Page 3 of Sins of the Orchid

I swallowed hard, staring into his eyes. They were the darkest brown I had ever seen. I nodded again, unable to utter a single word. It was so much more than just a bad day at school. My face was wet, my nose runny, but the worst pain was in my heart.

An older man that resembled the younger man stepped forward. “What’s your name?”

The city was a bad place. Dad told me never to trust anyone, but he didn’t say anything about being rude. If I refused to answer, they would think I was rude.

“Amore,” I whispered in a small voice.

The young guy that spoke to me first chuckled. “No, that’s a feeling. I am Santino. What’s your first name?”

Swallowing hard, I watched both men warily. “It’s Amore. Amore Bennetti.”

I had never seen a simple name have such an impact. The expression on both men’s faces turned to shock, then disbelief.

“Who’s your father?” Santino asked, his voice careful.

The question was simple, but tears pooled in my eyes again, threatening to spill, and to my horror, a hiccup escaped me. I worried if I started crying again, it would flow like a broken dam.

“Savio Bennetti,” I breathed out, tears finally winning again and rolling down my cheeks. It was the first time I’d referred to him as my father out loud, and it felt like a betrayal to Mom and George.

“Savio Bennetti doesn’t have a daughter,” the older man responded.

Unceremoniously, the way I knew my mom would scold me if she was still alive, I wiped my eyes and nose with the back of my hand.

“Mom and Dad—” I stopped because George wasn’t Dad. “He just found out.”

The old man now lowered down to his knees too, his eyes in line with mine, as if he was searching for the truth in them.

“You are Margaret Regalè’s little girl.” I wasn’t sure if he meant it as a question or a statement, but I nodded, nonetheless. My lower lip trembled, just as it did every time I’d think of my mom and George. “Same eyes. You have your mother’s eyes.” My throat choked from all the emotions. “How is Margaret?”

Tears escaped again. My mom always said I was a happy baby, happy kid, and barely ever cried. But I’d made up for it over the last few weeks.

“She is dead,” I whispered, the pain still too raw. The images I didn’t want to remember flashed in front of my eyes, and I shut them tightly, as if that would shut them out. But they were all in my brain, ingrained in my memories. They were igniting something within me that I was scared to evaluate.

“It’s okay, kiddo.” Santino brushed his big hand against my cheek, the touch oddly comforting. His thumb wiped the tears, and my heart ached because it was the first comforting touch since Mom and George died. I craved it like the air I breathed. I missed their hugs and kisses; the love they offered me. Mom was always affectionate.

It was different with Dad’s family. Most of them didn’t know what to do with a girl in their house. Dad’s wife glared at me and hurt me when nobody looked.

My brothers seemed to speak in riddles around me, and if it wasn’t riddles, they spoke more in Italian than English. I didn’t speak any Italian, although I was beginning to pick up on some of the basic phrases. But at least they were nice to me.

“Amore, didn’t your dad tell you not to go into Russo’s territory?” The older man questioned as my eyes shifted to him. I didn’t know what he meant. Scrunching my eyebrows, I tried to remember if I ever heard of Russo’s territory.

I shook my head. “He said not to roam the city,” I rasped.

A small smile appeared on both men’s faces. “He is right about that. Why are you roaming the city?”

I squared my shoulders, meeting both their eyes.

“I was waiting for Vincent to pick me up. I promise,” I said softly. “But the boys saw me waiting and wouldn’t leave me alone.”

“Boys?” Santino asked.

“The boys in school,” I murmured.

The old man smiled, the creases in his eyes making him look less imposing. I’ve met enough men to know these two could be dangerous, but also protective. My instincts told me to trust them.

“They probably don’t know what to do with you.” The old man told me with a smile. “Your mother was quite a looker too.”

My eyes snapped to him, Santino completely forgotten.