Page 43 of Thorns of Death
“Yes. I want to keep you close to me until we settle the threat.” A terse nod by both of them. “I also have news that I want to share with you.” They waited for me to continue, slight interest in their eyes. “This remains between us. Only Manuel and you two will know.”
They both straightened up, watching me attentively. Most parents liked to shelter their children until they were blindsided. I never took that approach. I let them be children for as long as I could, but once they were old enough to understand right from wrong, I kept them in the loop with things that concerned them. Like their safety. Their mother. Our family business, to some extent.
The latter was needed to ensure they stayed wary of strangers, keeping them safe from potential threats. They had guards with them at all times, but it’d be stupid not to make them aware of the dangers that came with being a Marchetti.
“I will be married soon.” Curiosity flickered in their dark eyes. Good, at least there wasn't resentment or anger. “How do you feel about that?”
Amadeo just shrugged and remained silent.
“Is she pretty?” Of course Enzo was already too interested in girls. I had already instilled in him the importance of protection—for himself and his girl—for whenever his first time happened. “Old?”
I shook my head. “Well, I think she’s pretty. And she’s older than you, yes.”
“What about—” Amadeo’s voice faltered as questions soared in his big, dark eyes. “Donatella?”
I focused on my youngest son. “What about her?” I asked carefully.
Amadeo puffed his chest. “That’s why you called us here. She’s trying to kill us again, isn’t she?”
“Yes, she’s out there somewhere,” I confirmed. “I want you safe and with me. Once I’m married, we’ll all return to the castello.”
“What are you going to do with Donatella?” Enzo asked, his voice squeaking slightly as he uttered his mother’s name. His vocal cords were going through puberty, switching from deep to high-pitched and he had no control over it. I noticed it was more prone to fluctuation when he was emotional, although he tried to hide this side of himself.
I met my son’s gaze and held it. I wished they could be spared. I’d hoped Donatella would come around and be the mother Enzo and Amadeo needed. But, like always, the woman only cared about herself. She never cared about the boys, not when they were born. Not today.
“I can’t risk her hurting you or your brother.”
Enzo turned his head away, huffing. “About time.”
His words made my chest squeeze. I wanted so desperately for them to experience their mother’s love. To know they were loved and cherished.
“I’m sorry,miofiglio,” I murmured. “If I could fix it, I would.”
Enzo gave me a terse nod and stomped away, his body emanating the energy of a twenty-year-old. Amadeo and I stared after him until he disappeared into the house.
“Don’t worry, Papà,” Amadeo assured. “He’s mad that Donatella doesn’t love us.”
I faced my youngest. “And you?”
He tilted his head pensively. Amadeo might have had a temper on him, but he was also reasonable. When his temper didn’t get the best of him, that was.
“Sometimes it’s stressful to think about a crazy woman always lurking about trying to kill us,” he admitted.
“I won’t let her harm a single hair on your head,” I vowed. “She keeps escaping the institution. Her condition must have worsened, but I don’t want either of you to worry about it.” I took my youngest son by his shoulders and pulled him into a hug. “I’m going to handle her.”
Amadeo nodded, a serious expression on his face. “I understand what you’re saying, Papà.”
The sad part was that he really did.
FOURTEEN
ISLA
Iwalked down Rue Lepic, a lively street that wound through Montmartre—from the Moulin Rouge and ending at Place Jean-Baptiste-Clément. It had been two days since I’d seen Enrico.
Reina and I struggled to balance our cappuccinos, bags full of fruits and vegetables from the market, my violin, her fashion portfolio, and our purses.
“Why don’t you text him again?” Reina asked, balancing her portfolio under her armpit while scrolling through her fashion blog on her phone.
