Marco stood, too, though he grimaced when he did. Presumably due to his leg. “What you do is the family’s business, brother, but you forgot that, didn’t you? It’s fine for you to go off for months on your own, to ignore us and your obligations. To turn into a shell of who you used to be, to have yourself a pity party…”
Alessandro gasped. And wearing a look of shock on his face, Gabriel turned toward Marco putting up a hand, “Bro, stop.”
But Marco didn’t stop. “And now that you’re back and ready to take responsibility, you bring a total stranger into our midst. I just can’t believe now that you’ve finally got your shit together that you’re going to give another woman the chance to ruin you the same way Alana did.”
Then, it was as if a fuse blew inside Luca’s head. His face twisted into something more demonic than human as he lunged across the table toward Marco, sending glass and food and china flying. Yelping, I ducked out of the way as the Luca wrapped his hands around his brother’s throat, squeezing with deadly intent.
Alessandro and Gabriel jumped into the fray attempting to separate them, but Luca was like a man possessed. By the time his other two brothers pulled him off Marco, the most muscular Varasso brother had nearly lost consciousness. He lay there sputtering and coughing as Luca gave a breathless decree.
“You want him alive,” he said, eyeing Alessandro and Gabriel, “keep him out of my sight for the foreseeable future.”
Still huffing and puffing, Luca pivoted toward me. The scuffle had left him disheveled, his suit jacket wrinkled and the white oxford shirt beneath it torn. His expression set to exceptionally pissed, I flinched when he seized my hand, but though he’d come close to killing his brother, his hand was gentle as it grasped mine.
He pulled me to my feet and together we whirled out of the dining room. Leaving the other brothers to deal with the repercussions.
An hour later, Luca and I sat peering out at the city skyline in silence. He’d taken me to the rear of the mansion to a whopping balcony on the third floor that stretched half the length of the building. In the distance I could see the glimmering waters of the Delaware, as well as the huge roundabout next to the Philadelphia Art Museum.
I tended to be reckless with my words—sometimes I wondered if I had some sort of ironic death wish—it was like an engrained response. But after what I’d witnessed, even I didn’t have the heart to push Luca’s buttons.
And it wasn’t because I’d just seen him lose his collective shit, either. It had more to do with the pain behind it. Pain Marco had elicited by mentioning one name. Alana. The woman Luca had loved. The woman I knew must be Anna’s mother.
Once we arrived on that balcony, Luca stationed himself on the far end, going as still as a statue. I left him to it, sensing his need to be alone, despite him bringing me along. I actually felt glad to be included. He’d allowed me to witness him in some of his worst moments, trusted me, and that must mean something.
What exactly that was I had no idea.
12
Luca
I stared out at the cityscape, letting my eyes go unfocused. My rage at my brother had mostly subsided, leaving me with questions I had no answers for. While I understood his reservations about Molly—hell, even I couldn’t pinpoint why having her nearby felt so necessary —his way of communicating his feelings on the matter left much to be desired.
I would’ve thought his run-ins with our father would’ve taught him to have better judgment, but evidently, they hadn’t. Instead, every word out of his mouth had been barbed with malevolent cruelty. Maybe expecting anything else out of a Varasso was shortsighted, though. Each one of us had been guilty of such cruelty, especially my father.
Especially me.
When he’d been younger, Marco had been the quiet, obedient son. Of all of us, he’d been the most eager to please. But as an adult, he’d gotten louder. More aggressive. He’d begun to question our father’s decisions and even motives at times.
And now, he was doing it to me. I might forgive Marco at some point, but it wouldn’t be today. Or anytime soon. Some of what he’d said was true; I couldn’t deny it. But I didn’t want to hear anything negative about the woman I’d loved and lost.
I couldn’t.
One thing I could do was feel Molly’s presence out here on the balcony with me. Nevertheless, she didn’t infringe on my privacy. Maybe this was why I kept her around, kept going out of my way to spend time with her. I appreciated how she handled herself. I appreciated her discretion.
She’d basically been brought into one of the worst situations imaginable, yet she somehow managed to buck expectations. My father’s. Mine. She was like a tree growing off the sheer cliff of a mountain. She shouldn’t be surviving or holding her own, but she was.
Here was a woman who ostensibly came from nothing, had nothing going for her, yet she was strong as hell. She refused to be cowed, no matter what happened or what my family threw at her. It impressed me.
She impressed me.
I admired her spunk and tenaciousness. Her spirit.
I’d never met anyone like Molly Greene.
I glanced over at her now where she stood with her back to me. She could’ve used the phone call I’d given her yesterday to try to escape, but she didn’t. She could’ve used the distraction caused by the Bianchi attack to get out, but she hadn’t.
Yesterday, when I’d believed my daughter had been killed, she’d witnessed a total breakdown from me. I kept waiting to see her look at me with repulsion or disgust in her eyes, but that’s not the emotion I’d received from her.
Instead, she’d been compassionate. She hadn’t made excuses to get away. Molly had stayed with me, touched me, been willing to comfort me. Even though she didn’t know me from Adam. And what she did know about me was horrifying.