Marco rolls his eyes and gives a subtle shake of his head. My father walks ahead of us and doesn’t see the nonverbal exchange.
“Nothing, Pops. Just that Marco’s so gruff. He needs to find a little romance within his soul,” I lie, feeling bad.
My relationship with my father has improved drastically, even to the point of me calling him Pops and no longer Father. Yet, it hasn’t changed that much that I would rat out my brothers. Besides, if he knew that Marco was cheating on Graziella, he would have his balls on a tray.
My brother was married to a woman that he didn’t love. His arranged marriage was no more than a business contract between our father and hers. Giuseppe Moretti was the founder and CEO of the Moretti Group, the umbrella group for banking, insurance, and investment firms.
It was a marriage made in mafia heaven, the union between our businesses and theirs, not the literal marriage of my brother and Grazie. Graziella and Marco have been friends since their teen years. It was no secret that she had liked Marco since meeting him, but my brother was a notorious flirt who took her virginity and broke her heart.
The moment she saw the opportunity to snag him, she took it. After a dinner event where our parents mingled, she planted the idea about a potential wedding match in her parents’ heads. Once her dad shared it with our father, the ball started rolling, and Marco had little to say.
“Boys!” my mother greets as we step into the foyer of our home.
It’s always been like that since we were kids. Whenever my father would return home from an out-of-town trip, she would be waiting at the door to greet him. She said it was because she was his respite from the world at his back; she wanted to be welcoming him with open arms when he returned to his sanctuary.
The three of us stood in line in birth order, waiting while our father lavished her with kisses and hugs. Once he released her, she greeted each of us with a warm hug and a smattering of kisses.
Pushing my hair back from my head, she smiles at me and says, “My Ales. I’m so proud of the man that you’ve become. You’re the father and the husband I always knew you could be.”
“Thank you, Mama.”
“As much as I love looking at your handsome face, I was given strict orders to ensure you returned as soon as possible. So, turn around, walk back out that door, and into your waiting car.”
“But we have a meeting—”
“Ah-ah! Tonight, you don’t. You four have had two weeks to discuss business. I want my husband to myself tonight, and I know Mila wants hers. Besides, these two have wives waiting for them at home whether they’d rather go or not,” she chides.
“Angie, what are you doing? I told the boys—”
“Ed, I’m telling them that they must go home. It’ll be fine. Whatever you didn’t discuss in your two weeks away or on the plane can wait,” she tells my father, giving him a stern gaze.
He frowns at her, and then she tips up on her toes and whispers something. His face turns red before he turns back to us. “I’ll see you, boys, tomorrow morning, here at my office at nine. Capisci?” he asks firmly.
“Sí,” we reply simultaneously.
“What was that all about?” Marco asks as we step back out into the motor court.
“I don’t want to know,” Antonio grumbles, heading towards the motorcycle that has been bought around for him.
“You good?” I ask Marco as Antonio powers up his engine and prepares to leave.
Marco rubs his hand down his face. “I was wondering if I could catch a ride with you. I’ll get a car back home later.”
Shaking my head, I ask, “When are you gonna stop, Marc?”
“I don’t know that I can, man.”
“You’re in way too deep, Marc.”
“I know, but…what the hell do you want me to do?”
“How about honoring your vows.”
Shooting a glare my way, he says, “That’s a fucking joke, and you and I both know it.”
“Her feelings aren’t.”
“That matters to me because?”