No. No, I don’t understand at all. I feel as if I’m in an upside-down world where everything I’ve ever known has ceased to have meaning, even as my own mind warns me that he could be playing me with the classic “good cop, bad cop” routine.
Still… I should take him at his word. And I realize, for the first time… I want to. I want to trust him, to trust someone. I want that deep, abiding connection I’ve only ever fantasized about, even if that means ignoring every part of me that resists getting close to someone.
“I understand,” I whisper, and hope this time I mean it.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Mario
I’ll have to play this very, very carefully.
If I don’t handle it right, my brothers could steamroll the fuck out of this. And I might need to prove myself to them, but not at the cost of hurting Emma.
Emma.
Why does it feel so much more personal when you know someone’s name?
The way she holds my injured hand in her lap and looks at me as if it’s physically painful for her to see me in pain…
The way she bites her lip when I tell her where I’m taking her…
She knows who I am and where we’re going, but hasn’t made a move yet to change a damn thing. To tell me the truth.
We’ll know more soon enough.
I wish I didn’t feel this overwhelming urge to protect her. Goddammit, why am I so fucking in love with the female of the species? Why? It would be so much easier if I could just be… detached. Aloof.
If I didn’t fucking care.
But then again, if I didn’t care, she wouldn’t be here right now. Life would be meaningless and purposeless if I just didn’t give a shit.
I know that I should probably be angry with her. I know that I should be stricter, that I should be prepared to take her prisoner, that my loyalty should be to my family above all. And if I’m honest, the reason why I haven’t earned the respect of my brothers is because I do have a tendency to be soft and I know it. But this time, I know she’s crossed the line. And something in me, deep down in my gut, tells me this woman is in danger. And I’m not the greatest of her worries.
When we drive up to The Castle I watch her reaction. She says that she knows who we are, but does she really? Does anyone really?
“Oh my God,” she whispers. “This place is…”
“Opulent? Ostentatious? Over the top? A bit much?“ I tip my head to the side.
She gives me a half-smile, but shakes her head. “Not exactly what I was going for, no. It’s more… imposing.”
“It’s definitely imposing, I’ll give you that.”
“You live here?”
I shrug. “We all technically live here. We all have rooms in The Castle, and always have. But we all have private residences in other areas as well. I have a place closer to the car shop in Rockport. Romeo has a few condos in downtown Boston, and Orlando does too. Tavi prefers to go to Tuscany. In fact, until recently most of his time has been spent in Tuscany instead of here. Santo and Rosa also have a place in Tuscany. We have a family home there as well. You didn’t know that?”
She shakes her head, but doesn’t comment.
I’d have guessed our residences would be something that would come up in a search for my family. Maybe she was looking for something else.
When we come to a stop, the front door flies open, and Natalia comes running out to greet us. She’s dressed, as usual, in a hot pink dress with billows of glittery fabric, her hair done in braids. When she grins at me, she’s missing a front tooth.
“Uncle Mario!” she shouts. “Save me from the dragon!”
I hear a growl and the sound of heavy feet falling. Natalia screeches, clearly reveling in the chase. Santo, on all fours, his full beard practically touching the floor, comes growling out the door, chasing after her.
“You wouldn’t be chased by the dragon if you’d gone to bed when your mother told you to,” he chides in a very dragon-like voice. When he sees us, he gives me a lopsided grin and gets to his feet, grabs Natalia by a glittery cape, and yanks her inside. “Off to bed now, before you turn into a pumpkin.”
I cringe. “Is mixing fairy tales a thing like mixing metaphors? Because if it is, dude, you are so there.”
Santo’s smile freezes when he sees me open the door to the car and let Emma out.
“You brought us a guest, brother,” he says.
Emma shivers, as if half expecting Santo to bare pointed teeth.
“I did, and we need to talk as soon as possible.”
I hear a woman’s voice from just inside the door, likely either Rosa or Mama’s, as Santo hands Natalia off. It is way past her bedtime, but as the eldest grandchild, she often gets away with murder.