Chapter Twelve #3
“No, it wouldn’t.” Giulia shakes her head. “He’s here because I invited him, and that’s that.”
The group seems to accept her side of things, and they collectively relax.
“Sorry, Elio. I meant no harm.” Pasquale winces.
“It’s okay. You don’t know me yet.” I’m relieved Giulia was able to get through to them. I had no idea what a great ally she would be.
“Who wants another round?” Giulia asks brightly and everyone raises their hands.
The group has just settled back into its easy rhythm, laughing and joking around, when a shadow falls across the table and everyone looks up.
“Salvatore,” Costanza says cheerfully. “I haven’t seen you around lately. It’s been ages.”
I glance up to see an older, handsome, silver-haired man beside us.
I know him, but it takes me a second to place where from.
Then I recall I met him at the wedding. I met a lot of people at the wedding and most of them I don’t remember.
But his warm brown eyes and refined bone structure stuck with me.
“You’re right. It’s been far too long.” His smile is friendly as he greets the group. He’s in a soft linen jacket the color of sand, and he moves confidently, the smile never fading from his deeply tanned face.
“Sit, Salvatore,” Costanza says.
When his gaze meets mine, his smile widens. “Elio, good to see you again. You probably don’t remember me.” He grimaces. “You met so many people at the wedding. I’m Salvatore, an old family friend of Marcello’s father.”
“I remember you.” I return his smile. “But you’re one of the few. The day is a blur.”
“Of course it is. Everyone else gets to enjoy a wedding except the bride and groom. They’re in survival mode, just trying to make it to the wedding night in one piece.” He winks, and lowers himself into the chair Costanza has cleared for him.
A server appears at his elbow without being summoned, making it clear he’s respected and a regular. He orders a small glass of red and waves off the menu. “I’ll splurge and have one drink with you beautiful people and then leave you. Old men should know when they’re not wanted.”
“You’re always wanted, Sal,” Pasquale says. “You have the best stories.”
Salvatore chuckles. “My stories are all lies. The truth is too boring.” He turns to me, settling in, and there’s something so unhurried and grandfatherly about him that I feel myself relax. “How’s married life, young man? Marcello treating you right?”
I smile. “So far so good.”
“Marcello must be behaving very well.” Costanza smiles slyly. “Elio described him as gentle.”
Heat fills my cheeks. “You’re taking that out of context.”
Pasquale points at me, grinning. “I don’t know about that. You volunteered that word.”
“Oh, goodness.” Salvatore shakes his head.
“Don’t pick on the boy. I would hope Marcello treats him carefully.
He finally found the omega he wanted to settle down with.
None of us believed it would ever happen.
Carlo is a confirmed bachelor, and I thought even he would take an omega before Marcello. ”
Everyone laughs and I’m grateful he’s distracted them.
Salvatore launches into a funny story about how his driver almost got a ticket on the way over, and everyone listens attentively. It’s obvious they adore him and he seems to eat up the attention. Even I’m charmed by him as he laughs gleefully at his own story.
I remember the day of the wedding, Marcello had warned me about the older alphas.
He’d said they were all backstabbers and putting on a performance.
But as I listen to Salvatore tell his amusing story, I can’t help but question Marcello’s opinion of this man.
Especially knowing what I know about Marcello now.
Marcello has lived within the confines of the syndicate his whole life.
Perhaps that life has warped him until he’s begun to see enemies everywhere, even when they don’t really exist. That poor cripple in his study hadn’t seemed very threatening, and yet Marcello had bullied and abused him, accusing him of some sort of betrayal.
He warned me about Salvatore, and yet this middle-aged man before me certainly doesn’t come across as a vicious backstabber.
Perhaps Marcello has become too jaded to even see the good in people anymore.
At the end of his story, Salvatore chats with the others a bit more, and eventually turns to me. “Are you keeping busy? I heard somewhere you used to tend bar? I assume you’re no longer doing that?”
I grimace. “No. Marcello doesn’t want me to do that sort of work anymore.”
“I can hear your frustration.” Salvatore sounds empathetic. “Being Marcello’s omega, you’re bound to lose some of your freedom. But your safety is important, and precautions must be taken. There are those who would love to hurt Marcello by hurting you.”
“Yes.”
He sighs. “This world must be very frightening for you.”
“It’s definitely been an adjustment,” I murmur.
He pats my arm. “I’m sure it has been. Hopefully Marcello is guiding you through it all. It’s the alpha’s job to comfort and protect his omega. He does that for you, yes?”
