Page 50 of The Forbidden Husband

Enzo Rissi

I looked down at the headstone and ground my teeth involuntarily.

Too fucking soon.

I lost my parents too fucking soon, but it couldn’t be unexpected when we walked hand-in-hand with death every single day.

Uncle Giovanni crouched beside me, resting a hand on top of his brother’s grave. I was beyond tears, but the rage of the situation still fueled me. The Russians and their conflict had taken an undertone to the internal turmoil of our world. Dad wouldn’t want his death to go without vengeance, but it would have to wait.

We couldn’t lose both him and Uncle Giovanni so close together. Everything would fall apart.

“He wouldn’t want us spending a whole Saturday morning here,” Uncle Giovani said, patting the headstone as if it were the shoulder of an old friend. “Do you have anything you want to say?”

“He can’t hear me.”

Uncle Giovanni scoffed. “No good catholic boy would believe that.”

“I’m not a boy anymore. If God were here, none of this shit would have happened.”

He stayed silent as I tucked my hands into my pockets and envisioned him lying beneath the too-green grass. He had died one year from today. One year ago, the Russian mafia massacred him and his wife, and no excuses from the Petrov boss would get me off their ass.

He had killed the late Petrov boss, so Anton had every reason to want him dead. It wasn’t a coincidence that it had happened.

“There’s always a sequence of events that happen after a death, and I like to think that sequence brought us more light than darkness,” Uncle Giovanni spoke softly. “Aria seems to be a part of that bright light. Am I wrong?”

My dad and Lia’s deaths were the direct reason Aria had been brought to me, but I still rolled my eyes. “There’s not a reason for everything. Sometimes, things happen that just really fucking suck.”

“And then good things happen afterward to balance them out.”

I wanted to shrug off the bullshit he spewed, but he was right. Aria was a bright light. One that I hadn’t expected, and one that I certainly didn’t deserve.

“I’m going to go and wait in the car. Tell your old man about her.”

Before I could reply, Uncle Giovanni was a few steps away and going quickly. I stared at the headstone again, feeling ridiculous as I crouched down. I didn’t believe he could hear me, but if he could…

“If you can hear me from wherever you are in hell, I’m sure you’re privy to what’s been going on in life. You probably know all about the little Bianchi girl.” I paused, and her smile flashed in my mind, warming something. “She’s a good woman, Dad. She’s better than I deserve, and I know that. I tried remembering everything you told me about my mother, and I kept my distance, but I can’t do that forever. With her, it’s easy to be drawn in. It’s… God, would you listen to me?” I said with a chuckle. “Talking to a fucking rock about relationship shit.”

I looked around, feeling foolish for talking to myself in an empty graveyard.

But as I went to stand, a breeze whipped in front of me, and I hesitated. There was more I wanted to say to my dad, and I didn’t know if he could hear me. I doubted it. But I needed to say the words.

“You told me to stay away from women. You told me that they are traitorous and unable to be trusted. It was your biggest regret in your life, and you wanted to make sure I didn’t make the same mistakes as you. But then you found Lia, and you two were happy together. You loved one another, even if you were scared to ever say it. Aria is like Lia. She’s honest and kind. She’s been through some shit because of Alonzo, and I’m going to take care of that. But…” I exhaled and shook my head, standing. “I’m doing the opposite of what you always told me to do, and I’m sorry. But, Dad. I love her.”

I love her.

I hadn’t expected the words to leave my lips, but when they had, I couldn’t say anything else. I was speaking my truth. I was telling him everything, so it had to be true.

It felt true.

I turned without even saying goodbye to my father.

When I reached the car, I glanced over at where Giovanni smoked a cigar. He offered it to me, but I waved him off. I needed a clear head.

“This isn’t just an arranged marriage anymore,” I told Giovanni.

“I could tell.”

I didn’t bother asking him how. Giovanni had a way with these kinds of things. “We’re going to take out Alonzo and his cronies, and I’m going to spend a long time butchering him.”

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