Chapter 19
brUNO
“What do you think of this?” Mary stands before me in a sleek purple dress with lace sleeves and more piping detail around her bodice than I’ve ever seen on a piece of clothing before.
“Pretty.”
“Do you mean that?” She pouts slightly and twirls. “I need to look amazing!”
“Why, it’s not your wedding.”
“Bruno!”
I look back in time to narrowly avoid the cushion launched in my direction. “Hey! I’m hungover, be gentle!” I definitely drank too freely after leaving Saoirse last night. Alcohol can’t replace the warmth she gives me but it helps.
“And whose fault is that?” Her eyes narrow to a glare. “I thought you’d want to help me with my dress.”
“I do,” I say, pushing the ache behind my eyes away to the back of my mind. “I do. And I know you had to wait until Dad was out of here before inviting me over so I appreciate that.”
“Well, I don’t see why,” Mary mutters. “Rocky invited you to the wedding so you’re going to cross paths with him regardless.”
“Did you ever find out why?” I ask casually, standing and moving around Mary to fully admire her dress.
“I asked him to.”
“What?”
“I asked Rocky to invite you and he said yes. It was barely a discussion really. I think he saw how happy I was to have you back and Rocky’s a good guy. He takes family very seriously these days.”
“Wow.” Maybe he’s not the self-centered little dick I used to know all those years ago. “He’s not worried I’ll sour the tone of the place.”
“Please,” Mary scoffs. “You’ll probably be the most angelic guest there. So tell me, does this dress make me look good? And I mean really good. I want to make every bitch on social media jealous.”
“Aren’t they already?”
“Yeah but…” She turns to face me and her shoulders droop. “Ever since I was taken, everyone looks and talks to me with pity and I hate it. I want to be known as a bad bitch again.”
It’s surreal to hear that from my sister who, in my eyes, is still an eight-year-old terror.
“Yes, the dress makes you look like a bad bitch.”
“Amazing! Take a picture?” She passes me her phone and moves a few steps away to pose.
“It’s weird seeing you pose like that,” I say as I slide the screen to camera.
“Why, scared that your sister looks beautiful?” With one hand on her hip, she fluffs her hair and pouts.’
“Yup. Means I gotta beat up a lotta boys to keep them away.”
“Bruno!” She gapes at me and I snap a couple of pictures, laughing. “You should put these on your socials.”
“Fuck you, you asshole! Take a proper picture!”
“Alright, alright. Pose again.”
She does, but I don’t take the picture. My finger hovers over the button but before I can press it, my father walks in.
The air immediately feels thinner and Mary’s smile wavers as she shoots me a nervous look. “Dad! I thought you were out at the wedding venue today.”
“Sarah’s decided she’s handling it,” Domenico replies as he approaches Mary. He clasps her shoulder and presses a brief kiss to her cheek. “So I thought we could get dinner.”
My heart’s racing painfully fast as he doesn’t even look my way. He doesn’t even care that Mary is clearly in the middle of something with me. He’s here now and that’s all that matters. My gut tightens when Mary glances at me, uncertain and her phone suddenly feels heavy in my hands.
“Hi dad,” I say.
No response.
“Dad,” Mary says quietly. “Aren’t you going to say hi to Bruno?”
For the first time since the Gala, he glances at me for half a second with eyes that hold nothing but contempt.
I suddenly feel like I’m eighteen again ready to do everything and anything just for some sort of response for him.
That deep, primal urge for approval from my father rises up like a sickness and it doesn’t matter how much I survived in prison, or how strong I built myself up.
In his shadow, I’m just a kid wondering why his father holds no love for him.
“Bruno.” He says my name like it tastes foul in his mouth.
Mary’s face hardens. “I don’t want dinner. Bruno is here helping me and you should join us.”
“No,” Domenico says immediately. “I don’t have time to wait around for your silly games.”
“They’re not games,” she snaps. “I’m trying on dresses and Bruno is helping me pick the best one. Your opinion would be great as well, by the way.”
“This dress looks beautiful, but anything looks beautiful on you Mary,” he says, his smile returning. “You don’t need to worry about anything else.”
“It might not make sense to you, but you’ve never been a woman in your early twenties that people still look at like you’re a child because some psychopath tried to kill you!”
An uneasy silence falls and then, to my surprise, Domenico nods. “You’re right,” he says. “Take your time. Choose your dress. Then we will go to dinner.”
Mary’s face lights up. “Together?”
“Just us.”
That light snuffs out immediately.
I watch it all while rooted to the spot, racking my brains for anything to say but nothing comes. All the times I rehearsed what I would say the next time we were face to face were useless. My mind is blank.
“Probably wise,” I say, flashing Mary a smile. “Having all the Del Prete’s in one place would hardly quell the rumors.”
My father’s shoulders subtly freeze as Mary peers at me with a frown. “What rumors?”
“Don’t worry, just some dark rumblings. You know how suspicious the underworld gets.
