Mafia Don’s Secret Twins: Chapter 6

Sal, Elio, Marco and I are sitting at the kitchen table. Caterina, having put the kids to bed, and Gia, who sits back with a taser like she’s some kind of sheriff, are lurking nearby.

Caterina refuses to speak to Marco. Ever since he showed his face, she’s absolutely refused to look at him, or talk to him. It’s clearly bothering Marco, and I heartily approve.

Good job, little sister. Don’t let him off easy.

I would be just fucking fine if I never talked to Marco again. Caterina, clearly, feels the same way. However, Marco has decided that this particular issue is of interest to all of us.

So, here we all fucking are.

Marco leans forward, putting his hands on the table. The gesture is so reminiscent of our dad that my eyes slide to the side.

I see Sal looking back at me, and I know he’s thinking the same thing.

If I’m going to experience Marco’s bullshit, at least it’s nice to have someone who knows what I’m going through.

Marco shifts, clearing his throat like he’s a king about to announce something. “Obviously I’ve been gone,” Marco starts.

I snort.

I can’t fucking hold it in. Marco saying that he’s been ‘gone’ is like saying a hurricane is a rainstorm. He vanished, completely and totally, and left us all in varying states of discomfort because of it.

I at least knew why, but it took a while to find him.

Annoying prick.

“If gone is what you wanna fucking call it,” I mutter under my breath.

Marco gives me a glance but doesn’t address the statement.

Somehow, that makes it even worse. I’d rather have him rage at me than just…. Sit there.

I drum my fingers against my arm. I’m not about to say where Marco’s been, and add even more chaos to this fire.

Since he’s supposedly been doing it to save my ass.

Marco shuffles, his hands resting gently on the table. “A while back, Dino came to me and told me that he had children with Marisol Souza.”

The room, which was already quiet, suddenly drops into dead silence.

My rage feels like it’s choking me. It tugs at my throat, and it’s all I can do to not hurl myself across the table and grab Marco by the throat.

How dare he fucking tell my business like this?

“Relax,” Caterina whispers to my ear. “If he’s doing this without a good reason, I’m going to scream at him.”

My anger diminishes slightly, with gratitude for my sister filling some of the space.

She brushes against me, offering me more comfort and I let her.

Marco levels Caterina and I with a stare.

I refuse to cower in front of him, and from Caterina’s stiffening next to me, I can tell she feels the same way.

He looks away. “Given that Benicio Souza is who he is, I approached the situation with the utmost care. In exchange for international police protection for Marisol and her children, I offered to become a witness for Interpol against the Irish.”

You can practically hear Elio’s brain start to melt.

A string of curses in Italian flows out of him so quickly, even I am kind of impressed. Caterina drifts over to him, patting him gently on the hand. It doesn’t really seem to help.

The whole scene would be kind of comical, if I wasn’t also certain that Elio is already plotting a thousand ways to have Marco killed quickly after he’s done.

I exchange a look with Caterina, who is still saying soothing things to Elio, and gently rubbing his arm. Elio’s redder than a tomato, so I’m not entirely certain it’s working. The room is dead silent except for his breath, which is sawing in and out of his lungs, making him sound like a bull.

I guess I’ll defend Marco, if Elio tries to throttle him. But I think Sal would probably, like a traitor, back Elio up. I’m going through the mental calculations of whether I could beat Sal and Elio together when Elio finally murmurs something to Caterina, and shakes his head. He takes one more deep, wheezing breath.

Finally, he looks up at Marco. “So why the fuck are you here then? Here to find more of our secrets so you can sell them?”

Marco’s eyebrows shoot up. “I heard that my nieces were on the run from their ruthless grandfather, who sent his best and most terrifying assassin after them. There are also some…” his voice trails off, and he glances to the side. “Complications with the bargain,” he finishes.

I narrow my eyes. “Complications?”

“There are other actors at play, and Interpol is not immune to the influence from dirty cops,” he says darkly.

A fissure of concern races down my spine. “Are the girls in danger?” I growl.

“Not if they’re here,” Elio rumbles.

I settle slightly at that. I know that Elio wouldn’t let anything happen to his family, so mine being here puts at least a little umbrella of protection over them.

Until it doesn’t.

I squint at him. He better fucking mean it.

Or there’s going to be hell to pay.

“Benicio Souza has never taken an interest in his grandchildren, for whatever reason. Marisol, however, is clearly his favorite daughter, and favorite child among the horde of bastards that he’s sired over the years,” Marco continues. “So, when he announced that he’s ready to marry off his favorite child, you can imagine the impact on the international community.”

My insides feel like they’re seizing up. “Marisol isn’t going to marry anyone,” I growl at him. “She’s fucking mine.”

“Except she very much is not,” Marco responds. “And while she’s here…”

“She’s gone,” Gia interrupts. We all shuffle to look at her. “She’s gone,” Gia announces again and I think she’s repeating it for my sake, my jaw works, my chest tightens, fuck! “Left a while ago.”

