Chapter 14
nothing left but erosion
MARCO
The Deluca family mausoleum at the funeral home in Staten Island was more inviting than the crypt I’d just come from.
Entering that house was like using cold steel as a blanket come winter.
Listening to the stony silence was like taking an icy blade to the earlobe.
But the deepest cuts that had been made came from the razor-sharp frost of Santo’s mouth.
Frustrated, I gripped the back of my head.
With each step I took toward the wet bar, I thought about how I felt like the embodiment of an inferno.
Anything that came out of my mouth was only going to be like a rush of liquid hellfire.
“Son of a bitch.” My intention had been to reach for the scotch glass to pour myself a goddamn drink, but screw intentions.
Instead, I picked up the glass and hurled it toward the fireplace.
The shattering glass sounded like a cascade of violent chaos, and a surge of adrenaline consumed me in a satisfying way.
Brooklyn stood still in the corner of my eye. She didn’t flinch or jump or move a muscle. Her expression didn’t change. It was both unsettling and comforting. Two completely different things she somehow made me feel at the same time.
Clearing her throat, she finally moved to close the gap between us, her hand going toward a pristine bottle of VSOP Cognac, fingering it as she went. “Your father doesn’t think much of me, that’s for sure.”
“Of course not.” A hint of genuine laughter for the ridiculousness of the scenario dragged out of me.
“You’re marrying the pawn. If you wanted more respect, you should’ve requested to choose your husband from my brothers.
” Shaking my head, I didn’t look up from what I was doing.
Instead, I continued to pull the cork out of the bottle of Strega.
I itched for the bitter finish to scrape the back of my throat.
“May I recommend Massimo or Rocco? My father seems to have a fondness for them. Naturally, neither of them are Vito, who is as good as it gets, as far as Santo is concerned. You know, now that I’m thinking about it, maybe even Lorenzo would’ve been better.
He doesn’t necessarily like staying in one place for too long of a time, but he could take you places, travel—”
“Marco.”
Sympathy shredded through her voice, and I couldn’t handle something like that worming its way into my house.
“Do you want a drink?” I asked, both in an attempt to be polite and in desperation for her to stop looking at me with the corners of her lips tilted downward.
“What am I saying? You probably do, but you can’t have one.
That seems to be the natural trajectory of the day, though.
None of us are supposed to get what we want.
Well, some are, but not us.” I threw back the drink, clenching my teeth and squinting my eyes as nothing more than an empty glass was before me.
“Marco.”
There was less sympathy and more warning in that one. It looked like we were getting somewhere.
She placed her hand over mine, and heat swirled in my gut.
Forcing myself to glance over at her, I wasn’t met with a warm smile or amusement in her eyes.
She appeared stoic, ready for battle, if need be.
Like she was ready to fight my battle. With me.
For me. This woman was made of grit, that was for sure.
I didn’t see an ounce of real care for what Santo thought of her.
When she spoke about how he saw her, it seemed to have been an observation more than anything else.
No wonder my pulse spiked as her lips parted and she stared at me, her eyes emblazoned with a fire burning within.
She went against everything I imagined to be true, like the fact that Santo could intimidate everyone.
But, apparently, not everyone. Because not her. She was the exception.
Pulling away before I involuntarily did something idiotic, such as lower my gaze to her lips, I pulled my hand to my hair.
I let out a hearty chuckle, leaving the wet bar and heading to the kitchen.
Brooklyn couldn’t have alcohol, but that didn’t mean she shouldn’t have anything.
This was one hell of a night, and she probably could’ve used something, like tea.
Not that I could have imagined she would want it when there were so many other options.
Although they were more limited for her, at the moment.
“And what was that bullshit about Vegas?” I asked, the clamoring of her heels behind me, making it feel like there was a right hook wrapped around my heart.
“This whole family schtick is getting a little tiring. I mean, come on, he’s not fooling anyone.
This wasn’t his idea, and he certainly doesn’t want everyone to go since he’s going because he’s being courted to invest in a deal. ”
This was a strategic business trip for him and nothing else.
