Chapter 33
Romeo
I’m sitting in the kitchen with the Mancini clan—Dante, Arabella, Alexander, Chloe, and her parents—and even though I’ve always been part of the Famiglia, in this moment, I feel like I’m actually part of this family now. The other side of my best friend’s life that I’m not usually privy to.
Not the kind that’s bound by blood spilled and oaths.
The flesh and blood kind. The messy, loud, fiercely loyal kind.
The sort that argues over stupid shit and fights over the last slice of cake.
The kind that doesn’t care where you’ve been or what you’ve done, just whether or not you’re staying for dinner.
It’s different.
It’s something I’ve never known.
And it didn’t go unnoticed when Lucia referred to her niece as ours, either. She’s currently nursing Caterina, completely wrapped up in that tiny human. The way she looks at her, soft and full of wonder, it’s clear she’s completely besotted.
She commandeered her the second we walked in the door, much to Dante’s annoyance, and hasn’t released her since.
When she told me earlier that she didn’t really want kids of her own, I was surprised by how gutted that made me feel.
Is it possible I could want to go there with her?
I think maybe it is.
I know she’d be a great mother. I only have to look at the way she takes care of me to know that.
She always looked after me at the safe house, but that care has ramped up since I got out of the hospital. She’s even spoon-feeding me, for fuck’s sake. And I’m unashamedly lapping it up.
I tear my gaze away from her when I see Dante rise in my peripheral vision. He’s been normal with me since I arrived, and probably taking things easy on me while I’m recovering, but I know something is coming. I’d be a fool to believe otherwise.
His eyes lock with mine as he crosses the room and gives me a slight tilt of his head, signalling for me to follow.
My eyes dart back to Lucia as I use the edge of the table to stand, and the smile she was giving her niece has now morphed into a look that could best be described as concern.
I give her a wink, letting her know all is okay, even though there’s a slow churn building in my gut.
I’m quietly confident he’s not going to whack me with everyone present, but I’ve never liked the unknown. Not when my whole life has been one long stretch of it.
We step out onto the back patio overlooking the pool area. “Wanna beer?” Dante asks, moving towards the bar fridge in his outdoor kitchen.
“I’m on pain meds, but I guess one won’t hurt.”
“Wise choice, you’re probably going to need it after you hear what I have to say.”
I wince as I take a seat. It has less to do with the pain shooting up my side and more to do with what he just said.
“I’ve been waiting for this,” I admit, taking the beer out of his extended hand.
“For what?”
“My punishment.”
“Is that what you think this is?”
I lift one shoulder. “Why else would you lure me out here?”
He frowns as he takes the seat across from me. “I lured you here,” he replies with a clipped tone, “because I figured you wouldn’t want an audience for what I’m about to tell you.”
I crack the top off my beer and take a long pull, letting the silence stretch a little. “What is it you’ve got to tell me that made you think that?”
“It’s about your mother.”
I hesitate for a moment because I think I know what’s coming, and as much as she deserves whatever is heading her way, the thought of it actually happening makes me feel sick to my stomach.
“What about her?” I ask hesitantly.
“I sent a few of our guys around to pay her a visit.”
“I figured as much. But you can spare me the details. I know she betrayed the Famiglia, betrayed me, and Lucia. And I mean no disrespect to you or the Cosa Nostra when I say this, but I’d rather not know the ins and outs of what went down.”
“It’s not what you think.”
I arch an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“The men didn’t touch her; she was already gone when they got there.”
“Gone? As in, did a runner?” Because I find that hard to believe. She has nowhere else to go.
“No, gone, gone, as in dead.”
My bottle pauses halfway to my mouth. “How?”
“An overdose. They found an empty bottle of pills lying beside her.”
I place my beer down on the small table beside me and stand so abruptly that my head spins from the pain it induces.
“She killed herself?” I mumble under my breath as my hands rise to clutch either side of my head.
“It appears so.”
I move towards the balcony and stare off into the distance as my mind races. The last conversation I had with her begins playing out in my head, like the reality of what I just heard wasn’t enough to fuck me over.
“I’m not perfect, but I did the best I could.”
“Enough. I’m sick of your lies … I’m sick to fucking death of you and your bullshit. It all stops right now. I want nothing more to do with you.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I should’ve cut you loose years ago. Like Lucia said, you’re a waste of fucking air.
You just condemned the only woman I’ve ever loved.
If they so much as touch her, if one fucking hair on her head is out of place when I find her, I’m coming for you.
And when I do, you’ll wish you left me to rot in that hospital the day I was born. ”
And now she’s gone.
I told her I wanted nothing more to do with her, and she believed me. I told her Lucia was the only woman I’d ever loved, but that wasn’t true. In my own fucked-up kind of way, I loved her too.
A part of me always loved her, even when I couldn’t stand her.
Maybe I didn’t pull the trigger, but I sure as hell gave her the bullets.
“Fuck,” I grunt, bending to place my hands on my knees as I struggle to get air in my lungs.
