by V Domino
“Yes, I’m fine.” I lift my free hand up and click the button, popping the bloody blade out. “I never go anywhere without my knife and I never hesitate to use it. Thank you, though. I got blondie down, but it wouldn’t have been for long and I'm scrappy as fuck, but I can’t fight two men at once.” Retracting the blade and tucking it into my jacket pocket, I tell him what the bastard said to me while trying to break my wrist.
“Don’t worry about them anymore. I have them tied up in the basement. I’ll question them and find out what they were thinking and who this 'someone' is that's looking for you. I’ll take care of it, okay? I promise,” he says, touching my chin. “I know you’ve been taking care of yourself for a long time now, but you don’t have to anymore. My family and I are rumored about and most of what you may hear is true, but I swear it on my oath that you can trust us.” He’s so sincere it has my chest tightening.
Marco nods. "Yes, you can trust us. I swear it as well, il coltello. Let me carry Carla, she lost her shoes and I don't want her getting a cut out here. Please?"
I smile at the way he called me cutter. I guess he saw me inside.
"Okay, but we need to get her to the hospital."
Marco lifts her easily. Damn, these boys are big fuckers. What do they put in their food? “Yes, I called for the car to be brought back here. I'll call Ma once we're in the car.”
“Where are you guys taking her?” I ask Gavriel as a black Range Rover stops at the alley’s entrance.
“To my parents’ home. My mother is a registered nurse, so we can take Carla there. I don’t think we’ll need to take her to the hospital unless Ma says so.” He opens the back door and looks me in the eyes. “After what happened here, I won’t feel comfortable without you by my side. Come with me?”
He poses it as a question, but it sounds more like a demand. Do I mind? No, no, I do not.
On the ride to his parents’ house, Gavriel drives with Marco in the passenger seat while I sit in the back with Carla’s head in my lap. I run my fingers through her hair and think about what could have happened to her if I hadn’t gone looking for her. Those sick pieces of shit would have raped her no doubt, possibly even killed her. That was close. Too fucking close. And what did that guy mean when he said they’d been waiting for me? Were they fans-turned-stalkers? That’s the only thing I can come up with. Carla didn’t mention guys coming to meet up with us at the club, so it can't be some Tinder creeps.
A ringing phone brings me out of my thoughts.
“Yeah,” Marco says into the phone. “Yes, we’re on the way now.” He glances at Gavriel then at me and says, “Yes, she’s coming too... uh-huh... okay yeah, I will. Ciao.”
"Ma?" Gavriel asks.
"Yeah, she says you need to give Sia a heads-up," Marco says, looking a little confused.
You and me both, Marco.
"Heads-up about what?" I very much dislike walking into unknown situations. It causes unnecessary anxiety for me.
Gavriel looks at me through the rearview mirror and the next words out of his mouth make all the air leave my lungs. “I wanted to tell you privately, but it seems I won’t get the chance. I had my mother look into your sealed documents. She’s friends with the governor's wife and called in a favor. When I called her earlier, she told me she found out who your parents were.”
Oh my God, he had his mother call in a favor to the governor's wife. He found out who my parents are. Just then his words register. Were he said. Past tense. As in, they’re dead.
With a cracking voice I say, “They’re dead.” It’s a statement and the way he looks away from me tells me I’m correct.
“My mother has more information than I do, but my parents were best friends with yours, bella. They thought you were dead too.” He stops talking when he hears my sob break through.
I hear one of the brothers softly curse, but I can’t stop the tears. I’m in shock, quietly sobbing in the back seat, cradling Carla’s head like she’s my lifeline. I feel like my chest just burst open and all my hopes are blown in the wind.
The universe just has to do me wrong once more, doesn't it! I fucking fought my whole damn life trying to survive and keep my head above the dark oppressive waters. I've been slapped around, knocked down, and kicked like a fucking dog. I've been abused and bullied for as far back as I can remember, but I held out.
I fucking held out, thinking my parents were out there somewhere and all I had to do was find them. I came here and demanded the universe give back what it took, but it didn't.
It motherfucking didn’t.
