until it disappeared entirely - it simply didn't matter.
My wife never demanded much from me, never asked me to change my ways or alter who I was.
However, when our children were born, I made a promise to her. I swore that our kids would not grow up feeling the absence of their father.
I made the same vow to myself and the children after Lexi's death—I would do everything to offer them a semblance of a normal childhood filled with the warmth that had been scarce in mine.
I resolved to spend as much time as possible with our twins, ensuring they felt loved and supported. Yet, instead of enjoying a leisurely Sunday morning with my kids, I find myself driving to an urgent meeting with my brothers.
It’s rarely a harbinger of good news when Marcello summons us on such short notice, maybe that’s why I already feel the air thickening with tension as I step into his house. Foregoing any formalities, I stride directly toward his office. Our younger brother, Romeo, is already there, his expression as grim as Marcello’s, though neither of them are known for their smiles or cheery personalities.
“What the hell happened at the school?” Marcello demands the moment I cross the threshold.
Fantastic. Of course, Dad has already spilled the beans.
“It’s quite obvious you already know,” I reply, my voice tinged with frustration.
“If I did, I wouldn’t be asking, would I?” Marcello retorts sharply.
Romeo, sensing the impending escalation, raises his hands to halt our brewing confrontation. “First things first… before you two start knocking heads, how are the twins?” he asks, his tone full of concern.
“They’re fine, don’t worry, everything’s fucking fine,” I reassure him.
“ Again , what the hell happened?” Marcello insists.
“There was an attempt to kidnap them,” I explain, my voice steady but grim.
“And?” Marcello’s impatience is now palpable, his voice sharper.
“Nothing. Nothing happened, since I arrived before it could, but I still need to find out who was behind it,” I say, frustration seeping through as I grapple with the unknowns.
“Someone just walked into the building, and what? Tried to take the twins with them?” Marcello inquires further. “How the fuck can something like that happen? They’re supposed to have staff looking after the children.”
“They do. Their teacher was with them,” I respond, keeping my answer as brief as possible.
“And what happened to the teacher?” he presses for more information.
I hadn’t planned on revealing that I took Sienna with me, so I simply shrug, hoping to deflect the question.
“Fabrizio,” my brother’s voice drops to a low, warning growl, “what the fuck happened to the teacher? You—we can’t afford any—”
“She is fine,” I retort quickly. “There won’t be any issues with the school. Seriously, she is nothing to worry about.”
“Because you’re saying she’s unharmed and safely tucked away at home?” Romeo inquires, his lips curling into a mischievous smirk.
“Exactly,” I reply sharply.
My little brother’s eyes lock onto mine. There’s a glint of amusement mixed with a knowing look in them. “Her home or yours?”
“Mine.”
“Oh, please don’t tell me you kidnapped the teacher,” Marcello exclaims, barely able to hold in his discontent.
I respond with another shrug, a nonverbal admission. “What was I supposed to do? Leave her there?” I counter, feeling a surge of defensiveness.
“What are you going to do with her?” Romeo asks, curiosity mingled with concern.
“For now, she’s staying with us. I took the twins out of school, and they need someone to look after them,” I explain.
Marcello raises an eyebrow at me, a smug smile playing on his lips. “A motherly figure,” he suggests.
“A teacher. A nanny,” I correct him, though his words hit closer to home than I care to admit. Marcello has been pushing me to find someone new, someone to heal my shattered heart and to care for Maddy and Flynn. I shake my head at him in exasperation, not wanting to dive into another discussion about my private life. Certainly not with these two—Romeo, who should have been named Casanova for his womanizing ways, and Marcello, who has never shown interest in a relationship. And even if he did, I doubt that any woman on this planet could put up with him.
“And you really trust her with them?” Marcello inquires, his voice dropping to a more serious tone.
“Why wouldn’t I?” I counter, though the question lingers like a shadow between us. I’ve got a pretty good sense of where his thoughts are headed.
