Page 93 of Possess Me
Cocking my head, I wished I could find the right words to say to her. “I do.”
“How are you going to stop Antonio?”
“Don’t underestimate me, Fallon. You have no idea what I’m capable of.”
“Maybe I don’t want to. My mother died because she loved the wrong person.”
“Yes, but not the one you’re thinking of.”
“What does that mean?”
Fuck. I hadn’t been prepared to or wanted to drop the damn bomb I’d heard only minutes before, but perhaps she should know the truth. About everything.
“That means your biological father was considered Italian royalty.”
She shrank back. “My mother left me a voicemail before she died. She called me royalty. What does that mean and why? I have a right to know.”
“That’s because you are highly valuable.”
“Who am I?” Her jaw was clenched.
I hesitated, but the agony we’d both shared because of the Bruni family was at least a cross we could bear together. “Your father was Marcos Bruni, firstborn son of Giovanni Bruni. From what my cousin, the Pakhan was able to piece together, he fell in love with your mother and left the family, changing his name in the process. He wanted no part of the life he’d been born into.”
There were no words to describe seeing someone going through an ugly reality that would forever change their lives.
Through her eyes, I witnessed exactly what I’d experienced alongside her sister all those years ago.
What I didn’t tell her was that I believed she’d been promised in marriage to someone in exchange for what always fueled the arrangements.
Power.
CHAPTER 23
Vissarian
Sleep wasrare in my world. Not because I anticipated danger every day and night, but because of being haunted by the past.
But as I’d explained to Fallon, no one could run from who and what they were forever. Especially when born into a mafia family.
I’d never been bothered about my heritage, but I’d also been born into a family full of love as well as respect.
Had my father questioned my choice in women? Perhaps, but he hadn’t been forced into doing so. I was certain he’d thought my love was nothing more than the flavor of the month given my previous behavior with women.
Perhaps Megan’s father had taught her the art of escape, something Fallon hadn’t benefitted from given her age.
When I’d asked Megan about her family, she’d told me they were dead. Maybe I’d sensed she’d been lying to me. What the hell did it matter to me now?
As I sat in the dark, my ravaged mind still attempting to process the details of what Mikhail had learned, I had no understanding of Ludolf’s reasoning for bringing me here. Except for forcing a way to bring Fallon front and center in my life without interference.
Did it really matter at this point? I had no interest in working with Ludolf and couldn’t care less that they would help us to keep the Russians and Italians at bay.
I could do that myself.
A deep exhale rattled my chest as I brought the glass to my lips and stole a quick glance at the open bedroom door. I’d insisted she try to get some rest. I remained on edge.
Whatever the game, it wasn’t over by a long shot. I took a sip and thought about the picture I’d seen with the writing on her wall. I’d brought my laptop to the table, searching to discover what I could about the death of Luis Esposito and just how powerful Antonio could be.
I’d found literally no mention of him, which meant he was a low-level soldier. Had he killed his father by request of Giovanni? Not unheard of. With Giovanni having no other children that I could find, any alliance would be predicated on an arrangement made with whatever flesh and blood existed in his family.
