Page 108 of Marcus

Marcus, on the other hand, paced in his upstairs office as he listened to the conversation happening downstairs. A conversation he should absolutely join because his voice, as the acting boss, was really the only one that needed to be heard. And yet, he didn’t go down to join his brothers.

Or his father.

Gian accompanied him home, too, but was currently quiet downstairs.

As for Marcus, well, he couldn’t stop looking at the goddamn phone on his desk. With every pass he made by the phone at the edge of the desk, the need growing inside his chest to just call her became more and more prominent. He couldn’t seem to ignore it no matter how hard he tried. The bigger problem was the other shit he felt.

Bitterness.

Betrayal.

But how should one—someone like him—feel when he allowed someone like Cella into his life, gave her the parts of himself that he kept most protected, and then she was so quick to throw it aside when the inevitable happened.

Because that was the thing …

This had been inevitable. Whether it happened yesterday, or four months from now, it would happen. That was just this life of theirs. Something was always right around the corner waiting to show them that one couldn’t escape the legacy following them.

He understood this life had already taken from her, and no doubt, the thought of it taking more scared her away but that didn’t change how he felt.

This heaviness.

The loneliness.

It didn’t answer his whys.

“Are you going to call her, then?”

Marcus had been reaching for the phone—his inner desires making themselves known without his physical permission—as his father asked the question from the doorway. He dropped his hand back to his side and spun on his heels to face Gian.

“You don’t know how to knock?” he demanded.

To his father’s benefit, Gian barely blinked at the attitude. Apparently, there was a first for everything. Maybe it was the circumstances they currently found themselves in as to why his father was letting things slip that he normally wouldn’t, but Marcus couldn’t be sure.

“Sorry,” Marcus quickly said, “I’m just … in a mood.”

Gian shrugged, leaning against the doorjamb. “I have decided you are allowed to … do whatever you would like to do, attitude included.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You said something to me that made me think. Was I letting you do your job the way you should do it, or was I putting too much of my expectations on you to behave as I would? Maybe you didn’t say it in those words, but that’s what I considered. I’m making an effort not to do that anymore, fils.”

Huh.

“I appreciate it,” Marcus replied.

“I actually wonder whether or not the fact you haven’t already permanently taken care of the issues with the gang in Quebec had anything to do with me. And if so, does that make me to blame for what happened? I’m not sure, but it’s where my mind is at the moment.”

“Do you want an honest answer?”

Gian smiled. “I expect nothing less from you, Marcus.”

“Yes,” Marcus said. “Yes, I kept you in the back of my mind. I didn’t want to do what you did—I remember how you told me taking over la famiglia in the midst of chaos made it harder to feel comfortable in your position. That your seat felt unsteady.”

“You don’t have to prove yourself.”

Didn’t he?

His father was Gian Guzzi.