AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I’m a sensible man. And you’ve let your emotions run rampant, which is exactly what I taught you not to do. You need to figure it the fuck out.”
“Jesus, what is wrong with you! I came from a family incapable of love, and even I know this isn’t right! You . . . you are all wrong.”
Ray straightened his tie and sat down again, his breaths coming fast. “I don’t want a child. I don’t need obligations, and neither do you.”
“Ray, we don’t hate each other. We get along—”
“Us again, Taylor? There. Is. No. Us. There’s an arrangement, a contract. And until I decide to fuck you again, I don’t want to see your face. Understood?”
All I felt for him threatened to die away at that moment.
“You are going to hell.”
He flipped a page and picked up a pen. “I’m packing my bags, kitten.”
I stalked toward his study door as my stomach churned then looked back at him one last time in a plea. “Ray?”
His face was pale, and his eyes weren’t focused. “I can’t do it. I can’t. Please just get the fuck out.”
A few days after I had arrived, I’d rejoined Donato at his bakery before sunrise to help him open. He’d seemed pleased at my reappearance. In need of answers, I decided to ask questions as he rolled out a table full of dough, but he beat me to the punch.
“You have questions, Bella?” He peeked over at me expectantly with a freshly made batch of dough.
I nodded. “How do you know Daniello?”
“I am family. His father married my brother’s daughter.”
“You are his great uncle?”
Donato nodded. “His mother, God rest her soul, was not happy in Egypt. She wanted to return home, and so his father brought them here.”
“Them?”
“Daniello and Matteo.”
“Matteo?”
Donato punched the dough with his fist. “His brother.”
Daniello had never mentioned a brother. All of his stories in Italy had consisted of him and Rocco.
Donato’s kind eyes scrutinized me. “You did not know of him?”
I shrugged. “Like you said, he is a private man. I don’t know anything.”
In an attempt to hide my sulk, I kept busy with the dough.
“Matteo is a very painful subject for him. Daniello was only eleven months old when his brother was born. They were very, very close.”
“What happened?”
“Amon, his father, made them join the Egyptian Army, and Matteo was killed. He was slaughtered by a commanding officer in front of Daniello, and he left the army a changed man.”
My body tensed in recognition as I thought of Daniello and the hard edge he carried with him. The guard he rarely dropped. The anger that radiated from him, the grudge his eyes held. When Daniello spoke of his childhood, even his memories with Rocco, the stories were laced with happiness. I’d pictured a world of beauty and adventure like he had described, so very far from the childhood I’d lived.
Donato paused. “I have said too much.”
“Not at all,” I said while I began to braid some dough. “What about Rocco?”
