Page 95 of Harbor

“What are you doing here?” Renzo demanded.

Lucian Marcello smiled from his seat. He wore a three-piece, black suit that looked tailored to his form. A shiny watch glittered under the bare bulb hanging overhead, as did the gold wedding band on his finger, and the signet M ring on his index finger. He just fucking smelled like old money and privilege sitting there smiling at Renzo like he had the upper hand between them.

In a way, the man had exactly that.

Lucian waved a finger at the window on the other side of Renzo. Really, it looked like a mirror, but he knew better. That’s where the guard was watching his meeting, and while there was no speaker to say the guard could listen in, he didn’t trust any of them with an inch. “See, I have influence and weight being who I am, Renzo. I can pull strings just about … anywhere, really. If I want something, all I really have to do is name the right price to get it.”

Renzo didn’t move an inch. “Well, if you want me dead, all you really have to do is pay somebody inside to get the job done. I don’t see why you’d make the effort to get in here to do it yourself.”

The man chuckled.

Actually fucking laughed.

Renzo didn’t know what to make of that.

“I’m not here to kill you,” Lucian said, sobering quickly. He gestured at the only empty metal seat at the table. “Sit, and chat with me.”

“I’d rather not.”

“I didn’t ask what you wanted to do. Sit.”

“You can leave; I think you’ve done enough to me, Lucian. You don’t have to gloat. You don’t seem like the type of man who would kick somebody when they’re already down.”

That smile of Lucian’s faded fast. He met Renzo’s gaze again, and nodded once. “You’re right, I’m not. You should really hear me out right now, though … I am willing to help you, if you care to let me.”

Yeah, he didn’t believe that for a second.

Lucian didn’t seem like he cared.

“I want to apologize for what I said to you about your mother,” Lucian murmured.

Renzo’s gaze narrowed. “What?”

“At your apartment the first time we met face to face, I called your mother a mess, didn’t I? And while she is … I said it with an arrogance meant to hurt you. To embarrass you, even. I intended for you to hear me say it and know that I knew where you came from.”

“That I came from trash,” Renzo said thickly. “Just like her. Yeah, I heard you.”

Lucian cleared his throat. “I was wrong; I apologize.”

Renzo didn’t know what to say to that.

So, he said nothing.

Lucian didn’t seem to mind, as he simply continued talking like he was really the only one who needed to speak between them. And hell, maybe he was. God knew there was nothing that Renzo could say to this man that would be nice. Not at the moment, anyway.

“Seems you cared for your brother from the time he was born, didn’t you?” Lucian asked, but not like he expected an answer from Renzo. “You see, I did something I perhaps should have done from the start … look into you, I mean. Thank Vito Christiano for that, really.”

Renzo’s head snapped up, and his gaze locked onto Lucian’s. “What?”

“Vito—he’s still around, doing his thing in this life, but not as much as he used to a couple of years ago. But he’s still there with a voice, and occasionally, he opens his mouth for the rest of us so that we have to listen to him. This time, he chose to open his mouth for you. Really, in a way, you owe your life to him, but that’s a conversation for another day.”

Renzo just blinked.

He didn’t know what to say to that.

Lucian continued on, unbothered, “So yes, you looked after the littlest of your siblings from a newborn age. And your sister, too, really. Went out on the streets quite young to hustle, do what you needed to do, and make sure you all survived. While your mother was off shooting up and sleeping with her regular Johns, you were …. running the streets, making sure your siblings didn’t go cold or hungry like you had to do a time or two.”

“A time or two,” Renzo said, scoffing hard. “That’s funny.”