Page 117 of Vow Of Fire

“You’ll get to meet the whole famiglia.” I wondered how she’d handle them all together.

One thing I’d realized about Evelyn was that she was a survivor. I’d been trained by Uncle Sam to adapt to new situations and to overcome adversity, but she had that naturally. She was a lot stronger than she looked.

“What’s Marco like?” she asked, reaching for her wine glass.

“He’s a born diplomat. A charming devil that says one thing and does the opposite. He’s well connected in business and political circles. Has a far-reaching intel network and knows everybody’s dirty little secrets. You can’t trust him, but he’ll make you believe you can.”

“I’ll try to remember that,” she murmured.

“He can also be a stuck-up, arrogant prick, but just ignore that side of him.”

She laughed, and a smile tugged at my lips. Suddenly I wasn’t dreading the meeting as much as I usually did.

“Is he married?” She set her glass down and picked up her knife and fork. We were having chicken with a variety of colored vegetables and a creamy potato dish that smelled amazing. My stomach rumbled.

“Nope. He was engaged once, but it didn’t work out. He’s been single ever since.”

“What is it with you Marcellis?” she said, eyes dancing in the moody lighting. “Do you all have an inherent mistrust of relationships?”

She wasn’t wrong there.

“I blame my mother,” I said, only half joking. Valentina and her pathological suspicion of everyone and everything had given us all trust issues, I was sure of it.

“What was your father like?” she asked softly.

I stared at her, debating whether or not I wanted to have this conversation. She was watching me expectantly.

“He wasn’t like that,” I said finally. “He embraced life. I still remember his booming laugh.”

She smiled, and I realized it was because I was smiling. I whipped the expression off my face. “What a fucking tragic loss that was.”

“Were you close?” she asked.

I nodded, deciding I didn’t want to talk about him anymore.

“My parents were always so involved with each other, there was no time for me,” she admitted, surprising me with the unexpected insight into her past. While we’d talked about the gallery, the plan against the cartel, and even my own family, she’d never once offered anything up about her personal life before I’d bulldozed my way into it.

“Sounds tough,” I said, before taking a bite. Damn, that chicken was good.

“It wasn’t tough, just lonely,” she said, brow wrinkling. “I was an accident, you see. Not that they ever said as much. But they didn’t want kids and weren’t prepared to change their lifestyle just because they had me.”

I tried to picture the young Evelyn fending for herself. It explained a lot.

“How did they die?” I asked.

“Plane crash in Africa. They were on safari when their light aircraft went down.” She shook her head. “They liked to travel a lot.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, and meant it. I knew what it was like to lose a parent.

“Thanks. I was already at college when it happened, so it’s not like I was a kid.”

“Doesn’t make it any easier,” I said.

She nodded in acknowledgment, then took a deep breath. “No, it doesn’t. But they didn’t leave me destitute. I was able to buy the gallery with what they left me.”

Her face brightened as she talked about the Agora, and I realized how much it meant to her. I ignored the flicker of guilt when I thought about what we’d done. How we were using her for our own ill-gotten gains. Like we used many different businesses.

Still, it was true what I’d told her before. Without the inflated sales, without the constant flow of revenue, without Vincent, she wouldn’t have done as well as she had.