One name and anything goes.” My mouth is running away with itself as nervous energy pours through me like lava.
I don’t know why I’m taunting him with such information as if there’s any chance it will get a reaction out of him.
He’d likely just have me killed.
“Mary, why don’t you hurry along and try on the next dress?”
Her eyes dart between us. “This is the last one.”
“Well I haven’t seen the others.”
“Yes you have. Last week.”
“Well I’ve forgotten, so can you please?” He sweeps his arm toward the door where one of his guards suddenly steps through and offers their arm to Mary.
“Fine,” she sighs. “But I want Bruno to stay so if he’s gone when I get back then I’m going to be very cross.”
“Of course dear.”
The silence remains as Mary leaves the room and then Domenico turns to face me. His expression is impassive but his eyes are as sharp as I remember. He looks me up and down, causing a wave of prickling heat to flush down my arms and legs.
“You’re talking like you know something I should know,” he says, moving around the couch to the small drinks table in the corner. “Care to share?”
That’s the most he’s spoken to me since I got out of prison and I almost can’t bear it.
Yearning surges up inside me and I know I shouldn’t care.
I know he only wants to talk to me because I know something but at least he’s talking to me.
If this is the opportunity I need to show him that my loyalty lies with him and prison has changed nothing, then I’m taking it.
“I’ve heard a lot,” I say, fighting to keep my voice steady. “But if you’re interested, then something tells me you’ve also been hearing a few things.”
“On the grape vine.” Domenico calmly pours two glasses of Scotch.
My stomach flips at the scent and the ache behind my eyes grows but I ignore it as Domenico hands me one glass. Hangover be damned if I’m sharing a drink with my Dad.
“Tell me,” he says. “Unless you’re about to share a childish tale like the old days in which case I have much more important things to be getting on with.”
“No,” I say quickly. “Nothing like that. In fact I—” Hesitation pulls at my words. Saoirse and I promised to keep this quiet. Is it really wise for me to bring my father in so early when all we still have are rumors?
“You…?” Domenico prompts, sipping his drink.
“I know how important the family name is. I know everything you’ve done over the years to build it up to a name that sends most shaking in their boots just hearing it.”
“Stop blowing smoke up my ass and get to the point.”
“Our name— your name. I heard it while I was in prison.”
“Hardly a surprise given who you are.”
“Yes, but by then my surname wasn’t important. I heard it from the Triad.”
He pauses and his eyes flick to me. “Tell me.”
“They were talking about you, or at least someone using your name. Talking about how they were doing business with you but I knew that wasn’t true.
The pots the Triad get into are pots you would never touch.
I tried to tell you at the Gala but you…
” I clear my throat and drink. “You were preoccupied.”
“Yes,” Domenico says and he briefly touches my arm as he moves toward the couch. “It was a busy night.”
“I know,” I say as my heart soars at the brief contact.
“But it gets worse. Our name isn’t passed around like something to scare people.
They talk like they’ve been dealing with you so as soon as I got out, I’ve been looking into it and you won’t believe what I’ve found.
” It rushes out of me now like a child excitedly sharing their day of school.
“I did some really deep digging and I found a circle of assholes neck deep in human trafficking but all of them claim to be working with you. I haven’t met any of them but the thread is there. ”
“What?” He barely sits before he’s back on his feet with rage burning in his eyes. It’s like a switch has flipped and the calm man has dissolved. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Don’t worry!” I hold up one hand as a nervous smile twitches across my lips. “I know it’s bullshit but Dad, someone out there is using your name to move a lot of shit. Drugs, people, and weapons.”
For the first time in my life, my father looks stunned. Almost as if I could knock him over with a feather.
“Bruno, I—”
“I know,” I cut in quickly. “I know how important this family is and how loyal you are to Rocky. When I got out of prison and learned what happened with Noah, and to Mary, it made sense why someone would leap at using the name of an important Italian to make a mark in the underworld. Whoever is impersonating you knows exactly how to play their cards right.”
“Hm. Yes.” Domenico’s attention drops to his glass. “It seems we have a traitor in our midst yet again.” His grip tightens around his glass until his knuckles turn white then he turns away. “I will deal with this.”
No.
No, he’s closing me out.
He can’t take this from me!
I’m the one working hard, I’m the one who will get to the bottom of this! If he takes over then what chance do I have to prove that I’ve grown into a son he can love and be proud of, and not just a stain that went to jail for him?
“Dad—”
“Forget it, Bruno. It’s no longer your concern.”
“But I’m not the only one who knows!”
Domenico freezes and turns back to me. “What do you mean?”
“The Irish,” I gasp without thinking. “They’ve been helping me and they know everything. Together, we’ve been trying to get to the bottom of this for both our families’ sake.”
“Who?” he barks suddenly. “Who exactly knows?”
“Uh…” I hesitate and then her name slips from my lips. “Saoirse. Saoirse Gifford.”