Page 53 of The Almost One

She’s wide-eyed now, probably realizing that danger is knocking on our door. Fuck, I hope I make it back.

“I promise. Don’t go, Marco. Don’t, please stay—” I kiss her, hard, and breathe my love against her lips.

“I’ll be right back.” I don’t hear the rest of her protests as I close the secured door and run into the mouth of danger.

CHAPTERSEVENTEEN

RIVER

“Buongiorno, River.” Mrs. Mancini greets me with a warm smile as I enter the dining room, standing to pour me a fresh coffee. This woman gets me.

“Good morning to you too.” I sit on the sofa beside her and help myself to a croissant. Bruce notices someone new is in the room and leaps up from his resting spot, bounding over to me on his tiny little legs. I scoop up the bundle of fluff and rest him on my knee as I sip my coffee.

The air in the room changes as Marco enters, looking like sin all wrapped up in a sexy suit, but I won’t allow myself to give in to him. He glares at me for longer than is acceptably comfortable, before nodding his head gently and walking away.

Asshole.

“Is something wrong with Marco? He didn’t say goodbye the way he usually does.”

Never one to mince her words, Gabriella Mancini is always straight to the awkward point. I woke up and ambled downstairs, needing coffee for the conversation I was hoping to have this morning. But no, the asshole has clearly decided to go out fuck knows where. Since Gabriella doesn’t seem to know where, I’ll just have to ask Stefano. Which can wait until I’ve finished my breakfast because I’m absolutely not rushing to chase after Marco.

“He’s in a mood. You know how he can be.”

She’s not buying it, I can tell by the upturn of one corner of her mouth and the glint in her gray eyes.

“What’s going on,bella? Talk to me.”

The question seems so out of the blue, but also, it feels like an opportunity. Gabriella Mancini has lived in this crazy world, lived as the wife of the don of fucking New York City. She may be a grieving widow, but I still see the fire behind her eyes. Maybe she could help me figure out how to crack the shell that is Marco, spilling all his secrets and finally getting him to let me all the way in. Then I can finally do the same for him.

While he’s holding back from me, as much as I’ve never felt this way before, there’s still something holding me back, just a tiny bit.

I sigh, unable to lie, and also strangely unable to keep everything to myself.

“He’s keeping things from me.” This next part feels childish to say it out loud, but her gaze is full of encouragement instead of the judgment I’m expecting. “So I’m ignoring him until he stops. I’m tired of the secrets.”

Gabriella nods her head in understanding. “Si.Good idea. Alberto once tried to keep secrets from me, but he soon realized I was no wilting flower. The day I threatened to burn his beloved car to the ground was when he finally let me all the way in.” A wistful look passes through her eyes and she smiles at the memory, laughing softly before fixing me with her gaze once more. “You are a strong Italian woman, River. Just like your grandmother. I know you can get through to that pig-headed son of mine.”

Wait, what now?

“Did you know my grandmother? I’m also pretty sure we’re not Italian.” The only emotion filling me in this moment is confusion. The last time I saw my grandparents was the night my parents died. Then I recall what Gabriella said at the Christmas eve party, something I’d put to the back of my mind. She’d said I look just likeher. Did she mean my grandmother?

“I did, she was a wonderful woman. Always full of joy. I knew your parents too, before they left the life.”

Holy fuck in a bucket, how am I only just hearing all of this information? This feels like something I should know. Is this what Marco’s keeping from me? And if so, why? But also, they were in ‘the life’? As in mafia shit…? And I’m Italian? My heart begins to beat erratically in my chest, but I control my breathing as best I can.

“This is all news to me, a—”

Gabriella cuts in, seemingly oblivious to the bombs she’s dropping on me as she speaks. “The night they all died was horrific, everyone thought you had been killed in the accident too, but you have a guardian angel. Your parents, your grandparents; Kastellanos thought they’d wiped out the whole Volpe family that night. We all did. But I’m glad they didn’t succeed.” She smiles at me then, and tears prick my eyes as my whole world implodes.

I should respond, say something, ask questions. I’ve been preparing myself for answers for so long, and this isnotwhat I was expecting.But how could I ever prepare myself for this?

I need to speak to Marco.

“This is a lot to take in.”

“I know,bella. My son should have told you a long time ago, and there is a little more to it, but please go easy on him. All he’s ever wanted is you.”

* * *

---