"Probably because he's determined to get out of it. But he won't."
"Why are you so..." I glare at him. "Why are you so intent on breaking us up?"
"Because even though you may belong together, I can't let that happen."
"But why?" I insist.
"Because I need to teach Adrian a lesson about the importance of family," Bernardi goes on. "He needs to understand how family and love fit together. What's more important, Marzia? The fact that Adrian is responsible for the death of your parents, or the fact that you love him?"
My lips form a thin line and I stare at the man in front of me with open defiance. I don't want to answer him, because I don't know the right thing to say.
He seems to realize that, grinning at me. "You don't even have to tell me. Just think about it. I'll ask you for the answer again sometime."
"If you live long enough," I mutter quietly enough so he doesn't hear when another coughing fit takes over. I realize I'm being vicious, but I'm programmed to hate this man who took everything away from me. Yet, I find myself curious about his intentions. Why the hell does he care about me? He wants me dead, after all. Finally, it dawns on me. "Oh, I get it now."
"Get what?"
"You want my brother," I hiss. "And Vitto. You're not done wiping us out of Sicily, you sick monster."
He laughs out loud. "I know where they are, Marzia. And I also know about the little letters your maid delivers to them."
I pale.
"Don't worry," he goes on. "I won't tell Adrian."
"But why—"
"Because I'm the only one old enough and wise enough to see the bigger picture here." He shrugs. "You'll understand someday, Marzia. You will understand why the events that happened since your birthday had to happen the way they did."
"If you're trying to excuse the fact that you killed my parents, you're not fucking succeeding."
"Such a smart mouth…" He laughs. "No, my dear, I'm well aware you won't forgive me for that. But trust me when I say, I did it for your own good. Now, I have a couple more questions for you before I leave."
"What?" I eye him cautiously. If nothing else, his behavior has surprised me. He doesn't seem as dead set on killing me as he was just a few days ago.
"Does Adrian make you happy?"
I stare at him, contemplating my answer. I can't explain it in simple terms because I don't even know the answer myself. Or perhaps I'm just not ready to come to terms with my own feelings. "Sometimes," I answer slowly. "But he also makes me scared, angry and bitter."
"You should lean into your positive emotions," Bernardi suggests. "You two can offer great support to one another in times of need."
"Well, all your son has done so far is torture me," I hiss. "And I can say the same for you."
"Don't be so negative. Look at it from a different perspective and remember what I told you. It had to happen this way to get the outcome we all want."
"Which is?" My brows shoot up.
Bernardi merely chuckles. "Unfortunately, you'll have to wait and see. I'm sorry I can't quench the thirst for answers right now, my dear, but trust me, it will work out the way it should."
"With me dead?"
He merely laughs and rises from the chair. "I'll bid you goodbye now, Marzia."
"Goodbye," I mutter harshly, glaring at him as he makes his way out of the room.
He hesitates with his hand on the door handle, looking at me over his shoulder. "Marzia, I'm sorry your parents had to die."
His words shock me and I stare at him, trying to see a trace that he's lying.
Bruno's face is open and honest. "Please understand spilling blood is not the way I choose to get things done. But what must be done, must be done. And I believe you'll forgive me."
"If you believe that, you're a fool," I seethe.
He offers me a sad smile, followed by a short nod. "I deserve that. I'll see you soon, Marzia." He exits, locking the door from the outside again.
I only notice then my hands have formed fists and my nails are digging into my palms painfully, reminding me this man is the enemy.
For a moment there, I almost forgot what he did. That he fucking killed my parents before my eyes, murdered them in cold blood. Bruno Bernardi is a fool if he truly believes I'll ever forgive him.
I notice he left behind a handkerchief with his initials, and when I pick it up from the coffee table, I realize it's speckled with blood.
No matter what lies Bernardi has fed me, I know there's something else going on, something not even Adrian is aware of. No healthy man would cough up so much blood.