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“Of course, you must. That's why I called you. Tell them I’ll be home soon and that I’ll explain everything.”
I hang up and hand Romano his phone. I look at the priest. “You said you had a way forward for us?”
He nods. “Like I said, I spoke to Eric, and he explained why he decided not to tell Romano everything. It was his revenge for Mark's death, he wanted you to know the pain of loss. He realizes that he could have caused a greater tragedy, but that is why he did what he could by taking your weapons and arming you with an unloaded gun.”
Romano snorts, shaking his head as he looks out the window. “Che bastardo!As if I will ever recover from Mark's death. I did not need a lesson in loss, I'm already living with it daily.”
“Eric was remiss, and I hope you will give him a chance to apologize for that. He is willing to act as the mediator between the two families. You know well that the Cardinalis and the Montis are still at odds. If we are to navigate the landmine of their relationship, we shall need a party both of them trust. And Eric is what we have.”
Romano shrugs. “I have no problem if he can mediate in good faith.”
“He promised me he can. I intend to be present as well.”
“Good. So will Giada and I. I know the standard practice is that the accused is not in the room as they are discussed but these are our lives, and our input is important.”
The priest sighed, “I had a feeling you were going to say that.” he said.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-THREE
“Are you going to tell Romano about what Patrizio did to you?” Father Lorenzo asks me.
I shrug, “I’m not sure what good it would do, now that the man is already dead.”
“Yes, but keep in mind that he is likely to hear it from someone else. Too many people know about it. And if he hears it from someone else, he will feel betrayed.”
My heart sinks because I know he's right. However, the thought of discussing what that man did to me withanyone,let alone Romano, twists my stomach into knots. I don't even like thinking about it.
“Romano is not the only one that you need to tell,” Father Lorenzo continues, and I glare at him.
“Who else do I have to tell, Father?”
“A therapist. You are clearly suffering from trauma and it would benefit you to get some therapy for that.”
I snort, “isn't that what you are here for?”
“Unfortunately, I do not have the skills to help you navigate your pain. I can hear your confession, tell you that God forgives you, and hope that that is helpful in getting you to forgive yourself. But there are people trained specifically to help you deal with such trauma, and I feel strongly that you should take advantage of that.”
I give him a look. “You know full well that my family will never approve of that. One might just say too much, and the next thing you know, everyone's in jail.”
“Sexual assault has nothing to do with Cosa Nostra and everything to do with you. If you want, I can recommend someone who knows how to keep their mouth shut.”
I think about it for a minute. “Yeah okay. If they can keep their mouth shut, I will have a session or two, to help me process things.”
He smiles. “Consider it done.”
CHAPTERTHIRTY-FOUR
“Ididn’t expect it to go as well as it did.” Romano says as he unlocks the door to his apartment and gestures for me to enter.
“Yeah, me neither.” I step into his home for the first time, looking around curiously.
It's such a bachelor pad. Being an open-plan apartment, I can see just about everywhere. The space is dominated by a giant flat screen that sits on the one wall not made-up of floor to ceiling windows. Below it is a fireplace and across from the fireplace is a large l-shaped soft leather white couch. About five people could sleep comfortably on it. There's a cream-colored throw blanket slung carelessly across the back of the couch. To one side of the living space is a kitchen island, and on the other side there's a door that I can only suppose leads to the bedroom. Beside the front door, to the right, is a small corridor. I can see two doors, one on the left one on the right. Both are closed.
Romano comes to stand beside me. “Let me give you the tour,” he says. He points down the corridor. “Guest bathroom and toilet,” then points to the closed door opposite the living room. “Master ensuite.” He gestures to the rest of the space, “Kitchen and living room.” He peers upwards, “over there you might see a trapdoor, which opens into an attic that I use for my spare bedroom slash armory.”
“You keep your guns and guests together? Seems… unwise.”
He laughs. “The guns are locked away and it’s more of a safe room situation, not out in the open. Besides, only my boys stay over as guests if they’re too drunk to go home.”
