Page 28 of Legacy of Deception

Letting my mind wander back just a few moments, it was as though I could almost still hear him playing. That was the kind of impact he made. On the piano. “You play beautifully,” I finally said, trying to come to terms with what it was I was feeling in this moment as our shoulders brushed in the lightest, almost fleeting touch.

His gaze shot down to where the silky sleeve of my robe grazed his arm. “Thanks.” The beat of his pulse kicked up again. Faster somehow. Until it slowed, steadied, and his eyes connected with mine.

He drew his hand up from the piano, his initial ring a compelling reminder that Marco Deluca might have been different from his father, but he was cut from the same cloth.

Sucking in a breath, I stilled as the back of his hand grazed my cheek, the cold metal nearly causing me to shudder before he retreated.

“You should get your rest. I’m sure the baby needs it,” he said, his expression stony.

It was highly unlikely that I’d be able to rest, but I think we both knew it was the right move. Engaged or not, we needed to tread carefully. With that in mind, I stood up, pulled on my robe, and slipped quietly from the living room.

I wondered if our fathers knew they’d paired two birds in gilded cages together.

Chapter 12

a platinum pussy

MARCO

One glance at Vito and Lisa Marie as I walked into their house suddenly had me wishing I never showed up. Sure, Vito had asked me to stop by, but would he have even noticed if I failed to entirely? He was usually so absorbed in what he had going on he had no clue what was happening right under his nose. It stood to reason he wouldn’t pick up on something that didn’t happen, like me not gracing him with my company.

“What gives?” I finally asked, splitting through tension between the married couple like a single ray of sunlight cut through dark clouds.

They both eyed me closely, especially Lisa Marie who arched one thin brow. From the looks of it, Lisa Marie had cooked up a storm. Although soon, I imagined, she’d be packing it all up in containers and putting it in the fridge, unable to eat most of it after her inevitable arguing with Vito. It seemed to be a ritual of theirs, but no news there. Everyone in the family was aware that these two bickered. Endlessly.

“Don’t you own a watch?” Vito asked, drawing his brows together, making a V between them. I’d swear the V between his brows rivaled that of the vaulted ceilings with exposed A-frame mahogany beams that created an inverted V over their dining room. It was dramatic and grand as far as architecture went, but on Vito, it was anything but.

“Not everyone runs on your timetable, Vito,” Lisa Marie cut in. Her voice was as sharp and nasally as ever, but it was the distinct hint of annoyance that I noticed most. Whatever happened before I got here must have really pissed her off. “Would you like something to eat, Marco?” she asked as she stepped in the direction of the kitchen.

I shook my head. “No, thanks.” There was a blue crushed velvet dining chair that had my name on it, though, so I pulled it out to take a seat, seeing as this was obviously going to take longer than I’d bargained for.

Vito dropped his fork on his plate, drawing attention as it clattered against their wedding china. I’d known it was their wedding china because I’d eaten off it before and I could still remember the speech Lisa Marie had given me when she had first set it in front of me. It had twenty-four carat gold, platinum, and enamel detailing, making it not only extremely high-end but art for our food and her table. Basically, it was to be treated with kid gloves or face her wrath. “If you’re not eating, why are you sitting?” he asked, clearly perturbed. If only Lisa Marie was here. Then he’d really know perturbed with the way he was rough with her plate.

In the ultimate insult to nearly every Italian woman who prepared a meal, he pushed his plate aside with more than a little of his dinner left. No wonder he and his wife were at each other’s throats so often. My brother needed a swift kick in the ass.

Shaking my head, I crossed an ankle over my knee and leaned back. This was obviously going to get good, so I might as well have gotten comfortable.

Vito scowled in response, clasping his hands together as he placed his elbows on the table. That pretty boy face of his had been looking weathered lately, making that scowl even more disturbing. He was turning into our father right before my eyes, especially with the hollowed cheeks and faint lines. I think they spoke volumes about his character.

Finally deciding to really piss him off, I said, “I like to give the people what they really want, and you clearly just wanted to see your favorite brother. That’s why you called me over, right?” I quirked my mouth into a grin. It appeared Vito didn’t need my help getting pissed off. It seemed like he was easy to upset these days without any help at all, but I still enjoyed myself.

Muttering under his breath, I only caught a “fanculo”2 slip from his lips. Grumpy son of a bitch. He should really learn how to speak up. The muttering only made him come off as old and crotchety.

“You’re welcome at my house anytime, Marco.” From the corner of her eye, she must’ve noticed Vito’s intense glare when she came back into the room because she turned to him and widened her eyes. “What?” she yelled. Then she narrowed her gaze in a way that said if I could smack you right now, I would. “But if you two aren’t eating, then get out of my dining room,” she said, gesturing for him to get up and leave before she looked away from Vito.

Taking her directive, Vito stood up. “My office,” he said, leaving me with no choice but to follow.

No sooner did the door close to his fortress of solitude than Vito got down to business, standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, commanding my attention. “You’re getting married.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

“Is there a question in there somewhere?” I asked, cracking my knuckles. This was far from my favorite topic, so I didn’t exactly want to sit around and talk about it. I would’ve much preferred he offered me a drink from his wet bar, which it didn’t seem like he was about to do since he sat down in his black Italian leather ergonomic executive chair behind his white marble desk. The whole space was old-world luxury with the museum-style shelves, displaying artifacts and antiques, contrasted with modern minimalist.

Vito fussed with a pen resting on his ink blotter in front of his curved computer monitor like he was some tech genius and not the corporate scrooge he was. “I suppose not. Just wondering how much you know about Father’s motives for putting it in motion.” If only I knew one-tenth of his motivation beyond what he’d told me. Just like I wished I knew what EJ wanted to talk to him about. Unfortunately, I couldn’t come up with answers on either front.

“The equestrian centers,” I said, not believing the words coming from my mouth, but Vito didn’t need to know that. The truth was, the deal was weak, so there had to be more to our father wanting the centers.

“Two struggling locations under one failing business.”

“Listen, if this is all you—”