AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"You want a coffee?"
"I’d love one," he said, and I handed him a cup. He leaned on the counter and took a sip. He took his coffee black and bitter, just like me. I eyed him over the top of the cup, wondering if it was my business to ask about why his house was so empty of any mementos of anyone else. Maybe he didn’t want to talk about it.
But, hell, he had seemed unbothered by my judgment the night before—maybe he wouldn’t mind if I just tried it again now? I was curious, and it wasn’t as though the two of us hadn’t shared a whole hell of a lot already.
"Can I ask something?" I wondered aloud.
"Of course."
"Why aren’t there any pictures in here?" I asked him, gesturing around. "I mean, of people, that is. Your friends, your family..." I trailed off. I couldn’t read his expression and couldn’t tell if he was pissed at me bringing it up.
"Sorry," I muttered, shaking my head. I didn’t want to push him. I wasn’t sure what he would do when he felt like he wasn’t in control, and I didn’t want to find out.
"It’s fine," he murmured, voice low, but I could tell from the tone it was a sore spot. He took a deep breath.
"I don’t like being reminded of my family if I can avoid it," he replied. "I already run my father’s business. I don’t need to come back here and see him everywhere I turn, too."
"He passed?”
"Recently," he replied. "Nearly a year ago now, but it feels shorter than that."
"I know what you mean," I replied. "My...my parents died—a few months ago. That’s why I came back here."
He reached for my hand and touched it lightly. It was just a small gesture, but it made a lump form in my throat. I wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like he really knew my parents or anything about my family. But maybe he felt the same things I had—no matter how different our family businesses might have been, perhaps he could feel some of the pain I was struggling with right now, the pain that sometimes felt as though it might never go away.
"It’s hard, isn’t it?" He murmured. "I know it is for me. I can’t handle having the reminders of him around. It’s still too...raw. And besides, I’m certain he’d be telling me I was doing a terrible job if he was here."
He smiled, slightly sad. I cocked my head to the side.
"What do you mean?”
He shrugged. "He was never that impressed with how I did things," he said. "He always had it in his mind that everything needed to be handled a certain way, and if it wasn’t...yeah, he was never the kind to keep his mouth shut about it and just let it happen."
"That sounds tough," I remarked.
"It’s what I’ve always known," he replied casually. "Not like I had much of a choice but to step up and take over the business."
"The...the criminal one?" I asked fretfully. I was still trying to wrap my head around that part. I knew it was part of his life, but how could someone who otherwise seemed so...normal be involved in the Mafia?
"Yeah, that one," he chuckled, amused by my reaction. "You’re still freaked out by it, huh?"
"More freaked out that my brother decided to work with you," I muttered, shaking my head. That said, it was starting to make more sense to me now that I had spent a little more time with Scott myself; I could see why Mark would have been drawn in and trusted him. If I hadn’t gotten the inside scoop on the truth of his work, I would never in a million years have guessed what he did. He just seemed too smooth, too cultured, too together to ever get into something like that.
Maybe he hadn’t had a chance.
"Did you ever think about doing anything else?" I wondered aloud. "Not working with your dad, I mean?”
He shook his head.
"Never crossed my mind," he replied. "Not that I had much of a chance. I’m his only kid. I was always going to step up and take over when he passed. Just didn’t expect it to happen so soon."
I eyed him for a long moment, looking at him intently. I wanted to know just how much of this was his choice. Maybe, because I felt so attracted to him, I wanted to believe there was some other side to him, another side that hid behind this exterior. So many people in this city were probably scared shitless of him, but when I stood in front of him, I couldn’t find that fear in myself. Even though I likely should have, he was just a guy I liked, a guy I really liked, sipping on a coffee while I stood there in his kitchen, wearing an old shirt of his that felt almost as good on my skin as he did. It was difficult to imagine he was anything other than that.
"So you don’t want to see your dad every day, huh?" I remarked, gesturing around the house again. "Don’t want to be reminded of losing him, or...?"
"That’s part of it," he agreed. "But it’s more to do with running the business. I know it’s not good enough for him. I can just feel that. Seeing him around here, it’s just going to remind me of that. Of how I’m not going far enough for him."
"You really believe he would feel that way?"
