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“Tell me about your life.” I say before shoveling a mouthful of scrambled egg into it.
“You understand my life, Flora. I’m guessing your parents introduced you to it the day you were born.”
“I guess.” When I think of what that involves it saddens me because I know what it’s like for the sons of the dons and their soldiers. A long hard lesson in loyalty and family. How to kill a man slowly and painfully and never get caught. Master the art of guns and knives and study intimidation. Yes, I know only too well what his life is like, and it hurts me inside.
“What about you, Flora? How come your parents aren’t around?”
He eats but watches me through dark eyes, showcasing a thirst for knowledge of every detail of my life.
“I’d rather eat first because I don’t want to lose my appetite.” I say bitterly and he nods, knowing immediately what I will probably reveal.
For a while, we just eat. So ravenous it’s really the most important thing right now and as soon as we can’t eat another mouthful, he pours me another coffee and says firmly, “So, your parents.”
“Dead.” I shrug off any emotion that the word brings. “My mother was murdered by the don’s wife when she caught her screwing her husband. Apparently, it wasn’t the first time either. Then her husband did the same to her and started a war with Mrs. Matasso’s family. My father stayed to fight that war and, by all accounts, ended up with a bullet in his brain as a thank you.”
“What was that name?” Dom’s eyes flash as he leans forward and I say with a shrug, Matasso. Giselle Matasso was the daughter of Don Vieri, and he wasn’t too happy that his princess was murdered in cold blood.”
“Is that what you think?”
Dom stares at me hard. “Who told you that?”
My heart drops like a leaded brick as I say faintly, “Diana.”
Dom reaches for my hand and squeezes it gently. “Giselle and Carlos Matasso are alive and well and so, I believe, is your father.”
The room spins as his words register and I’m only aware I’m still breathing when he holds a glass of water to my lips and says roughly, “Drink.”
As the cool liquid slips down my throat, it brings me back to my senses and I say in shock. “What are you talking about? He can’t be. How do you even know?”
Dom regards me with pity in his eyes and says gently, “I heard from the Don only last week when my father died. He sent his condolences and offered me his support. They have always been friends of the family and Pasquale knows your father well.”
“I don’t understand.” I am so confused, and Dom lifts his phone and says curtly, “Could you come in here, please?”
He places it on the table and says with concern. “Pasquale will tell you everything. I can arrange for your father to meet you; he will have the answers.”
I’m in shock and as Pasquale enters and takes the seat opposite me, Dom fills him in, and I can almost touch his pity from where I’m sitting.
“What do you want to know?” Pasquale says kindly and I glance at Dom, who nods reassuringly.
“Dom says you know my father, Ben Corlietti.”
“I do. We work in the same field and often swap intelligence.”
“Then he’s alive.”
“Of course.” Pasquale appears concerned and I say pityingly, “Then why didn’t he find me?”
As my question hangs in the room, I feel so betrayed. My father never came for me. He must have known we were alive, where we were and if he had come for us when my grandmother died, we would never have met Mario.
Dom’s hand slips into mine and squeezes it reassuringly. “He must have had his reasons.”
“And my mother? Is she also alive?”
My voice is rough and both men glance at me with pity, causing me to stand.
“I can’t deal with this. I want to see him.”
I glare at Pasquale. “Call him.”