“He’s been… very supportive.” It’s not a lie. Since Marcello claimed me, he has been attentive and helpful.
I’m the one struggling at the moment. If anyone isn’t being attentive, it’s me.
I’m having trouble reconciling that the gentle alpha I’ve shared my innermost feelings with is the same one who abuses and kills people.
I don’t understand how those two sides can live inside the same man.
Yes, to look at him, he looks like a thug.
A gorgeous thug, but a thug all the same.
However, the tender side he’s shown me is at odds with that version of him.
I’m not sure which one is the real Marcello.
“I know it’s all very stressful, but there’s something to look forward to, yes?” Salvatore smiles, eyeing the bite mark on my throat. “Perhaps soon you’ll have a little one to keep you busy.”
“Perhaps.” I laugh awkwardly. I realize it’s expected I’ll give Marcello an heir, but I hate how everyone is so nosey about my sex life. Just because I’m Marcello’s omega, does that really mean I’m not allowed any privacy?
“But nothing yet?” Salvatore asks softly.
My face warms. “If you’re asking if I’m pregnant, I’m not sure. I haven’t had any symptoms, but I haven’t taken any pregnancy tests either.”
He smiles sheepishly, but there’s a twinkle in his eye. “It’ll happen very soon, I’m sure. Marcello seems very taken with you, and that’s the magic sauce, as they say.”
I give a self-conscious laugh. “It’s so odd to have people caring about when I’ll get pregnant.”
He chuckles and gives my leg a fatherly pat. “I’m sorry. I’ve embarrassed you. Forgive this prying old alpha. I just want Marcello happy. He’s suffered so much and I know an heir would bring him great joy.”
“Hopefully we’ll soon have good news,” I say politely.
His eyes warm. “You’re good for him. We’ve all noticed how much happier he is. I credit his marriage to you for that.”
“That’s kind of you to say.” I can’t help but be flattered by his words, but there’s also guilt.
I care about Marcello. Yet, it seems wrong to care about a man who can be so brutal.
That’s what causes the turmoil inside of me.
Part of me wants to ignore his bad side and only enjoy the good. But is that realistic?
“It’s not right for an alpha to be alone, so I’m glad he’s found you,” Salvatore says. “His life hasn’t always gone how he wanted. He never wanted to be the don, did you know that?”
“Yes, he told me.”
“Did he?” He lifts his brows, surprise glittering in his eyes. “So he feels very close to you then. That’s good. That’s very good.” He clears his throat. “Keep his heart safe, Elio. He’s had too much pain. Now it’s time for his life to become nothing but joy.”
“I’ll do my best.” Again, guilt eats at me because I’ve been avoiding Marcello. I know he’s noticed. I know I’ve hurt and confused him.
“That’s a good boy. He’s lucky to have you.” He drains the last of his wine and sets the glass down. He pushes himself up out of the chair with a grunt. “And now that I’ve had my one drink, it’s best if I go.”
“Aww, must you leave already?” Giulia says, frowning.
“Yes, my dear. If I have more than one drink, I get too sentimental. Nobody needs a sad old man telling his sad old stories.” Salvatore chuckles and meets my gaze.
“Elio, it was a pleasure seeing you again. Hopefully we can have another drink next time you’re here.
I am always somewhere on this veranda, boring somebody half to death with tales of my youth. Let’s talk again soon.”
“I’d like that,” I say, and I mean it.
He says his goodbyes to the others, and then he ambles off down the veranda the way he came. He stops twice to greet people who brighten at the sight of him.
“Salvatore’s a sweetheart,” Costanza says, watching him go. “Old guard and one of the last true gentlemen. They don’t make them like that anymore.”
“He’s lovely,” I agree, and I reach for the fresh drink that’s appeared at my elbow. Talking with Salvatore has made me want to see Marcello even more. But even if I wanted to talk to him tonight, I can’t. He’s in Italy on business.
Maybe that’s a good thing. It forces me to keep my distance, and gives me time to reflect more on my confused emotions.
****
Twelve days later, I sit alone in a surgical waiting room, paralyzed with fear for my brother. The day I’ve both prayed for and dreaded is finally here.
Fabio went into the operating room forty minutes ago. They came for him at 6:00 a.m., two nurses and an orderly with a gurney. I walked beside him down the hall holding his chilled hand.
He was scared but he tried so hard not to show it. He attempted to hide his fear by joking about the ugly hospital gown, about the showercap they made him wear. But I know my little brother. I recognized the anxiety in his eyes and in his laugh.