Page 8 of Enzo (Legacy of Heathens #3)

ENZO

A madeo shot to his feet, leaving the office with a slam of the door. He wasn’t taking this well, not that I blamed him. It was a lot to process, but after the information I’d gleaned from Diana Bergman, nothing shocked me anymore.

“Are you going to storm off, too?” Father questioned.

“No.”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I have to admit, son”—the affection in his voice when he said son hit me in the chest—“I’m not sure whether to be relieved or concerned at your lack of reaction.”

I shrugged. “Be relieved.”

Judging by his expression, he’d taken the concerned route.

But that was who my father—uncle, whatever—was.

It didn’t matter that he wasn’t biologically our parent, he was in every other sense.

The same went for Isla. She’d done more for us than our own mother.

In fact, the two weren’t even comparable.

The other woman had gone so far as to try to murder us. And on more than one occasion.

“Anyhow, since it’s a day for truths, I have an admission to make too,” I continued. “I’ve been digging up some information, and I struck a deal with Diana Bergman.”

Father tensed. “ The Diana Bergman?”

“I know of only one.”

“The very same who shot the Nikolaev boy?” I nodded my confirmation. “Why, Enzo? What could she possibly have that you want or need?”

“Access to a club, among other things.” I waved my hand nonchalantly, trying to downplay just how much I’d wanted it while hoping he didn’t ask me to expand on details relating to said club.

“However, considering the Nikolaevs got their hands on her, I think it’s prudent we speed up the wedding date. Keep it small.”

Father’s brow knit. “Whatever Bergman shares with them, we can leverage Amadeo’s broken engagement and the sex tape.”

I shook my head.

The sex tape was sent last month by Nikola Nikolaev to put a stop to Father’s plan of tying Amadeo to Skye Leone. Not that my brother had had any plans of going through with the wedding, but the tape definitely ended any possibility of it.

“It won’t be enough,” I said. “Let’s set the wedding for Christmas Day.”

Honestly, tomorrow would be ideal, but I knew there was no way in hell that Luca DiMauro would ever agree.

“I’m all for it,” Father stated carefully. “Although I am a bit surprised by this sudden rush to marry Penelope.”

I shrugged. “I don’t want to risk any family secrets coming out and putting a damper on our plans.”

It was the closest to the truth I dared to get.

“Do you want the ring your father gave?—”

“No.” There was no way in hell I’d touch anything of my mother’s. “I already have Penelope’s ring.”

Surprise flashed in Father’s eyes.

“Very well,” he agreed, not commenting further. “I’ll call Luca. It’s been a long time coming.”

After the meeting with Father, I went looking for my brother and found him on the terrace of the little guesthouse on the edge of the property, hunched over with his elbows on his knees.

This place was where we’d always come as children when we sought privacy for whatever ridiculous scheme we were cooking up. Oh, how times had changed.

I took a seat on the bench next to him and mirrored his position.

“Are you okay?”

He let out a sardonic breath. “Sure, I’ll have plenty to talk about with my therapist.”

“You’re still seeing Dr. Freud?”

Amadeo had begun having manic episodes in his late teens, and after a myriad of doctors and hospital visits, it was recommended he try therapy.

Our mother had left a mark on us all, but my brother hadn’t been able to compartmentalize as effectively as me.

Father really should have ended that bitch before we could ever remember her.

“I guess.” He shrugged, staring pointedly at his leather loafers. “Maybe if I’m a better man and”—he tapped his temples—“things are functioning up here, I’ll be a good husband if I ever marry.”

“Maybe try not to shag every female on the continent,” I suggested wryly. “That’d be a good place to start.”

“Don’t worry, I’m being safe.”

“I’m sure you are, but my reputation isn’t,” I teased.

“Don’t think I don’t know you use my name when the opportunity arises.

” I cocked an unimpressed brow at him. I still didn’t know why he couldn’t just pick a random name out of a hat during his escapades.

He looked away, sheepish, and I continued.

“Now that I’m about to marry Penelope?—”

He turned his whole body to look at me. “You set the date?”

“Yes, Christmas Day.”

“Jesus, you’re really rushing it, huh?”

I shrugged. “Might as well, because if our secrets start leaking out, Luca DiMauro will never let me have her.”

“I see your point. Maybe I should do the same with Aria.”

“She’s had a crush on you since we were kids,” I pointed out. “I’m pretty sure she’ll take you in any shape or form.”

“True. It’s the reason I’ve kept my distance from her, but trust me when I say, her stalking skills are seriously disturbing. They rival even yours.”

I scoffed.

“Seriously though, Amadeo, it seems you’ve found yourself a match. Lock that down quickly so I can pass on the burden of your lunatic ass. I’ll be married soon; I won’t have time to bail you out of trouble.”

He punched my shoulder. “Watch it, fratello . I could say the same.”

We chuckled, but the sound vanished too quickly and was replaced with a familiar tense silence.

“Aren’t you worried?” Amadeo asked.

I raised my eyebrow. “About?”

“About what we just learned,” he explained. “We clung to the fact that at least half of us came from something good, and now we learn that he isn’t even our father?”

Anguish stretched in my chest, but I kept my expression blank. Amadeo needed reassurance, and I certainly wouldn’t be the one to feed his panic.

“Enrico and Enzo were brothers, so they couldn’t have been that different,” I stated slowly, keeping my tone measured.

“Yes, it caught me by surprise, but it doesn’t erase the fact that this man raised us, protected us, and loved us.

Honestly, I’m just regretful we didn’t find out it was our mother who wasn’t really ours, biologically. She’s the problem.”

He laughed bitterly. “If by problem you mean deranged psycho killer . She might not have succeeded, but that didn’t stop her from trying for years. We’re lucky to be alive.”

He was right.

In the early years, we’d both longed for the affection we saw other children receive. Every child needed their mother’s love, and for as long as I could remember, we both craved it.

When we were younger, we’d touch on the subject, but somehow we’d always drift away from it. We learned from an early age that strength was more important than feelings, so we naturally avoided talking about them.

Except, it backfired. It only festered and became insidious across all aspects of our lives. Maybe deep down we thought we weren’t worthy of anyone’s love, or we were simply a product of our environment and were fucked up beyond repair.

A mother’s love was instrumental in development, as Amadeo used to tell me after his therapy sessions. But it didn’t take a clinical psychologist to look at my brother and me and find us lacking in that department.

All I knew was that my obsessive nature was the result of our childhood, just like Amadeo’s panic attacks were a consequence of his, and we both knew to hide those parts of ourselves from the world.

“Aren’t you worried you’ll become her?” Amadeo’s question rang with the terror we’d wrangled since we were old enough to understand. “That you’ll lose your mind and attempt to kill your children, murder your spouse?”

“No.” Of course I am. “Amadeo, we must continue the Marchetti legacy. Isla doesn’t want the little ones in the Omertà, and I don’t blame her. It’s on us now.”

He nodded. “It’s the least we owe her and Father after all they’ve done.”

“But we’re also good at it,” I reasoned. “We’ll deal with our demons, but the world won’t know about it. If you feel like you’re losing it, you come to me.”

“Ditto, brother.”

It was the same pact we’d made as children.