Marcello
I don't know what it is about this woman that distracts the hell out of me and makes me lose all track of time, but once again, she manages just fine.
When Luciano texts me that they're on their way up, I haven't even told Violet that her family is coming, nor have I eased my way into talking to her about her father. Fuck.
Quickly, I finish what I was doing, making an espresso for me and a cappuccino for her, then fill her in. "Luciano is on his way up with your family," I say, since I'm out of time to ease her into it.
She nearly chokes on the cappuccino. Funny, I never realized before that she was accident-prone. Gently, I clap her on the back, "Better?"
"Yeah, did you say my family is on the way up?"
"Yes."
"Why?" Her hazel eyes are wide in bewilderment.
"I wanted to talk to you about this before, but…" I raise my hands, "We ran out of time. Do you trust me?"
My beautiful Violet nods decisively, "With my life."
"Good, you might be tested on that in a few."
"I don't understand, what—"
She doesn't get to finish as the door opens after a short knock, and Luciano ushers Violet's family inside. Unsurprisingly, she jumps up to hug them. Luciano's eyes meet mine over the excitement. Anything I need to know, mine ask.
Nothing serious, his answer.
"Come," Violet rushes to my side and pulls me forward. "Marcello, meet my mom, Linda."
Her mom looks just like an older version of the picture I saw.
Her hair isn't blonde anymore, but brown; the color is not washed out, so it's recently dyed.
Interesting. Her eyes are blue, very different from Violet's, and a quick glimpse at her brother and sister tells me they share their mother's eyes.
"Nice to meet you," I say, staying civil for now, even though I want to shake this woman in front of me and ask her a hundred questions. I do, however, understand that is not the way to greet my future mother-in-law.
"Mom, this is Marcello," Violet beams.
Linda looks sourly at me. "I know who he is. I thought you ended this nonsense."
"Mom." Violet glares at her and pulls Elaine forward. "My sister, Elaine."
"Pleasure," I shake her hand.
She looks at me more curious than hostile. Her handshake is strong, just like her husband's, who is next, holding a baby in his arms.
"My brother-in-law, Lee, and my nephew, Mark." Violet's face turns tender when she takes in the baby. She holds out her arms, moving her fingers rapidly in an adorable, gimme, gimme way. Indulgently, Lee passes Mark to her. "And this is my brother, Sebastian."
We shake hands and nod, but I'm fucking distracted by the baby in Violet's arms. I've seen her soft before—usually when she's talking to that spoiled cat—but this is different.
Deeper. The way she looks down at that sleeping face, like the whole world just narrowed to one tiny heartbeat in her arms, does something to me.
Something dangerous.
A new emotion—richer, heavier—floods my chest. Possession, yes. But more than that. Hunger.
I want that. With her.
I want to see her belly round with my child. I want to feel her fall asleep beside me, our baby between us, safe and soft and loved. I want sons who'll carry my name and daughters with her fire in their eyes.
And I want to be the one who gives her all of it.
The thought isn't some passing fantasy—it's a need. A claim. A vow.
"Can we now please know why we are here?" Linda demands, bringing me back to reality.
"Please, have a seat." I ignore her request. She needs to understand right fucking now that I'm the one in charge here, and no matter that she is Violet's mother, I will do anything to keep her daughter safe, even if it means pissing her off.
I wait until everyone is settled, Luciano hands out coffee and water, and Violet takes the seat next to me, clasping my hand. Felix chooses this moment to make his grand entrance.
"What is he doing here?" Linda turns to Violet. "Why is he here?"
"Because this is where Violet lives, as my fiancée," I tell her before Violet has a chance.
A sharp intake of breath from Linda is meant as a warning, before she falls into her litany of accusations: "Is this why we are here? Why we had to leave our houses? Because my daughter is engaged to you, and that's brought danger to our front steps?"
A tremor moves through Violet. I can tell that she is all too ready to take on the guilt of that accusation. And that sends tremors of rage through me.
"No, that danger has always been lurking, hasn't it, Linda?" I lean forward, my gaze searing into hers. Her eyes widen. Her mouth opens and closes, ready to say something, but I can also see the wheels turning inside her head. What does he know? How much does he know?
