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“I really don’t have time to explain this to you, June. I know you came from a completely different world than this, but you need to adapt. Everything you see in this house has come with a price, and my pain is the price. Just allow me to follow through with my plan without interference,” I continue, reaching over to take her hand. It’s the least I can do to comfort her, but calming her fear can’t be a distraction for me.
“You could get an infection or go into shock from all the blood you’ve lost,” she says, lacking confidence but desperately hoping that I’ll believe her.
She’s probably right, but she doesn’t know it.
I take a deep breath in before I attempt to sit up for the last time. The breath itself is painful as hell, searing the muscle in my chest as it contracts.
Pushing myself up with every bit of strength I can spare, I look her right in the endless crystal pools of her bright blue eyes. “And if that happens, I’m so sorry that you have to witness it. But that’s life. Sometimes it sucks, and eventually, it ends. Once I’ve completed this mission, I’ll send you back home to your family, and you can try to heal from everything I’ve put you through.”
She’s unhappy with me, and I know that my explanation isn’t sufficient, but I have no more time to waste. I’m lucky that this whole ordeal was only twenty-four hours in duration, but that’s still a significant amount of time to have lost.
I’m not wearing a shirt, but I decide not to waste energy rifling through my closet for one. I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror leaning against the wall as I shift my legs to the edge of the bed. I’m extremely pale, catching myself off guard for a moment. At least now I can understand what she’s so worried about.
Just as I’m about to place my feet on the floor, June grabs my wrist and squeezes. I turn around to look at her, but she doesn’t say anything. Her eyes beg me for more time, just another few minutes that she can watch me and know that I’m safe, but I can’t abide by her wishes.
I stand up, feeling lightheaded for a few moments before I begin to walk forward. At first, I’m certain that I’m going to collapse onto the floor as my blood pressure becomes so low that it nauseates me.
My phone is still in my pocket, and I take it out to call Tommaso and Charlie. There’s no doubt in my mind that they’ve tried to call off the mission due to the shooting, so I need to make sure they know that nothing on this planet will stand in the way of me getting revenge for my brother.
It’s time for Franco to feel every atom of pain he’s caused my family, and he’ll spend his last moments hearing the screams of his closest allies.
ChapterTwenty-Six
JUNE
Watching Marcello get up out of his bed and leave in such a weakened state was one of the hardest things I’ve ever experienced. I can’t imagine how he feels, the pain he’s forced to endure as he continues onward in the life he chose for himself.
I can’t help but wonder – is it all truly worth it for him? Even though he has so much material wealth, more than he knows what to do with, there’s nothing motivating him. Sure, having nice things is one of the greatest desires of the human race. The comfort and ease that money can purchase is something that everyone aspires to.
But he needs more than that. I can see it in his eyes. He was trying to hide it from me, but deep within himself, he knows that his brush with death is a signal to him that he’s unfulfilled and needs to find meaning in life.
He still doesn’t know about the boys, and I figure that this would be the worst possible time to tell him about them. He’s so stressed from work in addition to being almost fatally injured. In addition to all of that, I have no idea how he would react to having two kids with me.
One of my major weaknesses is that I misread situations with men nonstop. Every time I believe that a man has feelings for me or at least likes me, I end up being rejected and let down. At this point in this insane chapter of my life, I’d like to believe that Marcello truly does have feelings for me deep down. The fact that he’s so in love with my body adds to this suspicion, but I should know better than to expect that lust is an analog of love.
I think that I’ll tell him on the day that I’m set to leave Italy. That way, he has the choice to keep in contact with me if he wants to take the boys on as his own, as they are. If he doesn’t, then I’ll depart, having lost or gained nothing but an unbelievable story.
A few days after the attack, I notice that Marcello’s gait has gotten more unsteady as time goes on. The color in his face hasn’t returned, and his face appears gaunt and hollow. He reminds me of the photos I used to see of addicts or anorexic women. It’s unusual for him, and it concerns me quite a bit. He’s always trying so hard to maintain his formidable persona.
“Hey, are you alright? I feel like I haven’t seen you eat a lot in the past few days. You need calories if you want to heal faster,” I say as I step into his office.
He’s hunched over his computer, and his phone is blowing up like crazy. He has at least three phones, and I never thought to ask why, though I am curious.
“Huh? Yeah, don’t worry about it. I’ve just been hyper-focused. I’ll make sure to eat soon,” he replies hastily without looking up to meet my gaze.
I know that it’s not worth fighting with him, but I can’t help feeling dismissed. My concerns for him are valid, and he should at least be willing to take my advice after I watched him almost die in front of me. He got to be unconscious while I panicked, hysterical and terrified.
The intensity of his focus starts to concern me a little. What could he possibly be pouring over that holds so much importance? Is it something that holds the potential to getmekilled? For the entire time I’ve been here, I’ve never seen him quite this obsessed with any of his missions. He even chose to forego necessary rest to continue working on it.
He’s still not looking at me, and I have to consciously shake away my hurt feelings as I slip away from the door. I close it behind me, latching it quietly in order to keep from disturbing him any more than I already have.
Maybe if I make him something to eat, he’ll feel more inclined to take it.
I head into his kitchen, and I’m able to scrape together the ingredients to make a vegetable soup. It’s light enough that it’ll be easy for him to consume while helping to balance his electrolytes. It’s probably the ideal food for him right now, so I get to work on it immediately.
For as long as I’ve been staying here, I never really got to look around the kitchen at all. It’s the kind of space that any home cook would die for, and I doubt Marcello ever even uses it. Why would he? He can consume his weight in bourbon and takeout. He’s living the dream for both menandwomen, and for that, I can’t help but be a little envious.
The soup smells incredible, and I smile to myself with pride as I scoop it into a bowl and walk it down the hallway for him. Being able to care for him in such an intimate way fills me with warmth that I want to hold onto for the rest of my life.
