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Scotch, I think to myself. “No, thank you.”
She sits down opposite me, and I inhale as I try to calm myself down. I just want to hurl abuse her way.
“I know this isn’t what you wanted,” she starts.
I clench my jaw. My eyes roam over her coffee table, and I count the candles to try and distract myself.
“I’m scared for my son,” she says quietly.
My eyes rise to meet hers. “You should be.”
Her face falls. “I know you hate me.”
“Yes… I do.”
“Please don’t take this out on him.” Her eyes fill with tears. “He needs you. He needs your support.”
“What makes you think that I would want anything to do with him?”
“He’s your brother, and you’re a loyal man. I’ve watched you grow up.”
“From my father’s bed.”
She screws up her face and I close my eyes in regret. “This is pointless.” I stand and turn to walk out.
She stands in a rush. “Don’t go, please. I don’t know how to navigate this with Giuliano. I need your help.”
I stop still.
“Hate me all you want, but please don’t turn your back on him. You are his only family. He is your brother, Enrico.”
I close my eyes, disgusted with the position I find myself in.
“Can I bring him to you? Just meet him. Please. Just once. I won’t tell him who you are. He doesn’t find out anything for another three years yet, but I do need to prepare him. When the time comes and he finds out the truth, he will turn his back on me. If he doesn’t have the love and support of his brothers, he will be all alone in the world.” Her voice cracks. “He is just a child.”
I stare at the wall in front of me.
“Please, Enrico. If not for us, do it for your father.”
I close my eyes, knowing my conscience is getting in the way of my better judgement.
“Bring him to my house on Sunday afternoon,” I say flatly with my back to her.
“Thank you.”
I stand with my back to her for a few minutes, we don’t speak, we don’t move…eventually when I can’t take the silence anymore, I walk out of the house. That is the first and last time I will ever come here.
Olivia
“So?” Natalie raises her glass my way. “Tell me everything.”
I smile at my inquisitive friend. We’re in a bar, after work, having a few drinks. Enrico is picking me up in half an hour. “About?” I ask.
She leans in and whispers, “You know…the creepy bodyguard.”
“Him.” I roll my eyes in disgust. “He’s not a bodyguard. He works for Enrico.”
“Doing what?”
