Page 116 of Thin Lines (Donati Bloodlines 2)

Ti amo, Emmy.

I love you, Emmy.

Mi dispiace.

I’m sorry.

His Italian soothed her.

But his embrace made the awfulness go away.

“You played me for a fucking fool!”

Emma jerked awake at the shout echoing from the backof the house. Sleepy-eyed, she pushed off the couch and willed the hazinessfrom her mind. She had been out of the hospital for just a few days, but shefelt a hundred times better than she had.

A few bruises were still sore to the touch anddiscolored, but the swelling had gone, her busted lip was healed, and her blackeyes were gone.

Calisto came and went from the house with littleexplanation. She didn’t really want to know what he was doing, so she didn’task. If she did, he would probably tell her. She assumed that because Affonso haddecided to go into hiding and leave the rest of his Cosa Nostra to fend forthemselves, that left Calisto to do the boss’s job.

“Lower your voice,” came a familiar growl.

Emma almost stumbled at Affonso’s voice, but she keptwalking down the back hallway toward the office and library.

“You knew exactly what you were doing,” Calistoshouted. “You did all of this—or rather, you stood back and did nothing becauseyou knew in the end that I would be the one who would have to.”

“I told you, Calisto, that one way or another, youwould take my seat in this family.”

Emma swallowed the lump forming in her throat. Shecame to a stop just outside of the office, wondering when Affonso had come homeand why Calisto didn’t tell her he was coming.

“You’re dirty, Affonso,” Calisto said sharply.

“I told you once—clever.”

“Emma was nearly killed. Do you realize that? Yourenforcer was killed. Now we have the police down our throats andknocking on every door they can. And for what, to force me into a positionwhere I would have no other choice but to clean the mess you refused to?”

“To get you to act like a boss,” Affonso snapped back.

“I don’t want to be you!”

“Too late, son.”

Something crashed into the wall with a bang, makingEmma jump. She hugged her arms around her middle, more confused than everbefore.

What was happening?

“Do it,” she heard Affonso murmur. “Pull that trigger,Cal. Can you do it? Can you kill your father?”

“You’re not my father.”

Calisto’s voice was so pained, like his agony waspouring from his soul into his words.

“I am. I made you.”

“No, you forced my life on my mother,” Calisto hissed.“You held her down and raped her when she was weak, drunk, and couldn’t stopyou. She had no choice but to lie to the people who loved her so that Iwouldn’t have to feel like this.”

“Calisto—”

“Like this, Affonso. A product of yourviolence, of your awfulness. She didn’t want me to know, but you didn’t giveher the choice. You don’t get to play God in my life, I told you that once. Sono, you’re not my father.”