AllFreeNovel
Share Us
His father had wiped at his face as his cold eyes watched her slice up her second wrist.
“This is what you want, isn’t it? This is what you both want!”
His father didn’t deny it. He turned and walked away.
It was Montrell who stemmed the bleeding, Giulia who brought the doctor. His mother screamed and cried throughout. Her words were mostly incoherent, but Montrell knew what she had to say already.
She’d said it all along.
He didn’t tell Beatrice all of that. His hand lifted her arm until it hovered above them. His thumb rubbed softly over the raised scar. “Her scars don’t look the same as yours. Not as deep. The pink line on her arm is almost unnoticeable.” He pulled his wife’s arm down and kissed the scar before releasing it.
Beatrice’s fingers resumed their gentle stroking. “I’m sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about. Your story is different from my mother’s. Had you gone through with it, your reasons would have been different. My mother wanted to hurt me.” He sighed, urging her closer. “It worked. I could only think about killing my father after that. I was desperate to do it. Reckless. Within a month, I had what I thought were enough people. My mother was still recovering, and I promised her she’d never face another day of suffering.”
He shook his head, bumping his chin against hers. “I was an idiot. Luckily, Giulia overheard me. I didn’t suspect a thing. Even bent toward her to make it easier for her to knock me out and lock me up.” He laughed. “She locked up Vespa too. Vespa was spitting mad about it.”
“Giulia stopped you?”
“It was a good thing she did. I was going off half-cocked. All I could picture was my mother telling me I couldn’t save her as she bled. The men I’d gathered weren’t as loyal to me as I thought. They would have shot me alongside my father and called it a good day.”
He remembered how Giulia had lectured him. She’d never screamed. She’d been hard and calm as she’d explained the other men were dead and all anyone knew was that they were acting alone.
“It took seven years for me to gain true loyalty. The men had to see what I could do. What type of boss I would be. And then they stood with me when I killed my father.” He felt calm saying it. That’s how he’d been when he’d pulled the trigger as well. The family was all for picking off their don by that point because, besides being a wife beater, his father was also a terrible leader and businessman.
“My mother had run back to the Irish by then. I went to see her. She was less than grateful I’d killed my father. It made sense. I’d already failed her. Even now she’s bitter and… I don’t know. Not quite right. So, no, I never did save her.” The last part came out as a whisper.
His mother’s words rose in his mind. She had said that he hadn’t killed his father for her. That it didn’t matter anyway. It was too late. She was already dead, she’d told him.
Montrell hoped the Irish were taking care of her. He had sent spies to check, and nothing in the reports made him think otherwise.
“I didn’t save you either,” Montrell said. “The Albanian was dead, and you were shooting his followers.”
“You and Vespa helped. I didn’t think I’d last until morning.” She squirmed to rest more fully on top of him, her arms wrapping around his neck again. “I wouldn’t have made it out of Vegas without you. I’m grateful. It’s true, I wasn’t at the time, but marriage does that to me.” She studied his face. “That you came for me, specifically for me, it means a lot.” She leaned down, and she kissed him.
Neither took the kiss any deeper. It was a brushing of lips, a mixing of breaths. It felt more like a promise than their wedding kiss had.
“Are there any other secrets we need to talk about?” Beatrice asked.
He worked his fingers through her hair, enjoying the way her head shifted against them, seeking more of his touch. “I wasn’t keeping my mother a secret. It’s just hard to bring up.”
“So that’s a no?”
He leaned up and nudged her nose with his. “Yes, that’s a no. I’m not keeping secrets.”
She nodded, lowering to brush his lips with hers again. Her hips arched against him, but Montrell had lost his erection.
Talking about his mother tended to do that.
“Are you going to finally make love to me?” Beatrice asked.
He wrapped his arms around her, rolling them to their sides. She felt perfect curled against him. “I just want to hold you tonight. Can I do that?”
“A repeat of last night, then.” She yawned against his neck. “How married of us.”
He chuckled as her head tucked against his neck.
“You were exhausted earlier, and your body had more than enough.” She didn’t argue with him. Her breathing had already begun to slow. “We’ll get there, Bea. Sleep.”
