Page 31 of Desired By you (Always & Forever #3)

Chapter Twenty-Three

Brad

I was right. Having Gabriella here has eased the stress I usually feel when I’m in this house.

She is quickly becoming the person I look for in a crowded room, the one I want to reach out to and curl up with at the end of a long day, and the person I want to share my secrets with.

Watching her with my family has my mind going into overdrive.

Could I do the relationship thing? Could I give her everything she wants, needs, and deserves?

Could I be the man worthy of calling her mine?

“… I told her, you go bending your back like that, Kayla, you got to stretch first. I mean, I know the girl can stretch. She’s got three kids,” my sister says, and I close my eyes and wince as she has no filter and says exactly what’s on her mind.

Gabriella takes a napkin and brings it to her mouth, coughing, then falling into a fit of giggles.

“Well, you and Kayla are welcome in one of my Pilates classes anytime. I’ll show her how to bend correctly,” Gabriella offers, before taking a sip of her iced tea.

“Oh, I bet you could,” my slimy uncle mutters from the end of the table and I give him a death glare.

My uncle Lorenzo is my dad’s brother, and we have never seen eye to eye since my dad and brother went down.

He blames me, but what he doesn’t know is, I blame myself.

They needed to go down. They would have never gotten out of the life if they hadn’t.

Me? I was forced into a life of crime. It wasn’t an option.

Them going down gave me the opportunity to break free and do better, and many members of my family have never forgiven me for that. They see it as a betrayal.

My mom clears her throat and steeples her hands together. “So, Gabriella, when do you teach a class? Maybe me and Alessia could take a trip into the city and come by.”

‘Sure. I teach most days. Let me send you my studio details,” Gabriella offers.

She picks up her phone, and she and my sister chatter amongst themselves. My mom glances over and gives me a small smile. I appreciate that she’s welcoming Gabriella and making an effort.

My relationship with my mother is strained.

I get her need to stay in contact with my brother while he’s behind bars.

He’s her son, her blood, but my dad? I don’t understand her loyalty to a man who beat her and cheated on her, a man who forced his sons into a life of violence and crime because he couldn’t seem to do an honest day's work in his life.

My spiraling thoughts are interrupted when my sister whistles. “Gabriella Monroe, fancy name. Any relation to Marilyn?”

Gabriella lets out a nervous laugh and shakes her head. I watch as my mom straightens her back and looks over at Gabriella and her whole demeanor changes.

“So, Gabriella, where did you say you were from?”

“I’ve lived in New York the last twelve years, but I’m originally from a town near the Hamptons.”

“And your parents? What do they do?”

I narrow my eyes at my mom. Why is she asking these questions?

Gabriella shrinks into herself at the mention of her parents. I know she hates talking about them.

“Uh, my mom stays at home and does lots of charity work, and my dad is, uh, works in the legal division.”

“Really?” My mom’s tone verges on sarcastic as she sips her wine and I don’t like where this is going.

“What is he, like an attorney or something? That could come in handy in this family.” She laughs, but there’s an edge to it I don’t like.

“He’s a judge,” she says quietly.

“Oooh, fancy,” my mother drawls, and my uncle pushes back his chair and leaves the table. Everyone falls silent and eventually my mom gets up and follows my uncle into the house.

I give Gabriella a small smile. “Are you ready to go?” I ask and she nods.

“I’m using the bathroom, then we’ll leave.

I get up, thankful when I hear my sister begin chatting to Gabriella and I take the steps two at a time to get inside the kitchen, where I find my uncle yelling in Italian, and my mom placing her hands on his chest to calm him.

I slide the door shut and storm over to them.

“Che cazzo era quello?” What the fuck was that back there? I yell.

My mother turns, her eyes filled with unshed tears as moves away from my uncle. He reaches into the pocket of his black suit pants, pulls out a packet of cigarettes and places one in his mouth and for a split second, I consider asking him for one.

“Just go, Marco,” he breathes out, smoke from the now lit cigarette filling the space between us.

“I’m not going until you tell me what the hell that was,” I say, stepping forward, ready to get physical if I have to; the old me getting ready to rear its ugly head.

My mom wipes her tears and sniffs.

“Marco, do—” I hold up my hand to stop her speaking, my stomach now in knots at the use of my real name. Suddenly, the room feels too small and the walls are creeping closer while that old feeling in my chest, which was an everyday feeling, seeps its way into my body.

I need to get out of this house.

“I’m leaving. I don’t want you contacting me or speaking to Gabriella,” I say sternly, heading to the door.

‘You know who she is, right?” my uncle yells.

I turn on my heel to face him. My mother’s hands cover her face, her body hunched over, crying.

“Who?” I ask

My uncle walks towards me, and I square my shoulders, ready to take him on. As a kid my dad and uncle would knock seven bells out of us if we ever stepped out of line, but now, I’m bigger and stronger than him, he doesn’t have a hold over me any longer.

His lip quirks up into a snarl. “Your little girlfriend out there, her daddy, he’s the prick that put your brother and dad behind bars.”