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“Did you talk about me?”
“We did, but that’s confidential. I don’t want to break her trust.”
I grimaced. “I’ll send her a beautiful present for Christmas.”
“I don’t think she wants presents from you. She wants you to be there for Battista and prove to her that you really care about her.”
“That’s what she said?”
“That’s what any woman would expect from a man.”
Aurora never reacted to the present I sent her. I had a feeling she’d either thrown it away unopened or pushed it to the back of her wardrobe.
Greta was probably right. What Aurora wanted from me couldn’t be paid with a black American Express.
Maybe a fucking idiotic part of me had even hoped she’d give me a call. Instead, Fabiano had. His words repeated in my head ever since.
“Don’t come back if you’re the same crazy, irresponsible motherfucker that you are now. Aurora doesn’t need you to ruin her life more than you already have. We all don’t need you to stir up shit like you used to do. The man you’re now is not worthy of becoming Capo of the Camorra, so unless you become a worthier man, which I fucking doubt, then stay there and don’t come back to Vegas. Your father fought the same, maybe even worse demons than you, but he fucking stepped up to the task of raising his brothers, to claiming his territory, and even becoming a better father than anyone could ever hope for. He’s Capo of the Camorra. You’re not, and I don’t see that changing. If you have a shred of decency, you’ll let her go.”
His words had hit their mark. He’d voiced some of my own thoughts of the last few months.
But letting Aurora go was simply not an option. Even from Italy, Alessio and Massimo kept me updated on her life despite their initial protests.
I wasn’t sure what I’d expected when Nevio had left. That he’d be back by Christmas? But two months after he’d run off to Italy, he was still there. I made sure not to pay attention when Alessio and Massimo discussed what he was up to. I didn’t want to hear about possible female conquests or how he had the time of his life killing for the Camorra there.
On Christmas morning, I glared at the present that Massimo was holding out to me. He’d been clever enough to hand it over to me before my family and I met with the Falcones for our traditional gift exchange and breakfast. Though handing over wasn’t the right term as I refused to take the small parcel wrapped in expensive-looking blue gift wrap.
“It’s for you.” Massimo held it closer to me. Battista, who I was holding on my hip, made a move to snatch it up. He’d turned a year old a few weeks ago. I’d picked a date for him for lack of knowing his real birthday. Nevio had even sent him a present too. I bet Serafina had told him what to get, and Battista had been excited about the Ferrari ride-on car. But I definitely didn’t want a present from Nevio.
“I don’t want it,” I said. I could hear Mom and Dad talking upstairs, and it sounded as if they were about to come down. If Dad saw the present, his mood would go downhill. Just the mentioning of Nevio usually brought out his anger. “Shouldn’t he have bought something for his son?”
“That’s under the Christmas tree in the common room like all the other presents, but I thought it prudent to hide Nevio’s present for you from our families as it might cause some aggression.”
I snorted, which made Battista’s eyes light up, and he giggled.
Why did Nevio even think I wanted a gift from him? It only made me furious.
I was trying so hard not to think about him. A task which was made almost impossible by the small boy who resembled him more and more every day.
“I’m not taking it back,” Massimo said simply. “I can leave it here on the patio or I can give it to you.”
I ripped it from his hand. “All right. But I won’t look at it.”
“Can you give this to Carlotta? I can’t visit her in the hospital.” He held out another parcel to me.
“Sure,” I said in a less hostile tone. “She’ll be very happy about it.”
Carlotta had been struggling with her health in the past few days, and it had gotten so bad that she’d be spending Christmas in the hospital to keep a close eye on her oxygen saturation. Dad and Mom entered the kitchen at that moment.
“I hope that’s not a gift from Nevio,” Dad growled.
I gave him an annoyed look. “It’s from Massimo for Carlotta.”
“Oh, that’s sweet,” Mom said with a smile at Massimo, who looked as if he’d rather be somewhere else.
Dad’s anger disappeared. Of course, he then spotted the other present. “And what about that one?”
“That’s from Nevio, but I won’t open it if that makes you happy.”