“Because you believe in coincidence just as little as I do,” he states. “So I need to know if you can be certain that she’s nothing more than a bystander who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”“Not yet…” I admit, but my mind drifts to last night. I can’t help but think of the way Sienna cradled my daughter in her arms, soothing her after a nightmare. Like a mother would. The thought tugs at my heart, a heart I claim I don’t have—one that I closed off to everyone but my children after my wife’s death. She’s either an Oscar-worthy actress or innocent. “I have someone looking into her right now; if she’s got anything to do with the attack, she will be dealt with accordingly.”
“Good.” Marcello nods at me, his expression approving. “Because the safety of the kids might not be our only problem.”
“Where to now?” Oliver asks as soon as I slide into the car, his voice breaking the silence that had settled around me.
“Home,” I reply firmly, my mind already racing ahead. Home, to my children. And Sienna. Despite the nagging voice deep inside me insisting that my decision to sleep with her was absurd, my body tells a different tale. I couldn’t resist her allure, no matter how hard I tried. And truth be told, I am eagerly anticipating the next time I can have her. Over and over again.
The mere thought makes my mouth water, my body throb with eager anticipation. The primal act of being with her, driven by an almost desperate need to satisfy our mutual passion, has awakened a sense of vitality within me that I haven’t felt in years—three years, five months, and seventeen days, to be precise. But who’s counting?
Every single day, I think about Lexi and the life I lost, a life I never truly wanted in the first place. I had never considered finding a woman to share my life with, let alone starting a family. But then Lexi waltzed into my life; her bubbly personality was the perfect contrast to my brooding nature. She brought enough light into my dark world to soften my hardened heart. She was one of the few people who could effortlessly handle my every mood.
Once again my mind is flooded by memories, each one feeling like a vivid splash of life against the gray backdrop of my presence. I remember the warmth of her laughter, filling the house; the way she would dance around in the kitchen while crookedly singing her favorite songs and the quiet nights we would spend on the living room couch after putting the twins to bed.
The car comes to a halt in front of my house, but instead of getting out, Oliver pulls out his phone, his eyes fixed on the screen.
A smirk tugs at one corner of his mouth as he looks at me through the rearview mirror. “Good news, boss. Looks like you were right about the teacher.” We both exit the vehicle, and Oliver walks over to me, still glued to his phone. “As far as our guys could find out, she’s got a clean slate. Textbook girl next door. Born and raised in Atlanta. She completed her studies in record time and landed her first job right out of university. After three years in a state school, she was offered a position at St. Anne’s. She’s been living in the same tiny apartment for eight years, apparently living paycheck to paycheck. No large deposits since she started teaching the twins.”
“Friends? Family? Any connections that seem important?” I inquire, my curiosity piqued. “No. Her parents are dead. No siblings. She has a few friends, mostly fellow teachers she meets up with occasionally.” Oliver’s report is thorough, and I simply nod, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. I’m not ready to part ways with her, not in the least. And not in the way her involvement with an attack on my children would have made necessary.
“Good. While I am gone, I want you and Vance to stay with her and the kids. Add some additional security details around the perimeter.”
“I don’t think—”
“I don’t pay you to think; I pay you to do what I tell you. And I am telling you to stay here and protect that woman and my children. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.” With the discussion concluded, I head towards the house, Oliver trailing quietly behind me.
As I open the door, the sweet aroma of chocolate wafts into my nostrils, and I can hear the children’s laughter echoing through the house. Maddy’s high-pitched giggles and Flynn’s infectious laughter create a symphony of joy, a sound I sadly hear far too seldom. Passing through the living room, I notice dolls and toy cars scattered across the floor; the couch is a mess, with pillows and blankets strewn everywhere. It’s beautiful chaos. The house hasn’t looked this lively in a long time. Following the irresistible smell of baked chocolate, I make my way to the kitchen. For a moment, I allow myself to savor the scene before me. Maddy is running zigzag through the kitchen and dining area, her laughter ringing out as her brother chases her, his hand covered in what appears to be chocolate. Sienna watches the twins with a warm smile, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she scrubs the kitchen counter, which looks like a chocolate bomb has exploded upon it. This scene of domestic bliss, filled with laughter and warmth, stirs something deep within me. It is a stark contrast to the life I have known, and for a fleeting moment, I wonder if I could ever truly be a part of it.