Salvatore: a Dark Mafia Romance(22)

When it had happened, I’d been broken. He was my one ally, my friend. He’d known how to become boss. Our father loved him and yet, Sergio wasn’t like him. Not at all. He’d been gunned down at a gas station. A stupid, cowardly drive-by. He’d deserved a better death than that. And he’d deserved a life first.

My father had retaliated, but something didn’t sit right with me. In fact, the whole thing stank. They’d blamed a smaller family from Philadelphia, one that was supposed to have been loyal to us. Somehow, evidence had turned up incriminating them. But it didn’t make sense, not then, not now. My father had been crazed, though. He’d loved Sergio, and he’d simply reacted, killed off the boss’s sons. Effectively ending the family.

I was supposed to have been with Sergio at the meeting he was coming home from, but I’d been sick. In a way, it felt like I’d cheated death, but then, if I had been there, maybe Sergio wouldn’t have died. Maybe things would have gone differently.

I never said much when I came to the cemetery and never stayed long. Just showed up. Wanted them to know I hadn’t forgotten them. I got back in the car and headed toward Natalie’s house. Natalie was Sergio’s wife. Apart from her friendship with me, she’d cut off ties with the family after his and my mother’s deaths. She hated my father and brother. She hated the life. But she had loved my brother, knowing the cost of that love.

My father hadn’t really allowed her to walk away, though. Not with her bringing his first grandchild into the world. Jacob Sergio Benedetti was born six months after Sergio’s murder. Natalie had purposely not given him an Italian first name, which had pissed off my father. Jacob was one and a half years old now. I knew she worried about what demands my father would put on her as Jacob grew older, but she kept those mostly to herself. My father supported them financially. As much as I knew Natalie hated it, she needed the money. And as long as she took it, Franco gave her the space she wanted. I guess he figured he owned her anyway.

I dialed Natalie’s number on my cell phone. She answered after the fourth ring.

“Hello?”

“Natalie, it’s me, Salvatore.”

“Hey, Salvatore. How are you?”

“Okay.” Not really. “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine. Just playing with Jacob.”

“Can I drop by?”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” I said quickly, then added, “you know.” Natalie was the one person who knew me for who I really was. I trusted Marco, my bodyguard, but he didn’t know this side of me. I didn’t trust anyone enough to share this vulnerability. Too many people ready and waiting for weakness.

“Come on over.”

“Thanks. See you in twenty minutes.”

I drove to her house, a two-story brick home about forty-five minutes from mine. Her parents lived nearby, and she’d moved here specifically to be close to them. When I rang the doorbell, Natalie answered with Jacob perched on her hip. He still wore his pajamas and held the stuffed animal I’d given him on his first birthday. He gave me a huge gummy smile. He only had three teeth, although I could see the fourth one was working its way in.

“Wow, haven’t you grown.” I took Jacob from Natalie’s arms. He wrapped his arms around my neck and planted a wet kiss on my face.

“Nice,” Natalie said. “You look…not so good.”

She gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek after wiping off the mark Jacob had left.

“Come in.”

I put Jacob down on the floor among his toys, which seemed to be everywhere.

“Espresso?”

“Please.” I took a seat on the couch and watched Jacob play while Natalie made espresso and then joined me in the living room.

“How was the funeral?”

“Shitty.” I took a sip of the espresso she handed me, dark and rich and bitter as hell, just the way I liked it. “He’s got Sergio’s eyes,” I said, taking the toy Jacob held out to me.

Natalie stroked the little boy’s hair. “And his stubborn streak.”

“I don’t know. I think you may both be responsible for that one.”

She smiled. “You could be right on that. What’s up, Salvatore?”

“Lucia’s home with me.”

Natalie nodded, knowing the situation. “How’s that going?”

“Well, she’s been there less than twenty-four hours, and I think I’ve fucked it up pretty well.” I drank the last sip of espresso.

“Want to talk about it?”

What could I tell her? What could I tell her that wouldn’t make me sound like a monster? Like my father. Hell, he would have been proud of me this morning.