It definitely wasn’t a family vacation even if he wanted to spin it that way.
My father planned on closing a deal with EJ, and by going in person, he could see what he was getting himself into while single-handedly asserting his influence over another human being.
“Your mother was clearly the one behind it, and he seems to want to make her happy,” she said by way of rationalization.
Trying to calm the annoyance inside me, I gripped the edges of the quartzite kitchen counter. “Ironic since he enjoys making the rest of us unhappy.”
“What’s the deal anyway?” she asked curiously.
“Vito has this friend who is trying to buy a resort and casino. Thinks Santo will bring some cash to the table so he can get the deal done. Actually, I think you know the mastermind.”
“Oh, yeah? Who is it?”
“EJ Gray.”
She nodded her understanding, but didn’t say anything more.
Then her hands came down on my shoulders as she rolled her thumbs over them, methodically, carefully, before swiftly saying, “I don’t care if your father sees me as a pawn in his twisted mind.
” It came out as more of a confession to herself than me.
Turning around, I cleared my throat. “I don’t.”
“Care?” Her cool expression morphed into one of confusion, her eyebrows drawing together and forming an arch.
“See you as a pawn,” I clarified, my eyes searching hers.
“What do you see me as?”
That question was a loaded one because there was no correct answer. Only my answer, the one I didn’t need to give much thought to.
The pulse in her neck jumped wildly.
I raised my hand to it, wrapping my fingers around her throat and feeling as she swallowed intensely.
Her expression fell, her cheeks pinking.
“A fucking queen,” I finally answered, running my thumb over her pulse, finding the reaction she had to me soothing.
Her chest rose and collapsed. “You don’t have to—”
Dropping my hand, I knocked my knuckles on the counter as I walked around and made my way to the tea kettle.
“You have the ability to dominate the entire board. You don’t want to strike too soon, not because you can’t handle it yourself, but because it would be a waste of moves.
You’d merely be capturing the little guys, who think they could take you on, but they can’t. No one can. Not even the king.”
“I know it’s not ideal,” she spat out at warp speed, like the words had been on the tip of her tongue the entire time.
Silence wrapped around us as I kept myself occupied, starting the water.
The truth was, she was right, but I wasn’t entirely sure what was consuming her thoughts, so I intended on keeping quiet. Being forced to marry someone was never ideal, but it seemed like there was more to her statement. Like there was more weighing on her than simply our impending nuptials.
When enough quiet quilted the room to make a person feel downright hot during winter, she explained, “Me having another man’s baby.”
She said it like we were together.
Like she did this to me.
But she didn’t.
Because, ultimately, we were nothing to one another.
At least, nothing more than what we had been told to be.
Wasn’t that why we were here? In this very spot? In this very position?
I turned around, knowing I couldn’t do anything to make the water boil any faster.
Unlike the hold I had on our marriage situation.
The way I saw it, I was totally in control, fully intending on steering this ship the way I saw fit.
And maybe it wouldn’t have been the worst thing to go to Vegas.
I’d be right there, in the middle of the action.
“It’s your choice and your choice alone.
It doesn’t matter to me whose child you’re carrying.
I’m the future husband. That’s all. We knew what we were doing when we agreed to this arranged marriage. ”
She blinked, and sometimes, the fire that emblazoned in her eyes simmered into something cold, almost lifeless. “True, but you didn’t know this, and I still—”
“Don’t give it any thought. Santo doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” My blunt honesty clashed with the apology she was attempting to offer.
Smoothing a hand over her top, she rolled her eyes. “It’s not like I would ever tell anyone it’s Robert’s. Outside of our families, I don’t think anyone needs to know.” Discreetly fingering the necklace on her neck, she was clearly still thinking about what my father had said.
I understood the power of his words, but she certainly shouldn’t have let them weigh on her.
Truth be told, my ire stemmed more from his insistence on having a hand in everything, using everyone to do his bidding, and instilling fear in them to guarantee none of his precious rules were broken.
“I’m not my father.” It was a bold statement, but one I was confident in making.