CHAPTER 12
JULIA

I stomped into Uncle Stefano’s house and charged up to my room. I didn’t even bother shutting the damn door behind me. I took the steps two-by-two and raced straight for Matteo’s room.

I needed to be around him.

I opened his door and saw him sleeping in his bed and tears welled in my eyes. He even looked like his father when he slept. His disgusting father who was turning into nothing more than his grandfather he would never know.

I closed Matteo’s door and whipped around on my heels, making my way to my own room.

I was shaking. Trembling. It was hard to breathe. Hard to think. I couldn't believe I’d had sex with Romeo again. He’d lied straight to my face. Told me he wanted peace before dodging my question about the gun runners. He was guilty. I knew he was. His lack of an answer told me everything I needed to know.

Romeo was responsible for those killings.

“Julia.”

“Get the fuck out, Enrico.”

I heard my bedroom door shut before he made his way toward me.

“Get out,” I said breathlessly.

“What happened?” Enrico asked.

I grimaced as images flashed through my mind. How I begged him for more. How I pulled him closer to me. How my lips swelled against Romeo’s and how his cock filled me so perfectly. We fit together like puzzle pieces. Two parts of a whole that were made to be together. But he was shrouded in darkness, and I couldn't see his jagged edges. Every time I got close enough to see the boy I left behind, something would snag me.

Make me bleed.

“You were right,” I said breathlessly. “Romeo did it.”

I felt Enrico’s hand come down onto my back, and I flinched. I pressed my head into the wall and tried to hold back most of my tears. I didn’t want to feel this weak any longer. I didn't want to become that woman again. That meek, mild, tender-hearted woman who wanted to see the best in everyone. I had to see people for what they were. I had a son I needed to protect, and it required me to always see through the bullshit.

But I wanted so desperately to believe Romeo. Maybe I should have let him explain.

“Tigers can rarely change their stripes, Julia.”

“That wasn’t the Romeo I remembered,” I said.

“He comes from a family built on blood and violence. He saw it all the time as a child like you did. And that kind of things affects men differently than it does women,” Enrico said.

“Is this supposed to make me feel better?” I asked.

Enrico sighed as his hand fell from my back.

“I want you to be okay, but I also want you to not let your past memories blind you. He sits in his father’s seat now. A man who raised him. It’ll be close to impossible for him to not fall back into what he knows.”

“I’m not like my father.”

“You also don’t sit in his seat,” Enrico said.

“Romeo isn’t like that. He can’t be like that,” I said.

“Why? Because you don’t want him to be? Because you want him to be the perfect father?”

“Don’t you bring Matteo into this.”

“But it’s what you’re thinking. You think that because you had a son with him that it’s supposed to make him a better man, but it doesn’t. Romeo doesn’t know Matteo. Only of his existence. You can’t expect a child to change—”

“Get out,” I said.

“Julia, listen.”

“Leave me the hell alone, Enrico.”

I watched him sigh dejectedly before he turned his back. He made his way to the door and opened it before he turned around. I could see the hurt in his eyes from my dismissal of him, but he wasn’t helping. I knew the truth. I knew, deep down, that this might not be possible.

But I also knew a different side of Romeo, a side I knew still existed behind the angry walls he kept up.

Enrico left the room, and I flopped down onto my bed. I wanted to cry, but I wouldn’t allow myself. I needed to be strong, and I needed to find a way to sort through my emotions before Matteo got up.

But one thing was certain.

I couldn’t trust myself to see Romeo again.

“Knock-knock.”

“What, Uncle?” I asked.

“I come bearing juice.”

I heard my bedroom door open as I sighed and sat up on my bed. My uncle padded across the room with two glasses of freshly-pressed juice in his hands. He sat down beside me and handed me one, and I drank it without taking my lips off the glass once. I was thirsty. Desperate to erase the taste of Romeo from my lips. The apple juice slid down my throat and trickled from the side of my mouth, and I felt Stefano brush it away.

Like my father used to do when I was younger.

“Would you like to tell me why Enrico looks like you slugged him in the stomach?” Stefano asked.

“Because he forgets his place sometimes,” I answered.

“You were always spunky like your father,” he said. “What’s going on? Did you meet with Romeo for coffee?”

“Yes. And it didn’t go well. Again.”

“Let me guess. Enrico tried to reason with you.”

“He did.”

“I need to tell that man that he can’t reason with a woman who’s upset.”

I shook my head as I twirled the empty glass in my fingers.

“There was an article in the newspaper,” I said.

“What kind of article?” Stefano asked.

“Three gun runners dead on the dock. Enrico told me he felt Romeo was behind it, but I didn't believe him.”

“Ah.”

“Did you know it was Romeo?” I asked.

I looked into my uncle’s eyes, and he sighed.

“I had a feeling. But I couldn’t be sure. I know there have been rumors about the Martine family wanting to seek out peace as well, but I also know there are people in their ranks that aren’t happy about it. At the very least, I figured Romeo might’ve tried to talk his way out of things, and his bodyguards got trigger-happy.”

“So there is a chance Romeo didn’t kill anyone,” I said, hating how pie-eyed and pathetic I sounded.

“I didn’t say that. Romeo still has control over those men. He does sit at the head of the family table now.”

“He wouldn't give me a straight answer. All he said was that he was trying to undo the knots his father had tied around the family’s neck or something like that. I don’t know.”

“He’s not wrong in that Julia,” Uncle Stefano said.“Malaphors,” he said.

“What?”

“Romeo uses malaphors.”