Rage and pain, two old companions I thought I ditched, come back; hand in hand.
We pull up to a mansion and I can’t even appreciate the structure because of the burning tears in my eyes. Gavriel puts the car in park and jumps out as Marco opens the back door and takes Carla in his arms.
"She'll be in safe hands, Sia. My mom will check her over and Gavriel will bring you to her." He doesn't wait for my reply, just heads for the front door where I see a woman standing.
My door opens and Gavriel immediately pulls me into his chest and holds me while he whispers sweet nothings in my ear as I grieve the parents I’ll never know.
Despite the pain this information has caused me I'm truly grateful that Gavriel went searching for me.
“Mia bella, I’m so sorry. I wish I could have given you better news,” he says, pressing soft kisses to each of my eyes. I’m sure I look terrible. I’ve been crying, so I know I'm blotchy and I've been wiping angrily at my eyes, so my makeup is probably smeared to hell.
I use the inside of my jacket to try and wipe my face, but Gavriel grabs some tissues from the center console and hands them to me. The way this man who has probably killed more than I can guess, can be so kind and sweet with me makes my anger melt.
Once I've cleaned my face as best as I can without water, I thank him and say, “I’d like to hear what else your mom knows if that’s okay? I’m ready to learn more about my history and find closure. At least now I know why I had the life I did." Still, I have so many questions now and his mother is the only one who can answer them.
“Of course, if you’re up for it.” he says while leading me inside. “My mother is practically bouncing with joy knowing her best friend’s daughter is here, alive.” That’s the second time he suggested that I was thought to be dead.
Instead of saying anything, I take his hand and walk into his parents' home. We pass under an arched foyer and between a double staircase. This place is huge. We pass through a large room that looks like a sitting room that’s been brought back from the past with all the antique furnishings and paintings. The fireplace looks unused as well. Once we're in a hallway I spot a powder room and stop because, fuck, I need to clean up a bit and have a moment to just breathe.
This is going to be a long and emotional conversation.
Walking out, I note that I’m alone in the hallway, but I can hear Gavriel’s deep voice coming from an open doorway. I can’t understand everything he’s saying, but as I get closer, I can hear a woman's voice saying, "She's going to be fine, Marco, don't stress over it anymore. She just needs sleep and water. She'll have a headache when she wakes up and maybe some nausea, but she'll be fine, figlio."
I hear Carla's voice next. "Thank you, Mrs. Renzetti."
"Non era niente, ragazza. It was nothing. Just get some rest, hmm?" Mrs. Renzetti replies.
Pulling my shoulders back, I enter the room. I see Marco sitting next to a drowsy Carla. She looks better just sleepy as hell. Any other day I would’ve paid more attention to how Marco is staring at her like she’s a bright star in his dark sky, but today my attention is drawn to the regal woman with green eyes standing next to Gavriel.
She’s a sight to behold with an air of dominance about her even though she's all feminine. She has beautiful black hair hanging straight and boldly cut at her chin, with a blush pink top tucked into a high waist pencil skirt and high heels. She looks no older than forty-five ye
ars old. When she sees me, she grabs Gavriel's arm with a gasp.
Covering her mouth, I hear her soft voice. “Mio Dio, my God, you look just like her.”
I walk closer and offer my hand saying, “Hello, Mrs. Renzetti, my name is Anastasia Romero, but everyone calls me Sia. Piacere di conoscerti, you have a beautiful home.” Rambling. I’m fucking rambling like a damn fool in front of this woman. I mentally slap myself and keep my mouth shut.
Taking my hand, she says, “Martina, please. Or call me Zia, that’s what you used to call me when you were a baby.” A few tears roll down her cheek when she suddenly pulls me into a fierce hug. I don’t mind it. I close my eyes and revel in the motherly love I feel radiating off her and hug with the same fierceness. Maybe it’s because she was my mother’s best friend or maybe it’s because, subconsciously I remember her. Either way, here in her arms I feel safe and complete.
