Page 9 of Marcus

So, why did it feel like a timer had started?

Marcus didn’t have time to think about it. Men started talking, and Gian moved away from the table. Someone came into his line of vision, a hand reaching out to clap him on the shoulder. Soon, his brothers, the ones that remained in their organization, Chris and Bene, were there too, ready to chat and give their congratulations.

It wasn’t until much later that Marcus finally got the chance to speak with his father. Long after the men had left the mansion, and the dinner party was over. He sat on one side of his father’s desk, and Gian rested behind it. The two stared at each other for a long time, neither willing to speak first.

Eventually, Marcus murmured, “You could have given me a heads up.”

“For what, something you knew was coming?”

“Or that you planned to do it tonight.”

Gian chuckled. “Someone has to keep you on your toes, Marcus.”

He loved his father.

He did.

People often said they were twins, and considering Marcus was the only one of his brothers that didn’t have an identical twin, it really said something. Right now, though, he thought in moments like these he was nothing like his father.

“You’ll have time to get everything settled,” Gian said, “I give my word.”

Marcus nodded. “All right.”

“I know you have a lot going on—”

“I’ll handle everything.”

He always did.

Gian smiled a bit. “I have no doubt, fils. On another topic, though, could you do me one more favor?”

“What else is there?”

“Something for your mother.”

“Not for business?”

“No, something just for her … our anniversary, but I can’t be too close to the project, or she’ll find out. She always does.”

Marcus had every reason to say no. All his duties, this big shift in the family, too, that would surely change his entire life even more than it already had. He could have said no, and he doubted his father would complain about it.

Still, he said, “I’ll do whatever you need, Papa. You know that.”

It’s who Marcus was.

He didn’t know how to be anything different.

“Knock, knock.”

Cella grinned at the familiar voice of her older sister, finding Liliana standing in the doorway of her office at her design studio. “Finally made it to my side of town, huh?”

After her husband’s death, Cella relocated to Rochester, which was a good six hours away from her parents’ home. So, when her sister made the trip in from Chicago to visit, sometimes her and Cella passed each other by more often than not when six hours was a long drive to make just to visit for an hour or two. She understood, and never blamed Liliana, but she wished the two of them got together more often than they did.

“Still loving Rochester more?”

Cella shrugged. “Really, I just don’t want to relocate my studio again.”

Not entirely a lie.