Page 139 of Forced Vows

This time my underboss shakes his whole upper body and then nods. "First, I'm talented."

There's no arrogance in his voice. It's not smug like it usually is when he's right about something. It's just matter fact, maybe a little sad.

Two questions fight for supremacy in my brain. The first, can I see? The second, what was the second thing?

I decide to find out what that is first. "So, what else did he discover about you?"

"I have a weakness that could be exploited if anyone else found out about it. As much as he wished I didn't have it, my father understood the obsession."

"He did?" The studio says yes, but Miceli's belief his painting is a weakness says no.

"This was my father's space before it became mine. We shared it until his death."

I look around me. Having a hard time picturing the merciless don I heard about while I was growing up as an artist. And maybe that's the point. The reason both he and Miceli felt the need to hide that side of themselves.

Sensitivity is not considered a strength for a made man, especially one in a position of leadership. Having an artist's soul? Also, not a benefit.

Is my heart cracking right down the center at the thought of Miceli hiding this part of himself behind the extreme security this place has? Yes.

"Not even my mother knows about this place." Miceli looks at me like he's willing me to understand the silent message in his gaze.

I don't. What is he trying to tell me? Why does it matter that he hasn't told anyone else in his family?

Then the truth crashes down on me like a falling brick. His dad never told his mom. Not about himself or their son. But Miceli is telling me. I'm in on the secret.

The walls erected around my heart against this man are shuddering from the direct hits they're taking.

"Why is being an artist so bad you have to hide it even from your mom and siblings?"

"It's an obsession. I cannot stop drawing. Or painting. Neither could my father. Anything with that strong of a hold on you is a weakness."

Hearing those words is painful because isn't love like an obsession?

Even if my heart falls beneath the onslaught of this man, his heart will always remain aloof.

He has one obsession, he'll never let himself have another.

"I don't see how an enemy could exploit your need to create. It's not like it's going to stop you from doing what you have to do to further the interests of your mafia."

I should know. I'm one of those things he has to do.

"People believe artists are sentimental. Emotional. That they are more susceptible to allowing their emotions to control them."

"There is no way anyone would ever believe that of you," I assure him.

"Maybe. Maybe not. But I am taking no chances. I am the underboss."

"Ares, the God of war. You are your brother's right arm. The one that holds the weapon." But that night in Portland, Ares was my lover.

Because Ares and Miceli are the same guy. Does he realize that?

"Just like my father, my brother is capable of doing whatever he has to keep our enemies under us. But until now it has been my job to do that for him." He pauses and then adds, "In most cases."

I wonder what those exceptions are. Will Miceli ever trust me enough to tell me? The trust he's showing tonight blows me away.

Is his trust and lust and commitment enough when I feel my heart filling with that obsession we all know is love?

Something else he said snags my attention. "What do you mean until now?"

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