Provocation was his tactic, like it had been that of Remo in the past. “She is your sister. She does the talking because I allowed her to do so. Don’t worry, Fabi—if I had anything to say to you, I’d say it.”
“We are not your enemy, Fabi,” Aria said.
We were. If it wasn’t for Aria, I would have ended Fabiano in this moment.
“I’m a member of the Camorra. You are my enemies. I have a message from Remo for you.” He met my gaze and his twisted grin made my blood boil. “You have nothing to offer Remo or the Camorra, unless perhaps you send him your wife for a joy ride.”
I lunged at him, wanting to crush his fucking throat, but Aria stepped in the way and I had to jerk to a stop or I would have barreled into her. “Calm down, Luca,” Aria begged, her eyes full of despair.
I shook with suppressed rage as I glared at Fabiano. I would kill him one day.
Fabiano bowed mockingly. “I assume that’s all.”
“Don’t you want to know how Lily and Gianna are doing?” Aria asked hopefully. That she didn’t mention Marcella and Amo told me that despite her hope, she knew her brother was a threat and not family.
“They mean nothing to me. The day you left for your pampered life in New York, you ceased existing for me.”
Fabiano turned around and left, and I let him. Let him because of Aria, and because I couldn’t fucking risk war with the Camorra at the moment.
Matteo twisted his knife, looking like he wanted to go after Fabiano and slice his throat.
Aria turned to face me with shock-widened eyes. “What happened to him?”
“The Camorra,” Growl rasped. “And Remo fucking Falcone. I met him only a few times, but even as a boy my half-brother was…” He shook his head. “Can’t find the right word.”
“Yeah,” Matteo said.
Aria walked past me and sank down on the sofa, her back to us.
I motioned for my brother and Growl to leave us alone. When they were out, I touched Aria’s shoulder. She peered up at me, unshed tears in her eyes. She leaned her cheek against my hand on her shoulder.
Then she held up a piece of paper. I frowned.
“Fabiano put it in my pocket asking for a meeting tonight.” She swallowed. “Alone.”
“You won’t go.”
She stood and lifted her chin. “I will go. I need to give him one last chance.”
“Aria, he won’t take it. You know why he wants you alone.”
She looked away. “You don’t know that. He is my brother. Maybe he needs to talk to me alone.” But I could see the doubt in her expression.
“Let’s go home,” I said. “And tonight we’ll meet him together.”
She nodded.
When we stepped into our penthouse, Lily, heavily pregnant, sat on the couch with Amo and Marcella. Aria walked over to our children and hugged them tightly and kissed the top of their heads. Lily frowned, gaze questioning. I wouldn’t be the one to tell a woman due any day now that her brother was a member of the Camorra, and Aria didn’t seem too eager sharing that piece of information either.
“Mom, I can do a handstand!” Marcella said proudly.
Amo nodded enthusiastically.
“Then let’s see,” I encouraged her.
Marcella got up. “You have to catch my feet, Dad.”
“I will.” She stepped close and then she fell forward. With her momentum she would have fallen over, but I caught her feet.
Aria clapped. I lifted Marcella off the ground by her legs and she began giggling when I swung her back and forth. Amo stormed toward me. “Me too!”
I put Marcella down and gripped Amo, letting him hang head down as well.
Aria laughed, shaking her head. “Your head is turning red, Amo.”
I raised Amo higher so I could see his face, and he grinned widely. “Higher!”
I complied but when his head turned too red, I set him down.
“Now go wash your hands,” Aria said, and Marcella and Amo dashed off toward the bathroom.
“Can you watch them tonight as well?” I asked.
Liliana glanced between Aria and me. “Did something happen?”
Aria shook her head. “No. Luca and I only need some time to ourselves.”
“Okay,” Liliana said slowly. “Romero picks me up in thirty minutes. We can take Marcella and Amo home with us and bring them back tomorrow around lunch?”
“Thank you,” Aria said, hugging her sister.It was almost two in the morning when we got into our car and headed toward the meeting point Fabiano had mentioned in his letter. Aria was quiet beside me. I reached for her hand and she gave me a grateful smile.
She looked resolved, not broken-hearted as I’d feared. She fumbled with a bracelet on her left wrist. It was the first time I’d seen it on her. Usually she only wore the bracelet I had given her. I parked in a side street and turned to Aria. She noticed my gaze on her wrist. “It was my mother’s. I want to give it to Fabiano.”