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Nunzio glared at him. “I said she wanted me.”
Carmine leaped right for him, and Vincent blocked the path when Nunzio tried to move. Swinging, Carmine’s fist barely connected with the man’s nose when Sal intervened and dragged him away.
“You’re sick!” Carmine yelled as Vincent shoved Nunzio into the counter to continue sewing him up. Sal pulled Carmine into the foyer, not letting go of him until they were near the stairs. “This isn’t right!”
“I know, Principe, but didn’t we have a conversation yesterday about feelings having no place in business? He’ll face the consequences for disrespecting your father, but this isn’t a major violation.”
Carmine stared at him hard. “So she’s worth nothing to you people? Is that what you’re telling me? Oh, who gives a fuck if he hurts a girl? She’s no one special, because she wasn’t lucky enough to be born into a powerful family!”
Sal’s expression twisted with anger, the sight of it silencing Carmine. “That girl means more than you understand, but things are black and white to la famiglia. You need to learn how to distinguish between what’s personal and what’s business. You need to learn to follow the code of conduct here”—he smacked him in the back of the head—“and quit following this so much.” He punched Carmine in the chest, over his heart. “The moment you cursed at me yesterday, I knew she’d gotten to you here”—another punch in the chest—“and you’re going to cause problems if you don’t start using this.”
A final smack to the head sent Carmine over the edge. “Quit hitting me!”
Sal shook his head. “You know I think of you as a son. I’ve always treated you like you were my own, and I want what’s best for you. I want you to succeed, to have a good life, the life you’re supposed to have. I’m not telling you not to let the girl in here”—he tapped him lightly on the chest—“but I am telling you not to let those feelings override everything else. You need balance.”
Carmine ran his hands down his face, frustrated. “I get it.”
Sal clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re enamored. These things happen, but it’s a fragile situation that shouldn’t be flaunted. Trust me when I say it’s not the time to ignore reason.”
“I just . . . I didn’t realize it was obvious.”
“It’s a complicated situation,” Sal said. “Your father has a similar problem. I’ve spent years trying to get him to recognize boundaries, but he still finds himself blurring lines.” A loud bang rang out in the kitchen, and Salvatore sighed. “Now likely being one of those times.”
* * *
Haven stared at the clock, counting the minutes as they passed. Three. Five. Eight. Twelve. Sixteen. Twenty-two.
After thirty agonizing minutes, frantic footsteps bounded into the library. Someone tried to turn the locked doorknob, but Haven refused to open it, terrified to move. Keys jingled as the door opened, and Carmine rushed into the room.
He pulled her into his arms, tears still streaming down her cheeks. She wasn’t sure how long he held her before Dr. DeMarco’s voice rang out from the doorway. “Is she okay?”
Haven’s vision was blurry, but she could make out his stern expression. He looked irate. She hoped that anger wasn’t directed at her.
“She will be,” Carmine said. “Is Nunzio gone?”
“Sal’s driving him to the airport now.”
“The airport,” Carmine repeated. “He got off too easy. I would’ve killed him.”
All was quiet for a bit, and Haven closed her eyes. She began to wonder if they were alone when Dr. DeMarco’s voice rang out once more. “I would’ve killed him, too.”
* * *
Carmine lay beside Haven in bed, brushing the hair from her face. Her cries had quieted, her face blotchy from tears. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I should’ve been here to protect you.”
o;I thought all chicks were afraid of snakes.”
“Not me.” She laughed. “I grew up with scorpions.”
“Are you afraid of anything?”
“Of course. Everyone’s afraid of something.”
“So what are you afraid of?”
She paused, considering how to answer. “Hope.”
His brow furrowed. “Hope scares you?”