When we separate, she continues holding my hand and leads me over to the small sitting area where Gavriel takes my jacket from me, revealing the Edgar Allan Poe quote that crosses my back from shoulder blade to shoulder blade. I feel his eyes read the words that speak to my inner-self.
I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity.
When he sits next to me he takes my hand and shocks the hell out of me saying, "Sleep, those little slices of death; oh how I loathe thee." Gavriel just became even more enticing to me. A man who isn't just looks but brains also is fan-fucking-tastic but add in the hobby of reading?
Again, yes, daddy!
His mother sits across from us and watches our exchange with a big smile but doesn’t comment on our obvious spark. Instead, she brings us back down to earth with her seriousness. “I’m sure my son has told you that I was very close to your mother, Liliana DeLuca. She was like a little sister to me. She was your age when she met the love of her life, your father, Frankie Romano. They met when she was singing for me at my twentieth birthday party here in this very house. They fell in love almost instantly. A fairytale story, really. He made her the happiest I’d ever seen her and that happiness never faded. They married right away, the fastest engagement I'd ever seen, and soon after she had your brother, Luca.” This entire time I’ve been holding myself back from interrupting her, especially when she says my mother was a singer! But when she says I had a brother I can’t stop the words.
“I… I have a brother? Please, please tell me he’s alive.” Despite promising myself I wouldn’t cry anymore, I feel the tears flowing freely and try as I might, I can’t help the hope that blooms in my heart. A brother! I could have a brother out there somewhere and I have to find him.
"We don't know where Luca is," a deep, gravelly voice says from the doorway behind us.
Gavriel stands, taking me with him, and leads us toward the man who could only be his father. He's an older carbon copy of Gavriel and Marco. He has the same black hair but peppered with sliver throughout. He’s tall and broad-shouldered like his sons, wearing a three-piece suit. Tan skin with lines between his brows, as if he’s normally glowering, and though his black eyes shine with kindness, I can easily see the Mafia Boss within him. Like his wife, he radiates dominance, only his feels more predatory and barely contained. It has the hair on the back of my neck standing.
I can see where Gavriel gets his deadliness from.
"Father, this is—"
“Anastasia Romano.” Mr. Renzetti interrupts, looking me straight in the eyes with his cold gaze. It makes me want to look away, but I've never been one to back down from a challenge. I stare at him while my fingers twitch for my blade.
I can see the kindness but damn! His vibes feel like controlled danger.
Suddenly he smiles and relaxes his stance. “I can see Frankie’s lethal fire in her eyes, but she’s the perfect copy of Lily."
I relax and smile at him, now that I know he's not looking for a lie in my eyes.
He opens his arms, inviting me in for a hug, and steps forward. "My God, I thought—I thought you died.” He's stoic, but his voice breaks as he wraps his arms around me. He, just as his wife, feels like home. Like the father I never had. He pats my back and kisses the top of my head as we hug. I hear Martina quietly crying and laughing at the same time. This is a joyous moment. One I’ll never forget and hope to share with my brother one day.
“Are you hungry, figlia?” Zia asks. “I cooked Alfredo earlier. I can warm you a plate or maybe some homemade bread?” She sounds like a doting mother trying to fatten me up. I love her already. I believe any Italian mother’s answer to most any situation is good food, but right now I desperately want to learn more.
Especially about my brother.
“Yes, I'd love some, but, Zia, I've spent my life without answers. Can you tell me more about my family first?” I don’t mean to sound pushy but being so close to answers, I can’t think of anything else.
“How about we tell you more while Martina warms up some food for you and we’ll have some wine as well, hmm?” Mr. Renzetti suggests. He puts an arm around my shoulders and leads me out the door but stops and says to Marco, “Figlio, take your girl up to a spare bedroom so she can rest peacefully. Make sure she has everything she needs. Once she's comfortable, come back down.”
Marco blushes but says, “Yes, Pop.” I see Carla is awake but fighting the effects of whatever was slipped in her drink. I look at her to make sure she’s okay and she gives me a wink and a nod. She’s had a crush on Marco since he came to the bar the night I sang to the Renzettis. I smile at her and blow a kiss.
