Page 55 of The Don's Dilemma (Caprice Langden)

He shrugged. “Vaffanculo.” And then he smiled even wider.

I didn’t, and still don’t, have a temper. I give the credit to my sweet mother. But that night, I fucking lost it. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was getting the crap beat out of me in a dark parking lot. Or maybe it was that goddamn smile...but I went off on the bastard.

“What did you say to me?” I walked right up to his ugly face. “What. The. Fuck. Did you say to me?”

And he laughed.

Once.

Maybe it was the alcohol.

Or the anger.

But I barely remember the next few minutes. I punched him wherever I could land one. I remember trying to avoid the knife, but I also remember he wasn’t as aggressive with it as he was with his fists. But when I’d taken one too many blows to the gut, my instincts took over. A guy never kicks another guy in the dick - that’s a chick move for self-defense, but as I was rolling on the ground, trying to get back up before he could kick me again, I grabbed a chunk of cement that had broken off the concrete edging around the parking lot. He took a step closer, and I jumped to my feet with that chunk in my hand and hit him between the legs with it as hard as I could. He grabbed his junk with one hand and started swinging the knife with the other as he fell to his knees, gurgling something unintelligible. I tried to move out of the way, but I wasn’t quite fast enough. The knife slid along my waistline, creating the neat little scar I carried to this day, a reminder of the night my father sent an unknown goon he’d just bailed out of prison to welcome his son to manhood.

I passed his test.

I took my beating and gave more than I got.

I didn’t call for help, like I needed those chicken shits who set me up.

I didn’t cry or complain.

I waited for those assholes to get back to the car, standing over the groaning man as blood from my wound trickled through my fingertips.

I’d made my father proud that night, but I never understood why.

To this day, I didn’t understand why he did it. What if I hadn’t jumped out of the way? What if that guy had gotten a lucky punch in? What if I had hit my head on the broken cement block?

“Gabriel?”

I blinked into the encroaching darkness of the room as Suzanne’s soft voice took me out of my memory. My body was tense; my fists clenched at my sides as I struggled to remove myself from the dark place.

Suzanne leaned over me and kissed me lightly on the cheek. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up a bad memory.”

This wasn’t her fault. It was mine. I kept those memories buried for a reason. That was one of the places I went when I needed to channel the rage, when I needed a reason to be a bad man...

When I had to live up to the legacy that was left for me.

“It was a long time ago. It’s fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

She tried to touch my face, but I pushed her hand away. It was the reaction going to those memories always brought forth. Distance. I needed my space now.

But I didn’t want to hurt her either, so I slowly pushed her hand to my chest.

“I’m fine,” I reassured her. “It’s just one of those things that happened on a night when a guy had too much to drink and did something really stupid. That’s all.”

Her eyes said she didn’t believe me, so she did the only thing she could do. She let it go. “Okay. We’ll just leave the past where it belongs, then.”

“Agreed.” I forced a smile to my face, then opened my arms, hoping she’d lie back down, and the questions would stop for a while. The man those memories had built was the man holding her in his arms now. I needed time and solitude to put him back in the dark where he belonged.

“Get some rest,” I whispered in her ear as I rolled her over. “I’m going to take a shower, then maybe we’ll go out or order room service. Whatever you want to do.”

She grabbed the plush down comforter and wrapped it around her body as I stood up. Conveniently, she yawned and snuggled into the blanket. “If I’m not up in an hour, you decide.”

What she didn’t know... was that I already had.

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