Page 12 of The Silence Lies

“Come on, Luca. We had a good time last time, didn’t we?” Sonya is desperate, clinging onto the hope that I might feed her ego and she might be able to heal me.

“I’m not interested,” I snap. My mood is already sour from the earlier meeting, and as much as a good release would be beneficial, the blonde isn’t what I want right now.

Running my hands through my hair, I sigh and slide my empty glass along the bar top.

The bartender catches it, gives me a swift nod, then gets to work pouring me another.

“Fontana!”

I turn at the sound of my name, my eyes honing in on Marco and his twin brother Matteo making their way down the steps into the main lounge area of my club. I thought I could hide out here, in my own space. Clearly, I’m that predictable.

“You’ve not been answering your phone!” Marco claps me on the back while Matteo gestures to the bartender.

“I’ve been busy,” I mutter. I don’t mind the guys, we’ve known each other long enough that we can skip pleasantries.

Matteo turns around to rest his elbows on the bar top, his eyes prowling the few staff I have working this afternoon. It’s never busy during the day, which is how I like it. My club keeps the revenue coming in and it’s the only legal thing to my name.

“There’s a lot to keep you busy here,” Matteo comments sarcastically with a smirk. He licks his lips as Sonya walks past. “Hey babe!”

Sonya rolls her eyes before disappearing out the back. I should feel bad that I’ve put her in a shit mood, but she should know better. I’m not after anything, and if I want a fuck, I’ll go find it myself. But weirdly enough, it’s the last thing I want right now.

“What’s up her ass?” Matteo mumbles, grabbing his drink from the side.

I pick up mine that the bartender has just set down, swallowing the liquid in two gulps. “She doesn’t get rejected often. What do you both want?”

“Can’t we come and see a friend?” Marco smiles, but it’s filled with suspicious intent.

I have no reason not to trust the twins. They’ve made it clear where they stand when it comes to the Verdis and Bianchis. “You can,” I mutter. “But there’s always a reason you two show up unannounced.”

By the way Marco’s smirk flickers, I’d say I was right. With a huff, he takes the stool to my left, while Matteo takes the one on my right. “We thought you might need some company.”

“Trust me, that’s the total opposite of what I want.” I roll the glass between my fingers, watching the crystal sparkle beneath the overhead lights.

“Okay,” Matteo slaps his palms against the barter. “Let’s get some shots in!”

I go to protest, but he’s already reaching over the bar and grabbing three shot glasses, along with a familiar looking bottle of liquor. He squints his eyes, attempting to read the Spanish on it, and I laugh.

“It’s Tequila,” I say, snatching the bottle from him.

While Matteo lines up the glasses, I start pouring. I have no doubt this night is going to end like so many others have over the last few weeks. It has become routine for me, something I know I should stop, but it’s the only thing that numbs the memories of what I lost. Today was another reminder of that.

Looking at Serafina from across the table, in all her confident glory and beautiful power, I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t stop the distaste blending with the returning lust. Between the anger and twisted resentment I feel towards Donna Bianchi, there’s another emotion settling underneath my skin. For the first time ever, I saw the vulnerability and desperation in Serafina’s eyes. She’s wracked with guilt, and not just the kind of guilt you get from surviving something horrific. No, Serafina is punishing herself for what happened that day. It might not be with tits and tequila like me, but she’s torturing herself in other ways. I’m sure of it. She might not have directly had a part to play in pulling the trigger. But the bullet my father took was to protect her. And that’s the reminder I have to live with.

At least avenging my father’s death will bring me some satisfaction, maybe even some solace. If it doesn’t, I know who I’m going after next and Omertà or not, blood will be spilled.

I sling back the first shot with ease. The twins throw their own back before slamming their glasses onto the side and coughing.

“Again!” Matteo cheers, snatching the tequila from my grasp.

“What exactly is your plan here?”

Matteo pours out the liquid but doesn’t say a word. It’s Marco that douses the silence with his words, and they hold a whole other meaning. “We’re going to get you drunk until you talk.”

He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Like I’m about to spill every single inch of my guts to these brothers while bonding over alcohol. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Ahhh…” Matteo laughs, raising his glass in the air. “But there is.”

“Luca, your father died.”

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