Page 54 of The Beast Who Begged Me

She rolls her eyes. “Are you a man of the world or not?” she asks me. “So your father loved your mother. Once she was in the ground, he looked elsewhere.”

I clench my fist, leaning in to tell this bitch where she can get off—but a hand closes over mine in warning. “What did Dad tell you about it? Specifically?”

“After you were born, he wanted to take you away and raise you somewhere else.” She shrugs. “But he stayed here in New York. I suppose he changed his mind.”

“Vincent was killed,” Caligula says. His hand tightens over mine. “That might have had something to do with it.”

“Perhaps.” She looks toward the restaurant, as though this has gone on long enough.

“How long after Vincent Orsini died did you leave New York?”

“I don’t remember,” she says, clipped. “Really, Caligula, I have nothing more to⁠—”

“Did Nonno Lou know Dad intended to leave with Vincent?”

“I’ve no idea.” She pulls her coat closer. “Your father and I did not discuss these things in detail, and as I told you, Caligula, I was never part of the business.”

“You’re a very pragmatic woman, Larissa,” he says. “I hope you’ve enjoyed your life.”

She smiles as though understood. “I have. Yes, I have. I hope you will enjoy yours even half as much.”

Caligula lets out a little puff of air that sounds like he’s been punched in the gut while laughing.

“It’s too cold out here,” she says, pulling her fur coat tight around her throat. “Let’s go back in.” We follow her to the glass doors, where she pauses and takes his hand. “I want you to know that I did try to reach out to you after…well, everything that happened. To your grandfather, and then to the others. Tiberius seemed to think I should. But I had no idea how to reach you, and Tony Stuccio was no help when I contacted him.”

“I’m sure you tried your best,” Caligula says, with a completely straight face.

“How lovely it is to see you once more,” she says serenely, and re-enters the restaurant.

Caligula pulls me back as I begin to follow. “Give me a second,” he mutters.

I could do with a second of my own. “I know my father,” I insist. “He loved my mom.”

“Jesus Christ, Dami,” he sighs. “Bisexuality exists, you know?”

“But…” I trail off, wanting to argue further, and finding I can’t.

Because there are memories, flashes and images, that would make a lot more sense if what Larissa Clemenza says is true. I came downstairs once, late, to find my father and Cesario Clemenza leaning in to each other, foreheads pressed together, smiling into each other’s eyes.

It stuck in my mind because of how rarely my father ever smiled after my mother’s death.

And the way Cesario would hug my father so tight when he left, tight and long. It wasn’t uncommon for Family members to embrace, kiss cheeks. But not…

Not like that.

And the way my dad looked at Cesario sometimes, something in it reminded me of my mother again. Because it was so similar to the way he’d looked at her. It wasn’t quite loving. Not even devotion.

There was a dark obsession in the way he looked at both of them. I’d forgotten about that until right now. If what Larissa Clemenza said is true, maybe I have a lot more in common with my father than I ever knew.

I suck in a hard breath, the cold air searing my lungs.

Caligula is watching me, his honey eyes warm in the lights of the city around us. “I’m sorry you had to find out like this,” he says softly.

“You seem pretty fucking chill with it,” I grind out. “You already knew?”

He shakes his head. “I didn’t know for sure. But I thought it might be something along those lines. It explained a few things. Like why my grandfather hated my father so much—and me. And why he encouraged so much violence against—against—” He breaks off. “He ordered a beating for Luca D’Amato once. For having the temerity to try to join our Family.”

I can’t stop a bitter smile at the news. “Didn’t work out great for Nonno Lou in the end, huh?”