Page 38 of The Man with a Treasure

As my father helped sit me up, my eyes raced to see what Sal was looking at. Mr. Rossi was with Noemi. She had her jacket back on and was quietly crying while nodding to whatever Mr. Rossi was saying to her, but was in a deadlock stare with Sal. When she noticed me, her expression softened, and her hand covered her mouth as her eyes drifted shut, more tears falling.

Instant fear plagued me. “Papa, please do not speak to her parents about us—”

“My son, no one present will ever speak of what transpired here tonight.” His eyes drifted shut. “Or any night that was spent with her.”

I did not want one degrading opinion formed of her, so I growled, “Her integrity has not been touched. You understand? She is one of the best people I know.”

His eyes snapped open, and he sneered, “That is why you shouldn’t have given her something to be accustomed to. It is cruel.”

I shook my head to clear the confusion his words had caused. They made absolutely no sense to me. Nor did he offer clarification.

All I could do was stumble to my feet while watching Mr. Rossi walk her away and take her home. The ache in my chest told me I was missing epic clues, but Sal had yet to speak, which had me concerned. I put an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close to help him walk home. “Sal, I need to hear you speak so I can stop worrying.”

As we walked, he didn’t fight my embrace, but his expression remained stoic. “I’m sorry, Angelo.”

Watching Noemi fade from my sight, I tried to tease him, “These are the first words you are speaking to me?”

“They are the ones you deserve. That night, when you wanted her to talk, I am sorry I stopped you.”

My heart began to thunder. “Sal, do I need to go to her right now? What is it?”

He shook his head. “No, leave her be. Her family—” He stopped talking and shook his head again.

“Sal, are they cruel to her?”

He exhaled so heavily. “You could say that.”

“Enough,” barked my father. “Her reputation is on the line. If you care for the girl at all, you will never speak of her again. Gift her your secrecy.”

It was a very hard goodbye to swallow, but I was too young to know there was an option. I had yet to see the world and learn the Giordanos didn’t rule all. I felt letting Noemi go and live her life, what we always knew was coming, was for the best. Maybe that way she could be rid of the family Sal was so worried about.

The brilliant matriarch of my family was pacing in front of our home until she saw me and Sal slowly walking toward her. Mrs. Rossi grabbed her chest. “My boys.” The way her feet kept partially lifting off the ground, but not taking a step, told me how hard she was restraining her natural urge to run to us.

Mrs. Rossi was allowing us to be the men she had raised.

She was right to do so. It was another pivotal point in my young life. I had to turn another corner and face what was next. I had surrendered my soul to a little girl, and she needed someone to finally find her and bring her home.

My eighteenth birthday came and went, but it wasn’t until Sal’s eighteenth birthday that we both received a delivery that would concrete our path. Two very expensive tailored black suits hung on our closet door. Sal and I sat at the edge of our beds—which were now barely big enough to keep us off the floor—and stared at our future. Neither of us smiled.

The suits were supposed to be symbols of what we had worked so hard for, but they felt more like promissory notes to the dark side. Of what? Sal and I still weren’t sure, but again, we were left with little choice. So, side by side, we stood and accepted our fate, putting on the first of many black suits we would own.

As soon as the white cloth of the button-down shirt hit Sal’s shoulders, he was hooked. “I’ve never owned silk before. It is so soft I may sleep in it.”

He wasn’t lying. We may have been becoming the Devil’s spawn, but damn, the cloth was at least exquisitely comfortable.

He complained, “I still do not believe your shoulders are wider than mine.”

Nothing needed to be said because numbers don’t lie, nor did our tailor when we were fitted for the expensive suits. I only smiled at my reflection in the mirror above our dresser.

“I do not appreciate your smug attitude.”

“Nor that I require more room here, too?” I palmed my clothed cock.

“Now that is a lie!”

It was, but it was also fun to rile him, and we needed a distraction. Both our fathers were back on the road, unsuccessfully searching for Scarlett, and not here for our first official day of being a Suit. Maybe they couldn’t stomach what their decisions brought onto their sons’ widening shoulders. Maybe they were obsessed with rescuing a child that was now thirteen. In Italy, that made her practically a woman, gaining many responsibilities at the home front. I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of responsibilities were placed on her shoulders, all alone. And were grown men watching her grow and develop? Wanting more than they should?

Constantly, I had to push such thoughts from my mind to stay sane and find more distractions when not with Isabella, digging for any resurfacing memories. When with her, and with Mr. Giordano’s permission, I wore normal clothes. It seemed to help relax her.