Page 82 of Maddest Temptation

Then he showed me a third one. I recognized the place instantly despite the years since I hadn’t been there. The picture was taken in my family's lake house, it was night, and three figures sat on the pier; Donato, and two others I didn’t know.

Marco zoomed in on the picture, right on one of the strangers, and zoomed in until all I could see was the man’s arm.

“What is this?” I asked.

“Papa once told me that almost every mafia had its own tattoo,” he explained. “This is the Bratva’s.”

I looked at Marco beckoning him to continue. He took the phone from my hand, and quickly locked it, and shoved it back into his jeans pocket. Again, he looked around making sure no one was nearby. I realized that even if we had power, life in the Outfit was a life of always being in a constant state of alarm.

“I think Papa is up to something,” he whispered. I looked at my brother as he avoided looking at me.

I couldn’t believe those words were coming from his mouth. Ever since I moved away, my greatest fear was that I would lose my brother. Savio had always been a lost cause, we were never truly siblings, but Marco was mine, as I had practically raised him. As I looked at him now, I had no shadow of a doubt that he was still the same little boy I knew.

“Why me?” I whispered as well, suddenly catching up with what he was telling me and what he was here for.

“I don’t…I don’t know who to trust, he’s my father, and I owe him my loyalty, but Cassio is our Capo, and I know I owe him my loyalty, too. I can’t just…” He sighed slouching on the bench. “I don’t know if it’s all in my head or if something is really going on between Father and the Russians. I can’t just simply take this to either of them. This isn’t exactly proof, and even if it were, how could I betray our own family? Our name.” He looked at me and I saw his despair. “I want to make them proud.” He practically whined.

In this moment I watched as the mask of the man he was trying to be, fell and in its place was a child who so desperately sought to prove himself.

I pulled him so that he faced me, I didn’t give a damn if Donato’s men saw us. “I can’t offer my opinion because you know it’s going to be biased. I can’t tell you what to do because it’s up to you to choose. You know what Donato has done and you know what kind of a man he is,” I spoke. “Either way, no matter what happens or what you choose to do, I will always be here. You can always come to me. I don’t care if Donato threatens to hurt me, if anything happens, you come to me. Do you understand?”

“Francesca, I can’t.”

“Bullshit, of course you can. Look at me, Marco, I’m already screwed, what more could happen?” A lot. My conscious answered, but I pushed it away. “I hope it’s nothing, maybe it’s just business.” And I did, no matter how much I hated Donato, he was still my brother’s father and Marco still cared for him. Not only that but if something happened to my father, Marco would be the one to suffer the consequences one way or the other.

“He was Russian, Francesca.” He chuckled bitterly.

“It doesn’t matter, what matters is that whatever you choose to do, I will be there with you. Okay?”

He seemed to ponder it for a while and then he nodded his head a couple of times. Instantly I felt as if the muscles on his shoulders relaxed.

“I have to go. Papa must be coming home.” Marco stood up. I stood as well, and we were both stuck in that awkward moment, unsure of what to do. He took the first step and began to head away. Suddenly he turned and smiled under his cap.

“I like this version of you,” he confessed and walked away.

I wished I knew which version he was talking about.

23

FRANCESCA

It had been days since I had seen or heard from Cassio. It seemed that our little liaison ended before I had the chance to do so. I was grateful, really, I was. Happy even. Cassio must have felt the same way I did about what we were doing. I wasn’t angry at him, I really wasn’t. It was all fine.

Great even.

Instead of wallowing in my misery or staring at my phone waiting for at least a message from him, I dressed up, picked up my keys, kissed Reggie good night, and decided to explore Chicago’s nightlife.

I hit the Magnificent Mile and pretended I was a tourist seeing Chicago for the first time in my life. I stopped by some shops and took my time trying on clothes I knew I wouldn’t buy but did so anyway. In the end, my resolve ended in the third store I entered, and I ended up buying some new dresses that fit me better than the ones I owned.

When I was done, I did something I hadn’t done since the day of my wedding. I visited the 4th Presbyterian church which was on the neighborhood. I sat there on my own in the silence of the house of God, and for the first time in a while, I was grateful. I had incredible friends, I was seeing my brother again, and my mother was finally getting better. She was even bumped up on the transplant list, which meant she might get one soon. I was getting treatment, too. Visiting the therapist and the psychiatrist were some of the best choices I’d made this year.

My mind instantly traveled to Cassio, how, despite it all—our fights, our past, and my initial hatred of him—I was thankful for him, too. He’d helped me in more ways than I could count. Not to mention sex, which for the first time was something I enjoyed.

Sorry, God.

I looked at the cross and begged for his forgiveness, but it was better to tell the truth, right? God wouldn’t want me to lie. Sex with Cassio was beyond words, something I couldn’t begin to explain. He made me feel like I was special. Cherished. Like my body was the only one he wanted to worship.

When thoughts of him clouded my mind, I left the church, cheeks blazing. A priest passed me by, and I swore he could tell what sins I had committed. I rushed out of the church and headed toward Navy Pier where I enjoyed an ice cream and watched a dance group perform on the square.

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