“What’s that?’

“Mixing metaphors. It’s called a ‘malaphor.’ Like when someone says ‘it’s not rocket surgery.’”

I furrowed my brow at my uncle, and he chuckled.

“You always know the most useless tidbits of knowledge, you know that?” I asked.

“I’m good at crossword puzzles,” he said as he raised his glass.

“I’m angry with him, Uncle. He promised me he wanted to bring peace to the families. Then two days later, he’s slaughtering men on the docks.”

“He did leave the guns behind.”

“For any number of reasons,” I said.

I watched my uncle nod, and I was hoping someone was finally stepping to my side of this thing.

“What if I told you that I thought I could talk some sense into him?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I know I can help steer Romeo down a better course. Right the ship that seems to be taking on water from many sides he doesn’t even see. Mutiny’s looming over his shoulder, and if he wants to dig his family out from their self-made shadows, he’s going to be facing a lot of trials.”

“I don’t like the way you’re talking.”

“I believe the whispers, that the Martine family is looking for peace like I am. But peace doesn't always come without war. There will be people on both sides who don’t want that, who want things to remain the way they were. They will choose to stay in the past instead of leaping into the future. I can tell you this won’t be the last time something like this happens.”

“But he promised,” I said breathlessly.

“A man’s promise is always his bond, but that doesn't mean its execution happens the way a woman wants, Julia. If you can talk with him and plant the seed of having a meeting with me, I can help. Romeo and I can tackle the issues—”

“No,” I said.

My uncle’s eyes hardened on the side of my face as I bowed my head.

“I won’t see him again,” I said.

“You have to trust me, Julia. If meeting with you is doing this much harm, then I can step in and try. But I can’t simply approach him. The opposition would view it as a hostile act. He has to reach out to me, and that means you need to plant a seed.”

“Why can’t you reach out to him?” I asked.

“Because there are circumstances surrounding your father’s death that would make my phone call seem like a set up for retaliation.”

I slowly panned my gaze up to my uncle’s eyes.

“My father’s death?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“You said he died in a car accident.”

“He did.”

“Then why would you talking with the Martine—”

I scurried off the bed as my heart rate began to accelerate. I felt that apple juice creeping up the back of my throat.

“Are you telling me?”

“We have no proof, Julia. Only whispers. The coroner we hired to do the autopsy said your father died instantly in that car accident. And that the driver was drunk.”

“But you don’t believe him,” I said.

“I have my doubts. There are whispers in the Martine family that we lashed out at Romeo’s father and killed him in retaliation for the supposed death of your father.”

I put my head in my hands as tears crept up the backs of my eyes.

“When will it stop?” I asked.

My back fell against the wall. I slid down to my ass in exasperation.

I felt my Uncle sit down next to me before his hand settled on my knee.

“You have to see the bigger picture here, Julia. You have a son to take into account and a very serious task ahead of you. I can’t do this without you. I need you to cooperate with me and not allow your emotions to get the best of you.”

I dropped my hands from my face and scooted away from his grasp.

“You won’t bully me into this,” I said. “I’m not ever standing in the same room with that man again.”

“Listen,” he said, finally losing his patience. “Your father’s death affected all of us. We’re all grieving. We’re all hurting. Even after two years of him being gone. But this is a chance he never got. A chance to stop the bloodshed the last fifteen years has brought. And you owe it to him to try. You owe it to that little boy of yours to try.”

My eyes hardened on my uncle as I scrambled to my feet. I watched him get up and tower over me. Looming. Like my father used to do whenever I’d stepped out of line.

“Eventually, Romeo is going to come for his son. And if you burn bridges because of your stubbornness, you're going to lose him. You don’t stand a chance against the forces Romeo has at his disposal.”

“Are you saying you won’t defend your only nephew if I piss you off?” I asked.

“I’m saying you were born into a circumstance you got away from once. Your father dragged you away, but you came back. And you came back for a reason. I believe that reason was to unite your family. To see if Romeo could be the father you know Matteo needs in his life. And if you’re not willing to fight for that, then you don’t deserve the man you’re searching for.”

“You’re trying to manipulate me, and it won’t work,” I said. “That was a dirty tactic my father used on me many times, and you won’t get away with it.”

I took a step toward my uncle, and he backed down. He settled onto the balls of his feet and rolled his shoulders back. His facial features softened, and he cleared his throat, smoothing his hands over his chest.

“You have your father’s strength,” my uncle said. “That steely resolve that can quiet a room. But it would do you well to think about what I’ve said.”

Instead of answering, I lifted my chin in defiance and stared my uncle down. “Being a stubborn woman won’t get you what you seek, Julia. If you don’t want peace and if you don’t want Romeo, then leave. Take Enrico, and your son, and head back upstate. Live your life as you see fit.I’ll makes sure no one will come after you. But if you stay, I will assume you want to help. Which means you’ll have to stop fighting and start cooperating.”

I clenched my fists at my sides as Stefano made his way to the door. He closed it behind him, and I could hear Matteo rustling around in his bed. He was getting up from his nap, and he would surely want to go do something fun. It sounded good because I didn’t want to be in the house any longer.

I wasn’t going to allow a killer to be in my son’s life. I wasn’t going to allow him to know a father who was a ruthless and cold-hearted criminal. None of it sounded like Romeo, but all of the evidence pointed to the contrary. I’d give Stefano the benefit of the doubt and think about things, but it wouldn't likely change my mind.

The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to go back upstate.

The farther away from Romeo I could get, the better.