Page 33 of Their UnBearable Destiny

Chapter Nine

Damiano’s Bakeryhad always been a fond memory of his. The smell of freshly baked bread and the taste of homemade butter slathered on its side had been a delicious inducement to keep him attentive and quiet during the informal meetings that occurred in the front of the shop.

A look about the room gave him a new perspective. Gone were the days of sitting on the table, kicking his legs out over and over as he ate the sample of bread that Mr. Damiano never seemed to run out of.

As an adult. As the representative for the Orsino family, he had a new reason to be here, but remaining somewhat ignorant of the topics on the list for discussion. He was sure it was a way for Alfonse to hold onto the control of the meetings for as long as possible. Something he didn’t begrudge the man who had stepped in and up to care of their concerns while they’d been gone.

But even that patience was wearing thin. Standing along the wall, Uberto had left the chairs in the room for the other men to occupy. He wasn’t exactly sure how many men would be in attendance, and he would never have dreamed of occupying a chair that an elder should have for their own.

As the men entered, they walked into the room and crossed straight to Alfonse’s side.

Uberto didn’t perceive it as a slight. On the contrary, he considered it more than appropriate. Alfonse was the face that everyone saw on a regular basis. These men might not even recognize his face. The ten years that he’d been away had changed his features. Changed his attitude as well.

Something he was more than thankful for.

“Uberto?”

He felt the hesitant touch on his arm and looked up into the eyes of Ezio Bennetti. “It’s good to see you.”

Ezio nodded. “I feel much the same way.” He sighed, a soft sound that sounded almost like a memory. “I took one look at you standing here and I remembered your mother.”

The older man’s words confused him. “My mother?”

“Yes, your mother.”

Ezio’s eyes darted to a nearby chair and Uberto took the man’s elbow and walked him over and seated him against the wall.

“She was gone before you were old enough to remember much of her. Your father did his best to take care of you boys, but he had none of her sweet disposition to pass on.”

Uberto felt a strange tingling feeling behind his eyes. “My father’s disposition was anything but sweet.”

Ezio’s grin was bright and his eyes held a mischievous glint. “Truer words, son.”

The two shared a laugh before Ezio spoke again.

“Maybe that’s the way of things with a mate bond.”

The words caught Uberto’s interest. “How so?”

“Your father had power and a fire in his gut that served him well. A warrior through and through like his father before him.” Ezio’s sigh was a fond one. “But your mother was gentle and soft. She could tame your father even when he was in a rage. Her touch drew his human back to the surface, kept him whole.”

Uberto considered his words. “That sounds like Valerio.”

“That may be,” the older man explained, “but I see the three of you boys and think of how we see your parents in you.”

“As you said. I didn’t know my mother much. Maybe that’s why I can be such a boar. It’s in my nature and without my mother’s nurturing love, I have more of my father in me.”

And the thought didn’t sit well with in him.

Ezio folded his arms across his chest. “That’s not what I said, Uberto, but perhaps you’re not ready to hear it.”

Alfonse walked into the room and all of the conversations stopped. One could point to the fact that they were all of an age and from eras where civility and respect were expected.

Or there was the alternative that the men in the room knew exactly how strong Alfonse Bruno was, and didn’t want to test the man’s anger.

Who did?’

Ezio curled his fingers toward Uberto, drawing his attention and bringing him closer. “Who,” he wondered aloud, “is that?”

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