“Dante, it’s time.” The man who had to be his father came up to us, holding his hand out towards the little boy.
“Okay.” His eyes dimmed, his shoulders slouched, and I knew that whatever I was living through, that child had it much worse.
“Thank you.” The thick and heavily-accented voice of what I now know is Massimo said just as the nurse called my name. “You’re welcome.” I was glad to be able to help them, even if it was only for a few minutes, but I didn’t ask or say anything else, knowing I could be walking towards what could be my own circumstance.
The phone quits ringing. “Finally.” I rise from my place on the bed, needing to get out of the house for a little while, to think about life in general. I have some big decisions to make regarding my future.
CHAPTER 2
MASSIMO
“When are you going to get a clue that I don’t want to talk to you?” The mysterious woman who has eluded me every time I’ve tried to contact her finally answers the phone after I called her twice tonight. Last night, it was only once, but I couldn’t not try again tonight, if only to hear her voice on a recording telling me to leave a message. I barely know her besides her name being Henley Matthews, which I learned at a chance meeting when she helped out Dante while I was consumed by my own emotions, completely forgetting about a little boy who only moments before lost his mother.
“Hello, Henley.” I ignore her rant about her not wanting to talk to me because it appears that persistence most definitely pays off.
“Go away, Massimo. Lose my number. Forget we ever met each other,” Henley says on the other end of the line.
“That’s never going to happen, not until you allow me to thank you for helping Dante,” I respond.
“I’m beginning to think you’re right after that last little mishap,” I admit. Fucking Lorenzo, almost hurting a member of her family, when all I asked him to do was hold a woman for a few minutes while you finish up a meeting only for him to kidnap her, the wrong woman at that. That’s why he’s back in Italy working for the one person he can’t stand: his father.
“What do you mean by mishap?” How could she not know? I waited for backlash from Diamondback, was anticipating it knowing Lorenzo screwed up. I even came up with a plan on how to right the wrong he did. So, when weeks went by and nothing happened, I figured they were biding their time, holding it together to attack when my crew was at their weakest.
“Hmm, I’ll answer that another time. If you’ll answer the phone.” She grumbles something under her breath about men and their overly large egos.
“I’m not answering again, Massimo. In fact, this time, I think I’ll block your number. Besides, you just lost your wife, your son his mother. The last thing I need is your emotional baggage. I’ve got a shit ton of that of my own.” Henley doesn’t hang up the phone like she said she was going to.
“What are you talking about?” I’m not understanding what she said.
“Uncle Massimo?” A little voice that I know like the back of my hand calls out to me. My eyes dart to the doorway. He’s standing there, all of eight years old, and catches my attention. Dante is too old to be carrying around a blanket he got when he was an infant, a habit he grew out of when he started kindergarten. The events of this past month, though, they had him reaching for it, and even I’m not such a cold-hearted bastard to say anything about it.
“I’ll let you go. Massimo, for real, though, quit calling. Your little boy needs you. Goodbye.” With that, the phone clicks off in my ear. Henley isn’t wrong; Dante does need me, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t enough room for her to need me as well.
“What are you doing up so late, Dante?” He was asleep after Hilda made sure dinner was cooked, which we ate sitting at the small table in the kitchen, an unspoken agreement between all of us after what happened to Sienna in the dining room.
“I can’t sleep.” Any other day, I would attempt to get him back into bed, but tonight is different. The guilt eats at me daily. Tonight it seems to be hitting me harder than ever. Dante now doesn’t have his mother because a brain aneurysm took her life quickly. Both Dante and I watched her faint before our eyes. He was panicking, crying and screaming while I called an ambulance. The waiting, that’s what was the worst of it. No, fuck that. There were two other things that had me sinking to my knees—calling my parents, who were in Italy, to let them know their only daughter had passed away from something so completely random with no way of knowing that it could happen; that and telling Dante it was time to say goodbye to his mother. The poor kid has gone through life without a father, a deal gone wrong when he was just an infant before the family business was handed to me. Ultimately, that’s why Papa stepped down. Having that on his conscience plagued him, seeing his daughter grieve her husband while taking care of their newborn. Sienna begged us to let it all fall by the wayside, to step away, let another family take over. It took her time to realize that if our family did that, it’d be another one that could be ten times worse than what we are, especially in the skin industry, something we’ve never traded or dealt with. Some men have no problem selling pussy, but that’s not for us.