I nod at her, everything.
Violet's hand in mine clutches at me; without looking, I know she's staring at me too, filled with questions.
But it's Sebastian who breaks the silence. "You can't talk to my mother like that."
Linda can't hide her satisfaction at her youngest coming to her defense, which is when I see it. See the real family dynamics.
The picture Violet painted of her mother is a far cry from the woman sitting across from me now.
This one is controlling, calculating, and obsessed with power, just like Margarita.
She wields it differently, though. Not with threats or blood, but with guilt, manipulation, and that quiet kind of dominance that seeps under your skin before you realize you're bleeding.
"What are you saying?" Lee asks, shrewder than I would have expected after what Violet told me about him. Interesting.
"Do you want me to fill in the blanks, or do you?" I offer Linda the choice.
She glares at me. "If he found us, all our blood is on your hands," she finally says.
"Maybe, or maybe it was only a matter of time before he did." I acknowledge. "Either way, I am the only one who can protect you now, so I think you should give me a really good reason to want to."
"Marcello," Violet cries out, looking alarmed. I squeeze her hand, trust me. She seems to get my unspoken message, but her hand is turning clammy. I move my thumb across her flesh to assure her I'm here and won't ever let her go.
I cock my head, expectantly waiting for Linda to make up her mind. "I didn't have a choice," she decides to be the one to turn her children's lives upside down. I don't interrupt her, only watch the master manipulator at work, weaving a tale I'm sure she's had ready for years.
"He would have killed us," she starts.
Violet stiffens so abruptly that the baby stirs. "He? Who? Our father?"
"What?" Elaine wakes from the stupor she's been in since they arrived, possibly since Luciano got her out of her house.
"Yes, your father," Linda continues, her eyes welling up with tears. "He told me he worked for the casino as security. I swear I didn't know that he was involved with the mob. I didn't. When I found out he was an enforcer, I… I had to get you kids out of there."
"You said Dad was dead," Elaine looks confused, and Violet is leaning forward, eating up every breadcrumb her mother throws at her.
"What would you have me have told you, Elaine? That your father was a hired killer for the mafia, and we had to flee in the middle of the night? That wasn't a burden I could put on you children."
Perfectly timed, her voice breaks. Tears sparkle in her lashes, and she spins her tale like a virtuoso playing a violin—so smooth, so heartbreaking, you don't realize the strings are strangling you.
I watch her with the cold detachment of a surgeon preparing for a cut.
Every word out of her mouth is poison coated in sugar.
And her kids are drinking it up like it's holy water.
Violet is clutching my hand tightly now, but I can feel the hesitation in her pulse—the need to believe in the mother she's always adored.
Linda is counting on that. She's played this role for so long, she probably believes it herself. The brave mother. The selfless martyr. The poor widow who gave up everything to protect her children from the monsters.
But what if she is the monster?
"I knew he'd kill me if I tried to leave," Linda goes on with a practiced tremble. "So I took what I could, including the cash he kept hidden in the safe. And I ran. I had no one, nothing. I did everything to keep you all safe."
Bullshit.
I had Luciano look into her bank accounts—yes, accounts with an s at the end—eleven million dollars in total. Money, I would bet my last dime on, she stole from her husband to fund her life of secrecy, not sacrifice.
"What choice did I have?" She whispers.
You had a choice, lady. You chose to disappear your kids and frame their father. And now you're sitting here, playing the part of the wounded dove, all while sharpening your claws beneath my table.
She's good, I'll give her that. Her kids sit like stunned birds, caught between reality and myth. I let the silence linger just a second too long.
"I'm sorry," Violet breathes. She turns to her mother, her voice cracking. "I just… I wish you had told us."
Of course she does. That's Linda's real gift—making people apologize for not understanding her lies fast enough.
I don't know the whole story yet. I don't know why she left, but it wasn't because she suddenly found out what her husband did for a living.
Worked for the casino, my ass. None of the regular casino workers own mansions or have cash accessible in the millions for their wives to take off with. She knew.