She places her drink down and turns toward me. “It’s time for you to go.”
“Go where? I don’t have any meetings today.” Edwardo places my scotch down and I pick it up, downing it in one large gulp before knocking on the bar top for him to get me another.
“To her, Giovanni. I need my son back.”
I let out a humorless laugh and take a slightly smaller sip of the new drink in front of me. “What the hell are you talking about, Mom?” I take another sip and finish off the drink.
“I was wrong last year. I was thinking like the wife of a mob boss and not like your mother. I never should have told you to let her go.”
“It doesn’t even matter. She’s halfway across the world and safe. What would I do? Bring her back here, into this life again? So, what? She can get kidnapped and raped again?” I wince at my own words and reach over the bar, grabbing the bottle of scotch to pour myself another drink.
“Natalie tells me you are drunk every day, Giovanni. We’ve all watched you self-destruct this past year. I thought you would come around but you haven’t.”
“What the fuck do you all want from me?” I roar. Members and staff turn their gaze on me, and I force my voice lower. “You wanted me to let her go, so I did. Dad threatened her. He wouldn’t even help find her unless I agreed. I did what you wanted. What. More. Do you want from me?”
I take a swig straight from the bottle, not even bothering to pour it into the glass tumbler.
“Aria…” my mom says, and I cut her off.
“Don’t you say her name! Her name is not allowed to leave your fucking mouth.” I swipe the bottle and tumbler across the bar, both flying off the end and crashing to the ground. Edgardo jumps into action, without even giving me a second glance, to clean it up. This isn’t the first, third, or probably thirteenth damn time glass has been broken at this bar. My elbows hit the bar top, my head going into my hands as I scrub my face in an attempt to calm down. “I’m sorry.”
“I’ve spoken to your father and you’re out.”
My head shoots up at her words. “What do you mean I’m out?”
The rims of my mom’s lids fill with unshed tears. “You are out of the organization.”
“You’re disowning me?” I ask incredulously.
“No.” She shakes her head. “You will always be our son, and while your dad isn’t happy about you leaving, he will come around. You’re out of the organization. Mario is moving here to take over the restaurant and Casino and Nico is going to take over the bordello and any other business you have. Amber has agreed. They won’t be living here, but he’ll run the place with Natalie. We were wrong to put you in such a position. We had it set in our minds about you and Cecilia.”
I hear what she’s saying, but it all feels so surreal. I’m free. So many times I’ve dreamt about what I would do if I was free, but I never believed it would happen. Could I have walked away a year ago? Yeah, I could have, but Aria wouldn’t let me. She told me she couldn’t come between my family and me. She asked—no, she begged—me to let her go. So, I did. I let her go, and it feels like the day she walked out the door, with her bags in her hands, is the day my heart stopped beating.
“Do you think she’ll want to see me? She was kidnapped and raped because of me.”
My mom’s built-up tears fall and she gives me a sad smile. “If she loves you the way you love her, the way I believe she loves you, I can’t imagine she’d ever hold you responsible for what happened. But there’s only one way to find out.”
“Why are you doing this for me, Mom?”
“Because once upon a time I believed in the fairytale. I believed in the power of love. But somewhere along the way, I got caught up in your father’s world of power and materialistic possessions and began to live a lie, telling myself those two things equaled love. I’ve told your father I’m done accepting him the way he is. I’m done turning my cheek while he cheats on me. If things don’t change, I am filing for divorce.”
My eyes widen at her admission. “You threatened to divorce Dad?”
“That’s right. He says things will be different so we’ll see. I’m not sure if it’s too late for us, but I don’t believe it’s too late for you and Aria.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
ARIA
“Buongiorno! Caffè e pasticceria per favore.”
Francesca, the wonderful woman who owns the bakery I frequent daily, smiles and grabs my usual coffee and pastry. I hand her four euros and make my way to the outside patio to set up my laptop. I plug it into the outlet and connect to the Wi-Fi before taking a sip of the hot, caffeinated goodness.