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“How did you find me, Lucia?” I say annoyed.
“Franco told me you were in the city, but I already knew you would be here. How many times you going to take the bike apart and put it together?” She asks looking at me sympathetically.
Lucia has the annoying habit of playing with her hands when she is building up the courage to say something. I can see her out of the corner of my eye doing it and I can feel the irritation rip through me. My patience and tolerance have dipped considerably since that day in Brooklyn and Lucia’s sporadic appearances haven’t helped it.
“Until I’m satisfied,” I say ignoring her.
“Hiding isn’t going to make this better,” she says softly. “I think you should speak to Sophia.”
“I’m not hiding,” I say stubbornly. “And I will not fucking speak to her.”
“It might make you feel better, bottling up all of this is not good for you,” she says trying to put her arm reassuringly on my shoulder, but I shake it off.
“I feel fine,” I say throwing the wrench down hard.
“You feel nothing because you’re suppressing everything,” she says kneeling down next to me.
“You’re going to take her side?” I snap turning around to her. “She tried to have me killed.”
“I know Sophia, she wouldn’t do that, she loves you.” She sighs. “She made a mistake, Rocco, can’t you just–” She trails off.
“No, I can’t. I suppose you think that sweet Sophia wouldn’t have been engaged, either?”
“Everybody has a past.”
“She’s working with the Russians, she almost had me killed and you’re still believing the bullshit she’s feeding you? You’re dumber than you look Lucia, which I didn’t think possible.” I say spitefully.
“If she was working with the Russians, why would her own father not kill her considering he risked everything to make sure nobody found out? If you really believed that she was conspiring against you, why didn’t you kill her? Why didn’t you tell everyone what she did? This is about your pride, Rocco. She lied to you, and it hurts. Why don’t you just admit it and move on?” She says standing up and eyeing me annoyed.
“That is the problem with you, Lucia, you’re always so quick to forgive. Some things can’t be forgiven. Ever,” I say standing up to full height and looking down at her.
“Have you thought that the Russians set her up to take the fall?”
“What?” I scoff.
“Maybe they wanted to make it look like she was working for them to split you up,” she says thoughtfully. “Anything is possible, Rocco, we know that.”
“I really don’t think the Bratva care about my love life, this isn’t a fucking Telenovela.”
“Well seeing as Sophia cost Artem Romanov his sons, he probably does care just a little that she is now married to you.”
“If he wanted me dead, he would have killed me a long time ago. Stop trying to make up all these excuses. Two and two don’t equal six because you want it to,” I say angrily.
“Ifshewanted you dead, she could have literally killed you in your sleep and you know that,” she says imploringly.
“Maybe she was waiting for the right opportunity.”
“Right, so she hires two Russian men to do it for her when she has had access to guns her whole life.”
“You’re my damn sister, act like it,” I hiss at her.
“I’m only your sister when it suits you. You won’t forgive Sophia because she lied to you, and you won’t forgive your ma because she abandoned you. You probably won’t talk to me anymore because I’m telling you the truth,” she says putting her hand over her mouth with fresh tears in her eyes.
She looks up at me, her face covered in shock. Clearly, she has been waiting to say it for a while because it all spilled out like it was on the tip of her tongue. There is a deathly silence between us, an anger threatening to brim to the surface like hot water simmering in a pan.
“Get out, Lucia,” I say glaring at her.
“With pleasure,” she says, slamming the door.
