Chapter 45
Chapter Forty-Five
That Was Not On My Bingo Card
Chiara
When we arrive at Joey’s, we’re swiftly ushered to a private booth, and dish after dish of my favorite foods—the meals I told him my mother used to make and I miss so much—are brought to our table.
“You remembered.” I murmur, emotion clogging my throat.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, taking a sip of his scotch, eyes twinkling over the lip of the glass. “I just know that my wife was a total fucking badass, and taking down ex-fiancées is heavy work.”
“Someone’s gotta do it,” I say, giving him a soft smile.
He leans over. “It was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” he says, pressing a kiss to my lips. “Thank you, Chiara.”
There’s sincerity and something so much deeper swirling in his rich, dark-brown eyes. The chill I once saw there is now thawed. I wonder if he knows that even when he tried to push me away, he always felt like sunshine to me.
He reaches over and covers my hand with his, gently tracing my veins with his thumb. “Tell me about them,” he says softly.
I close my eyes and let good memories play like a home movie behind the shine of tears.
“They were each other’s first loves. My mom, Liliana, was eighteen, and my dad, Lorenzo—but Mom called him Renzo—was nineteen.
My mom’s family owned a little espresso bar, and Mom worked there before and after college daily, and then on the weekends and during college vacations.
She used to tell me the story of how, the first time she made his espresso, he cracked this really cheesy joke.
He said, ‘And where have you bean all my life’? ” I giggle at the recollection.
“Is that the espresso bar Marco’s dad was…”
I nod my head and he stops. “It happened about a year after my mom met my dad. Dad kept a picture of them together in our kitchen and one in his wallet. They were identical, so when I was a small child, I kept asking where my second dad was.” I chuckle and Raf joins in.
“I think I was around twelve or thirteen when they told me the truth.” I wipe at the tear that’s escaped.
“The kids in high school were calling me the Mafia Princess and saying my dad was a bad man. Some told me they weren’t allowed to hang out with me anymore.
I was devastated. I didn’t understand what it all meant, so I asked them. ” I pause.
“You can stop if it’s too painful to go on, angel,” Raf says, giving my hand a squeeze.
I shake my head. Even if it hurts, I want him to look into the stained glass window of my life. To understand how all the fragments fit together. To show him that I might be broken, but I crave the light of my memories as the antidote to the darkness of loss and grief.
“They told me the truth. My dad’s family was a powerful player in Sicily.
He and his brothers were born into the life.
They controlled certain businesses and maintained order in a way that may have been outside of the law sometimes.
They explained that it was sometimes dangerous because other families wanted to steal their power, and that’s how my dad’s twin lost his life.
After that, I started to notice little things, like different friends of Dad’s coming around for meetings.
Dad always having to go to work as soon as Uncle Gino called and said something was urgent.
The way he worked at odd hours of the night and other times had to be away for a week or more.
Mom hated him not being there, but she put up with it.
The light would be missing from her eyes, and everything felt heavy in our house.
It was around this time I started begging my dad to find a new job.
I didn’t fully understand that he couldn’t just up and leave.
So it was this rollercoaster of up and down, because when he was home it was like the lows of him being gone had never happened.
Mom would tease Dad about his bad jokes or bad singing, and he would chase her around the kitchen until he caught her, kissing her.
” I smile. “They were so playful. They laughed a lot together, and I would often find them dancing in the kitchen while she was cooking. She loved to cook,” I say, waving my hand at the dishes in front of us.
“She was also really creative. She finished her fine arts degree, but I came along before she had time to do anything with it. She was forever encouraging me to draw, paint, take photos. Express myself. I wanted to be just like her.” Tears slide down my face, but Raf doesn’t rush at me; he just continues to stroke my skin, letting me know he’s there.
“The years before they were taken were probably some of the darkest. Dad was away a lot. Mom was sad all the time. I realize now it must have been depression. One time before my dad left again for work, my parents sat me down and told me that if they ever sent me three texts in a row with the word NOW, it was my sign to get home immediately. It meant we had to leave with no time to spare. I didn’t think it would happen.
I just assumed they were being paranoid.
I was eighteen with the freedom to drink, party, and socialize.
I hated the silence of my house when Dad was gone.
I felt like I had no one even though they were both still here.
I had one close friend, Mia. I met her at college enrollment.
We looked so alike that people often mistook us for sisters.
I knew her mom was out of the picture, but it was clear the Rizzo family protected her.
I once heard a rumor that she was Domenic Rizzo’s love child, but I never got the chance to ask her.
She was a little wild and lived on the edge of danger.
Being in her company was intoxicating. I shed any inhibitions, felt like I could truly be free.
We made lots of plans in the two years we were inseparable.
We were meant to come to New York together, you know,” I tell him.
“Anyway, I digress. She knew lots of different people in the underground party scene, and we started to catch the attention of boys and men. I loved their eyes on me, the feeling of being wanted. Knowing that, with one look or one touch, I could own them. I didn’t overthink anything.
If I wanted pleasure, I took it. If I wanted to drink, I did.
If I wanted a line to truly feel like I was flying, I didn’t think twice.
” I look away. That version of me is part of my story, but it’s a hard one to look back at now.
“Hey, hey. There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Raf says, like he can read my thoughts. “We all have pasts.”
I nod and keep going. I have to get this out.
“She introduced me to Alessandro. He was older. Good looking. Well-dressed and well-connected. We hit it off, and he became my everything. It was an all-consuming relationship. At first, sneaking around was easy, because I had mastered lying to my parents about my whereabouts. But they eventually found out I was seeing an older man, and my dad and I fought about it a lot. I rebelled and went against his wishes to end the relationship.”
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. When I open them, I stare directly into Raf’s face so he can see what a monster I am. What this mistake cost me.
“Then, one day while I was off fucking Alessandro, the three texts came, just like we agreed followed by call after call. But I didn’t hear them.
I didn’t know they were trying to reach me until AJ finally managed to track me down.
His second-in-charge, Rocco, put me in the car.
We travelled back to Uncle Gino’s house in silence, and when we got there, my whole world descended into darkness.
My parents were gone. Soon after, I discovered Alessandro was gone.
Mia was also gone. She was my best friend, but also the closest thing I’d had to a sister, and she vanished.
My mom left me a letter she had written, and it was like she had a premonition this would happen.
She told me never to stop chasing my dreams. To find someone who loves me so much he would die for me.
” I shrug my shoulders like it’s no big deal, like I haven’t just bared my soul. “So here I am.”
Raf clears his throat and gives me a wry smile.
“You’re so fucking brave. I’m sorry you felt so alone that there was no one around to protect you,” he says before moving dishes aside and leaning all the way over the table, grabbing my face and brushing the wetness from my cheekbones. “I’m here now.”
“Don’t you dare think about dying for me,” I add, mostly for dark comedic relief because the notion is not as outlandish as it should be.
He doesn’t even hesitate. “For you, I would in a heartbeat.”
He kisses me softly and my heart cracks, because I know I would do the same for him.
“Let’s eat. You’re going to need your energy,” he says with a wink.
To most, it would be unsettling to switch from such lows to highs—but as this man has shown me time and again, he’s built to carry me, baggage and all.