On the walk to the kitchen I slip my hand into Gavriel’s and give it a squeeze, letting him know I haven’t forgotten him. He’s been my silent rock this whole time. Rubbing soothing circles on my knee and back while I learned about my family.
Once we’re in the kitchen I sit at the island with Gavi while his father opens a bottle of wine and his mother pulls plates out from the cabinet.
“Mr. Renzetti—” I start, but he stops me.
“No, ragazza. When you first learned to speak you called me Zio. You can call me that or Andino, yes?”
Smiling, I say, “Zio, do you know what happened to my brother? Was he taken by the state as well? Maybe he’s out there somewhere.” He’s got to be somewhere, possibly looking for answers like me. Does he remember me? Maybe he’s looking for me! My mind is spinning with possibilities. To think that this entire time I had a brother out there and a family here who loved us but thought we were dead.
He hands me the long-stemmed wine glass and says, “A few hours ago I believed you had died, yet here you sit. You and your brother are only seven years apart, so I imagine he remembers more than you. I will personally start looking for him. It's possible, if he became a ward of the state, that he'd come back once he aged out of the system. Don't worry, principessa, your presence has given me hope. I'll begin the search tomorrow."
Gavriel appears to be deep in thought but then asks, "Didn't Liliana have a sister? Maybe we could find her and let her know Sia is alive and well."
Andino's stern voice makes me jump a bit. “No. We will not tell anyone who she is. I will personally look for Luca, but this information does not leave this room. We must make sure she and Luca have no enemies before going public. Is that understood?” His voice has gone cold and it sends a shiver through me.
Gavriel stiffens next to me and when I look at him, I see that his eyes have gone cold. The deadly look is frightening, but his words, damn, his words are a promise from the killer himself.
“I will not allow anything to happen to Sia. I'll kill anyone who dares try.” Looking at me, he says, “I promise.”
I swallow hard with a nod but ask, “Why would I have enemies? Were my parents like you all?” He finches a bit like he thought I was clueless to his family’s lifestyle.
“I know you all are, uh, cosa nostra. I got curious when people were posting things about me singing for the famiglia.”
Looking almost unsure, Gavriel asks, “And that didn’t frighten
you off?” He really thought I’d think badly of him? He doesn’t realize that it’s the opposite for me. How could I think wrongly of the only man I've crossed paths with who not only treats me with respect but cares enough to care?
No matter what life he lives or what choices he makes on the daily, I’ll willingly stand with him.
I want to tell him these things, but I feel that I must tell them more about myself before he decides anything about me. “Let me tell you all what frightens me,” I start, turning to look at them all. Even Marco as he walks in and takes a seat.
Taking a deep breath, I stand up. I need to move around to tell my story. “I grew up in children shelters and foster homes, surviving a life no child should ever face. I’ve been beaten down not just by life but by the hands of the very people who are supposed to care for the parentless children, foster parents and child caretakers. I’ve had to defend my body from people who thought it was okay to rape or molest a child.” My voice is shaking, not with tears but rage. I look at each of them and see the same emotion in their eyes and it makes me feel good to have a family who is angry on my behalf. I’m not alone anymore and that thought has me saying my next words with ease.
“I learned quickly how to fight and how to sleep lightly. Once, while in the hospital after my foster parents beat the shit out of me for not taking the trash out, a nurse who knew the story given to him was a lie, gave me my switchblade." I take it out and begin spinning it between my fingers, a soothing habit I’ve picked up over time.
"I was just fifteen years old the first time I used it to protect myself. A male caretaker came into my room after I'd just fallen asleep. I stabbed him repeatedly and felt so scared. Not for what I'd done but because of the deep satisfaction I got seeing my abuser in fear of me. Being on top of the food chain, so to speak. I was afraid I'd lost my last bit of humanity when I smiled at his pain. Maybe I did, maybe not, but I’ve used more than my trusty switchblade to defend myself. Always in defense of myself or someone else. So, my fear is not the blood on your hands or the things you’ve done to others in the name of la famiglia, no, my fear is to go back to living life alone with no one watching my back.”