Page 66 of Mafia Star

“Probably. To the average person, they can blend in. Just like our bodyguards can. For those who know what to look for, they were a blaring siren.”

“It would have been so different if Luigi had gotten there five minutes earlier.”

Massimo just stares at me. One of those things I won’t know. It shocks me as I consider how much I learned today. Out of necessity but still. But there’ll always be a line he won’t cross. Things I can and will never know. I look at Sinead. She doesn’t appear surprised. More resigned I guess. No. That sounds morose. Accustomed.

I turn when there’s a knock on the door. Luca opens it and sticks his head in. He looks at his father and nods. Massimo stands, so Sinead and I follow. Massimo follows Sinead and me out of the room. Luca walks in front of Sinead and me, exactly between us. I don’t know how since he didn’t watch us to position himself. I get the sense Massimo is the same.

When Marco steps into the hallway followed by Gabe, it takes everything in me not to shove Luca out of the way and run to him. He has no such reserve.

“Muoviti.” Move.

Luca steps aside just in time to not have his brother knock him down. He opens his arms to me, and I rush into them. He holds me, and everything is right in the world again. I feel like I can breathe. My chest hurt the entire time I was in that interrogation room. His hand presses my head to his chest, and I close my eyes.

He whispers so softly to me I wonder if I imagine it.

“Mia piccolina.” My little girl.

“Daddy.”

It’s more like a puff of air than a word. But from the way he tightens his arms around me, I know he heard me. Neither of us kisses the other. I think we’re both keenly aware we’re in the open now, and anyone could watch us. I’m also scared to touch his face. His lips are split. His left eye is swollen. He has bruises on both cheekbones.

“Uncle Massi.”

I turn at Sinead’s voice, never having heard the nickname. I don’t get the family connection that she would call him uncle. Huh? I’ll ask Marco or Chelle later. She hands her phone to Massimo, who swipes his finger up a few times before tapping the screen twice. He gives it back to Sinead, and his expression is finally grim.

“Auntie Paola’s on the way.”

Gabe’s declaration earns him a nod from Massimo. Auntie? Am I just not remembering shit? Marco’s father steps forward, and I try to move out of the way. But Marco’s arm turns into a steel band. He at least lets me shift, so father and son can embrace without squashing me.

“Ti amo, scimmietta.” I love you, little monkey.

I understand the I love you part. Marco looks down at me as Massimo leans back but doesn’t let go. His arm is still around his son’s back, but his other hand rests on my shoulder.

“It means little monkey. Marco was always into everything. He was climbing on things he shouldn’t. He was constantly chattering. And he would wrap himself around my leg until I’d walk around the house with him like that. The name stuck.”

That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard. I picture toddler Marco, and it finally makes me truly smile.

“Bellissima cuore.” Beautiful sweetheart.

I can understand that. Marco kisses my forehead, and I close my eyes again. When I sigh, it feels like all the air leaves my body, and there’s nothing but bones. I feel like I can barely stay on my feet. Massimo backs away, and Marco envelopes me again.

“We have to get through a little more, then we’re going home, piccolina.”

Home. Where is that? Does he mean his place? I don’t even want to think about what condition mine will be in. Will they have searched his?

“If you want to go to your place, we will. If you want to come to mine, we will. But home is where we are together, little one.”

Hold it together. Now is not the time to burst into tears. I nod against his chest before I pull back. Gabriele, Sinead, Luca, and Massimo are whispering together. I can tell they’re trying to give us some privacy, but it’s not possible. The hallway is too narrow, and there are desks and offices all around us.

“Cucciolo.”

I look over Marco’s shoulder and notice a sophisticated woman with dark hair and hazel eyes is almost within reach. I remember her from the reception. She’s Carmine’s mom and Marco’s aunt. Paola Mancinelli Ciccone is a name I’ve heard before on the news, but I never paid much attention. This woman is every bit Salvatore and Massimo Mancinelli’s younger sister. She’s in a suit with her hair pulled back. Her jewelry is understated but speaks of style and wealth. Her glasses give her an edgy look that seems to reenforce that she’s here with a purpose.

“Cucciolo, come stai?”

Once again, I try to move out of the way, but Marco’s arm won’t budge. He hugs his aunt, who carefully kisses his cheek.

“What did they do to my little cub? Who?”

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