Her overdosing has been one of my greatest fears since I was a kid. Deep down, I always knew it was a possibility, and some part of me expected it would happen eventually. But I never anticipated playing a hand in it.
That my words would be the last ones she carried with her.
That I’d be part of the reason she finally gave up.
And now it’s too late to take any of it back.
I flinch when I feel a hand on my back. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry, mate.”
I let the breath rush out of my lungs and push myself up to full height, trying to pull it together.
I don’t like showing anyone my weaknesses.
Not even my best friend.
“I’m not sure what you want done with her body, but I had it transferred to the morgue … you know, in case you wanted to bury her or some shit.”
I turn my head and meet his eyes. “You did?”
I’m surprised she didn’t end up in a shallow grave or worse. That’s the usual modus operandi when the mob disposes of a body.
He lifts one shoulder. “For all her faults, she was still your mother. I just wanted the decision to be yours. If you don’t care what happens to her, I’ll take—”
“I’ll take care of it,” I say, cutting him off.
As soon as we finish dinner, we leave. Lucia didn’t argue. I think she could tell something was off. I tried to act normal, but my brain wouldn’t shut down. All I could think about was my mother lying somewhere on a slab of cold steel.
A part of me feels relieved. She’s finally at peace. I don’t have to worry anymore about where she is, what she’s doing, or whether she’s alive. But what’s fucking me up the most is the last words I said to her.
Maybe she deserved them. Maybe she didn’t. Either way, the guilt is clawing at my insides. It’s this slow, suffocating burn I can’t shake, like something inside me is rotting.
“What’s going on?” Lucia asks the moment we slip into the back seat of the limousine. “Did Dante say something to upset you? Did he threaten you in any way? Because if he did—”
I reach for her hand and clutch it in mine. She’s like a fiery little bulldog, and I love how protective she is of me.
“My mum overdosed,” I tell her as I lean my head back against the seat. “She didn’t survive this one.”
She bows her head. “Oh.”
I turn my face towards her. “Oh. That’s all you’ve got to say?”
She winces, then says quietly, “I’m sorry for your loss, Romeo.”
It’s the kind of thing people say when someone dies. The right words. But something about the way she says them so calmly, so steady, like it’s no surprise, makes my chest tighten.
“You knew, didn’t you?”
She winces again as she squeezes my hand. “Dante mentioned it when he took me to the safe house. He wanted to wait until you were feeling better before he told you.”
I nod, release her hand, and turn my face forward, because I don’t know what else to do. I’m worried that if I say something, it may be misinterpreted. I can’t even tell if I’m more pissed that they kept it from me or grateful they did.
Maybe both.
I think what irks me the most is that I was stupid enough to believe that, as my wife, her loyalty would be with me. Dante may be her brother-in-law … the Don, but I am her husband. Am I already setting my expectations for this marriage too high?
The silence between us stretches to a point of awkwardness before Lucia finally says, “I would’ve told you myself, but to be honest, I forgot.”
My eyes narrow as my gaze snaps back to her. “You found out yesterday that my mother overdosed and died, and you forgot?”
“Forgot, maybe isn’t the right word. I had a lot going on.
Thinking I’d lost you, then finding out you survived.
Packing up the safe house and moving myself into your place.
Your mother may not have been my favourite person in the world, but I’m not completely cold-hearted. I know she meant something to you.”
She reaches for my hand, lacing her fingers through mine. And even with everything I’m feeling—confused, hurt, and angry—I don’t pull away. I welcome her touch.
“I could lie and blame it on my head injury, but I’m not going to do that.
I don’t want this marriage to be one with secrets, Romeo,” she says softly, twisting her body in her seat to face me.
“I want you to know you’re my number one person.
I’ll always have your back. Your needs and your wants come before anyone else’s … even my own.”
Why her words feel like music to my soul, I can’t say, but I let them in. And for now, that’s enough. If we are going to give this marriage a red-hot crack, then I want that too. I want our foundation to be strong.
“I’m going to get the driver to drop you back at the house.”
“Why? Where are you going?”
“To the morgue … to see my mum.”
Dante gave me the address of where her body is being stored, and it’s important that I go and see her. I have a feeling I’ll regret it if I don’t, and I have enough regrets where that woman is concerned.
“I’ll come with you,” she says.
“I’m going alone, Lucia.”
She lets go of my hand, flops back in her seat with all the dramatic flair she’s known for, and crosses her arms over her chest. “I’m coming,” she growls.
I roll my lips as I turn my head to gaze out the window. Her fucking sass gets me every time.
“You’re not,” I retort, poking the bear, because I’m eager to see her reaction, and she doesn’t disappoint.
“Oh, I am. You are not an ‘I’ anymore, Romeo De Luca, you are an ‘us’. I’m not letting you face this alone. I’m going to be there for you whether you like it or not.”
She lets out a little huff at the end, like her words are final, and since my gaze is still turned away from her, this time I don’t hide my smile.