“I never thought of it like that. So, do you have lots of people who really know you?”
Bran chuckled. “I have three siblings, so pretty much. Killian, Quinn, and Ronan.”
The name finally clicked. “Wait a minute, you mean to tell me you’re Bran O’Connor. From the notorious O’Connor family? I knew I’d heard your name. So, you and Nikolai bonded over hating my father?”
Bran laughed. “A little, maybe.”
I tapped my lip, considering everything I knew about that family. “Your brother Ronan is a criminal defense attorney, right?”
“The best.”
“And your eldest brother, Killian. Isn’t he in prison?”
“He is and has been for a while. He doesn’t play well with others. Ronan is working on getting him out, though. I’m sure we’ll all be sitting around eating dinner again soon enough.”
“And your sister?”
“My sister’s only twenty-one. You’d think that’d be too young to cause problems, but she’s the real troublemaker in the family. You’d like her.”
“Is that right?”
Bran nodded. “And how’s your brother? Renato De Sanctis… does he sleep well at night, considering what happened to you and Leo?”
I glanced at Bran. There was judgment in his eyes that I couldn’t face. “No. Neither of us do, but it doesn’t change anything. You wouldn’t understand, unless you grew up with my family. Honor, respect for your father, for the don, knowing your place… it’s ingrained in us from birth. Written in the blood. Italians don’t go against blood easily.”
Bran nodded. “You’re blood, too. Leo’s blood.”
I swallowed hard. I had no way to make him understand the number that Antonio had done on Renato. How he’d taught him to push people away, to stay cold and aloof, and locked inside. People were a weakness, and the only way to avoid that weakness was not to care about anyone. My brother was fucked in the head, just as much as I’d been, the little bird with clipped wings. Renato was worse, probably, because he’d been around it longer.
“Well, what is it Nikolai says? Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.”
I smiled. “It’s Tolstoy, fromAnna Karenina.”
Bran sighed. “Figured it would be some depressed Russian, writing that shit. I’ve never seen someone read as much as Nikolai. It was all he did in prison. Well, that and wreaked havoc on the gen pop.”
“Naturally.” I found myself smiling at the very thought of Nikolai, reading away the time, escaping into books like he had when he was young.
The doorbell chimed softly, and Bran straightened. “I’ll get it. Let’s see if daddy Angelo believes you have a new boyfriend.”
He disappeared through the house just as Leo came down the stairs.
“Dinner. Wash your hands.”
“I already did!” He got into his little chair at the end of the table.
Chiara rushed into the kitchen. “Holy hell, girl. When you do something, you really do it. I thought you’d clean your pipes with the hot Irishman, not bring him home to Leo.”
She pulled me close and kissed me on both cheeks. Her eyes widened dramatically as she held on to my shoulders. “Is he as hot in bed as he looks like he’d be? Blink twice for yes.”
“ZiaChiara!” Leo called, waving from the dining area of the open-plan kitchen.
She turned and plastered an innocent smile on her face and waved to Leo.
“Hello,tesoro, I’ve missed your cheeky face.”
Angelo appeared, looking back over his shoulder as he went. Suspicion and caution were written across his features as he stared hard at Bran.
The man himself ambled toward me and draped an arm across my shoulders. “Well, love, have you told them all about us?”