Page 74 of Always Mine
“Marco, I don’t know what game you’re playing at, but Sophia deserves better than to be embroiled in the type of trouble that continues to follow you around. If it’s not enough that you’ve earned your reputation as playboy, now you’re in bed with AJ Gigioliotti—a goddamn mobster!”
Between my altercation with Arty, Rizzo’s ambush last night, and having my life on blast thanks to GG’s blog, I need to dig deep to keep my calm. I ball my fists, the crinkle of the envelopein my right hand reminding me I still haven’t gotten to the most important bit of this conversation yet.
I can’t help myself. I laugh humorlessly. “Are you listening to yourself? You’re literally trying to push her into the arms of the worst kind of man there is, and I’m the bad guy here?”
I walk closer to him so we’re once again facing off, just like we did on New Year’s Eve.
“For a man who’s meant to be a top fucking lawyer, you have completely fucked this one up, Patrick. You don’t have all the facts, and you’re being fed a version of events that suit a narrative you want to believe.”
“You fucking threatened to kill him, Marco,” he shouts, banging his fist on his desk. “I heard the recording. Tell me, what father wants his daughter with a man like that?”
I bite the side of my mouth, and the taste of copper filling it sates the urge to draw blood from Patrick’s face. It would feel really fucking sweet to punch some sense into him. However, given the current source of contention, I’m not sure violence is the right answer. I grit my teeth and throw his words back at him like a bitter pill.
“And I would do it again. I would do absolutely anything for your daughter, Patrick. Including putting my own life in danger if it meant keeping hers safe,” I say with absolute conviction. “But your misplaced loyalties prevent you from seeing the truth. Arty is a man who preys on women, who lured your daughter to a drink date on a false pretense, and then used intimidation to try and get her to have another drink—one I believed to be spiked. So let me ask you, what fucking father wants his daughter to be with a man likethat?”
Patrick’s eyes flicker with contempt for me, and, for the briefest of moments, a flash of something else, but he refuses to acknowledge anything I’ve said.
He shakes his head and after a moment, continues. “Your father is a better man than I am. As hard as he’s tried to steer you right, I guess a person just can’t escape the truth of who he is. Can’t changethe bad blood that flows through his veins,” he snarls at me, and there’s an iciness in his tone that gives me pause. What the fuck is he talking about? What bad blood?
Before I can question the madness of his statement, Sienna enters the room with a clatter. “Patrick! That’s enough!” Sienna rarely raises her voice in anger, and rather than anger, hers seems to be laced with panic. She continues glaring at Patrick and an entirely silent conversation is had between them before she leaves to seek out Sophia.
Patrick drops his head briefly, then aims his disappointed glare at me before striking. “You’re not the boy I once knew.”
“You’re right. I’m not. I’m the man who fucking knows better.” I thrust the envelope I’ve had in my hand this whole time into his chest.
“This is for you. It’s taken six long years, but I’m finally righting the worst fucking decision I ever made.”
He grabs it and I turn and leave his office, not waiting to see if he opens the envelope or to gauge his reaction at what it contains. Relief floods my system at the same time a strange sense of foreboding spreads through my awareness. I know I need to come clean to Sophia about the real reason I let her leave six years ago and the decisions I’ve made that led me to finally be able to serve Patrick with a contract that rewrites my financial future. Patrick’s words about my dad ring in my ears again. What did he mean by that? There’s that gnawing worry again, the one that warns that spilling the truth might cost me the future I want with her. I want to believe we’re strong enough to weather that storm, so I push it back down like I did last time and promise myself I’ll tell her when the time is right. I just want to go home. To our home.
Chapter forty-seven
Making Moves
Sophia
Walkingintomychildhoodbedroom, I survey what I once considered my sanctuary and immediately sense a shift. It’s no longer my safe place. Waking up with Marco this morning felt so right because he’s the missing piece of the puzzle I’ve been working on for a lifetime.
I quickly pack a few other treasured belongings, adding them to the group of unpacked boxes I’d sent back from college. I’m usually the unpack immediately type, but intuition told me I wouldn’t be here long. It never lies.
The voices in the office down the hall get louder and louder as Marco and Dad argue. I know I’m missing something about this rift between them, but I just can’t figure out what it is. My mom’s loud command directed towards my dad halts the arguing and stops me in my tracks. I strain my ears to decipher what she says next, but there’s only silence. The sound of approaching footsteps gets my attention, and soon enough my mum joins me in my bedroom.
She looks perfectly pulled together but still cozy in soft silk trousers and a soft cashmere sweater in the same velvety shade of chocolate brown that offsets her fair skin and caramel blondehair. Her softness is both comforting and intimidating. My dad may live and breathe the world of judge and jury, but it’s mom’s ability to determine someone’s strength of character that has always prevailed. Unlike many women in New York’s society circles, she doesn’t use people or abuse their talents for her own gain; instead, she offers a warm smile that instantly puts people at ease.
Right now I need her calming presence. “Hi, Mom.”
She crosses the room and takes a seat on the end of my bed. “Come here, darling,” she says, patting the spot next to her. She angles her body to face me, and I adjust mine so I’m looking directly at her. She takes my hands and holds them in hers, a loving gesture that tells me no matter what, she’s there for me.
My eyes start to water, instantly.
“What was all that yelling about?” I ask.
An unreadable look flashes across my mom’s face. Uncertainty and apprehension. Regret, maybe? She schools it quickly, and before I can probe her for details, she speaks again.
“The unknown makes people act in ways we can’t understand. Your dad truly believes he’s doing the right thing, darling. Believe it or not, he’s just trying to protect you from both getting hurt. There are things you don’t under—” but she cuts herself off, and that odd expression passes over her face again, and I know she’s holding back.
“Mom, what are you not telling me?” I implore. “Marco was like a son to him. How many times has Dad said that Samuel is the only man he would lay down his life for? Marco is that man’s flesh and blood. I can’t reconcile why he’s so against this—us being together.”
“You’re old enough to make your own decisions. For what it’s worth, I always knew it was inevitable that you and Marco would find your way to each other. A mother sees all, Sophia. The bond you two have always shared has its own heartbeat, and not even putting distance and time between you could sever it.”