Page 101 of Single Malt Drama

Giancarlo met my gaze. “I’m so sorry, Nicolina. Papà showed me the paper, and I thought…”

“It’s okay. One good thing has come from all of this.” I smiled and squeezed his fingers.

“You’re having a baby?”

Laughing, I said, “Yes, but I was referring to you and I talking for the first time.”

He winced and pulled his hand free. “I should apologize to you for that, too. We all should.”

“I don’t understand.” We’d never been close, but I’d chalked it up to our age difference.

“I was a boy when you were born. I blamed you for Mamma’s death.” He hung his head.

My throat tightened. On some level I’d known my brothers hated me because our mother had died giving birth to me, but to hear him admit it cut deep.

“Then, when you grew older…you looked so much like her, it was hard to be near you without thinking of her.”

“I look like her?” I’d only seen one photograph of my mom and it had been taken at a distance. When I’d asked to see more, my father informed me he’d had them all destroyed because it hurt him too much to see them. If the rumors were true, her death had changed him. So much so he’d threatened to kill anyone who tried to view her body.

Is that why he kept me at arm’s length? Do I remind him of her, too?

“Yes. Even your voice sounds like hers.” My brother gave me a weary smile. “Can you forgive me for the way I’ve treated you?”

I launched myself at him and hugged him tight. “There’s nothing to forgive. You were grieving. In some ways, we still are.”

He released me. “I should let you rest.”

“Giancarlo, please. Now that you know the truth, turn the plane around. My place is with Marco.”

He sighed. “I will if that’s what you want, but I wish you’d reconsider. Maria and Alessio need you in Sicily. You’re the only one who can convince our father to let them go.”

“Damn it.” How could I have forgotten them, even for a minute?

He arched a brow. “You curse now?”

“Don’t look at me like that. I’m not a little girl anymore.” I stood and paced the cabin. “You’re right. I should speak to Papá in person, but I need to check on Marco. May I use your phone?”

He hesitated.

“Please? I have to know he’s all right. The stress of not knowing is making me sick, and that can’t be good for your niece or nephew.” I’d played dirty, but I didn’t care.

“Until things are settled with Papá, you need to be careful. Ask about his health, let him know you are safe, but that’s it. Don’t say more than you need to.”

What else would I tell him?I puzzled over his reaction, and then it hit me. “You don’t want him to know you and I are on friendly terms?”

“It’s best if it seems as if nothing has changed between us.” He slumped his shoulders. “I can protect you as your enemy, but if people believe we have reconciled…”

“You’re worried someone will tell our father we’ve reconciled. What does that have to do with me calling Marco—” My heart lurched. “There’s a spy in the Marchionni family? Someone close to Marco? Is that how you found us?”

“I’ll call and check on your husband. Get some sleep, Nico.”

“No. I need to tell him about the baby. I need to hear his voice.”

“That’s not a good idea.” Giancarlo stood, walked to the door, and closed it behind him.

I turned the knob, but he’d locked me in from the outside. This isn’t a private cabin. It’s a prison.

Pounding on the door, I shouted, “You have to tell Marco. So help me, God, if anything happens to him it’s on your head, Giancarlo.”

My brother’s laughter made my skin crawl.

Is he pretending in front of his men, or did he play me? I trusted him with the truth. Did I make a mistake?

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