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“Nadia. My point is I’m not him. I grew up. Got into trouble and got the shit beaten out of me . . .” He smiles when he says this. “And found my new family. But it’s not . . . not your life. It shouldn’t be. It’s violent and dangerous, and I do things.”
I should be furiously angry at him. Not for the fact he won’t discuss why he crushed me and betrayed my father. Why he left. There’s anger in his voice when he deflects from that. I don’t even care about what he’s saying about his life now.
I know him.
Who he is.
The man he is.
That doesn’t change.
Not with Diego.
I loved him then, even after he hurt me, and I think I might still love him now. Not that it means anything. Loving Diego doesn’t mean I’ve got a chance, because this man who’s in control of himself, so sure, has more armor than the angry boy I fell for.
“You’re a decent man, Diego.”
He gives me a look that’s pure irritation. “I work for the fuckin’ mafia.”
“Really?” I pull my foot free and set my glass down. I go to the bathroom and come back with the first aid kit. “As an enforcer. Which is . . . what?”
“I protect, I break heads, bones, sometimes kill. I make sure no one touches Blake, Mia, or Scarlett. Or Blake’s kids. They’re De Luca women. Avah too. And by women, I mean they’re with members of the family.”
“You love them.”
“Yeah. Guess I do. But I’m not decent.”
I just nod, letting the information sit as I open the box and start to clean him up.
He swats at my hand, wincing.
“Big baby.”
“I don’t need that shit, Nadie.”
“You do, and sit still.” He sighs heavily. “Want to know what I think?”
“Do I get a fuckin’ choice?”
“No.”
“Well, then.”
“Maybe,” I say, aware of just how close I am to him, “you do things people call bad or illegal, but I know you and you always do the right thing.”
“Always?”
“Mostly. You’re not a saint.”
“Uh huh,” he says softly, letting me turn his face to get to one of the cuts. When he turns back, we’re closer still, and my heartbeat speeds up.
“Yes,” I whisper, “and I know if you work for the mafia, then your De Lucas are better than those people tonight.”
“You’re saying they’re like pious fuckin’ nuns?”
“Yes.”
“It’s an image.”