“Do we know if Moretti found her?” Marco asks.

I growl again at the thought of that psycho coming close to my Marisol.

“One can assume. Moretti isn’t exactly easy to find unless he wants to be found. And,” Gia adds softly, “Marisol was highly motivated to leave.”

I feel the weight of everyone’s stares as they turn to look at me.

I bristle. “I don’t fucking care,” I bark. “She’s mine. She doesn’t belong to him, or to them⁠—”

“She doesn’t belong to anyone, Dino,” Marco cuts me off. “But she does get to choose the future that she wants.”

I narrow my eyes. “She would never choose him.” She would never choose anyone other than me.

“I think she made that choice already,” Caterina says softly.

Caterina looks at me with so much sadness, I feel the truth of her statement echo into my bones.

Gone.

It’s too fucking hot in this room. I can’t fucking breathe. I can’t…

I can’t lose her to someone else.

Not again.

Gone.

I turn and grab the door handle, ripping it open. I don’t give a fuck that it bounces off of the wall as I fling it open and I storm into the hall.

I keep going until I make it out to the garden. To the front gate.

Then, I pause.

It’s dark. The woods around Elio’s estate are silent.

The night is so quiet, it feels like it’s suffocating me.

I open my mouth and I yell as loud as I can with my damaged vocal cords.

It’s a primal, feral sound. All of my rage, all of my anger, it’s all there, echoing out and ripping the silence of the night apart.

I don’t give a fuck that Elio’s security guards hear. I hope they do.

I hope the whole fucking world finally hears me for once.

When I’m done, my chest heaves and I stare down the driveway. I’m not sure exactly what I’m waiting for.

Because it’s not Marisol. Marisol, who walked away. Marisol, who left me.

Again.

“Well, I hope that felt good,” I hear Marco say from behind me.

I spin. “The fuck do you want?” I spit at him.

He stares at me, his eyes glimmering in the dark. My own anger, diffused by my random scream, seems to claw at me again.

It’s hard for me to look at Marco without becoming angry, if I’m being honest.

Dad always took much more time to spend with Marco than me. Hell, even Caterina and Sal got more attention from our sperm donor than I had.

Mom was a different story. But still, seeing Marco glare at me in the darkness…

He’s much more of a father figure to me.

And he looks so much like our actual father, broadcasting that same disappointment in me with every fucking muscle in his body, that I just want to wipe the expression off of his face.

Right as I’m about to scream at him, however, Marco’s face shifts slightly. He sighs.

“You’re going to go after her, aren’t you?”

I nod.

Marco’s face takes on an expression that I don’t necessarily recognize. It’s a shadow between his eyes that fades nearly as quickly as I notice it.

I’m still trying to figure out what that expression means when Marco sighs.

“You’re going to get yourself killed if you do it alone, you dick. Come with me.”

I narrow my eyes. “The hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I’m your brother. I’m not going to let you die. So come with me, and we can make sure that you at least stand some chance of making it out of this with your fucking life.”

Despite my clear reluctance, Marco takes me back into Elio’s house. No one else is in the kitchen; it’s just the two of us.

I’m aware that anyone could be listening, but I have a feeling that Marco’s handled that as well.

I can’t think about the details, anyway. All I can think about is Marisol, and the way that Caterina looked at me with so much pity in her face.

The fact that she looked at me like it was a done deal. Like Marisol wasn’t going to come back.

Like it was over for me, and she was getting ready to watch my heart break.

Before I even knew what was coming.

Marco gestures to the kitchen table. I fold my arms and stare at the chair he’s indicating, and he huffs.

“You don’t have to be so disagreeable,” he snaps as he settles into a seat.

“What the fuck do you want with me, Marco?” I growl.

His eyes narrow. “You’re acting awfully testy for someone who doesn’t have a lot of fans to begin with.”

Well.

Thanks, brother.

I glare at him.

Marco sighs. “Dino. If anyone deserves the hatred, it’s not me.”

“It isn’t?”

“No.”

I growl. “How can you say that, Marco? You’re the one who lies to your family constantly.”

“Have I lied to you, Dino?”

I narrow my eyes.

Marco tilts his head to the side slightly. “There are many times, I admit, that I am not entirely forthcoming with the information that I have. But I have never once misled you. I have always protected you, brother, even when you came to me with your biggest mistakes.”

“Marisol and the girls are not a mistake,” I seethe at him.

He shrugs. “They may not be. But there have not been many intentional decisions made on your part around them.”

“You motherfuc….”

The insult dies in my throat as Marco silences me with a glance.

I hate that he can do that to me.

“My point, brother, is that you do not make a great deal of decisions with purpose. You often act, and then deal with the circumstances that arise. Or, you ask for my help in doing so.”

“And you hate that, don’t you?”

Marco shakes his head. “Dino, if I hated it, I wouldn’t help.”

I don’t know what to say to that.

“Did Dad help, when you found yourself in situations like this? When your mouth wrote a check that you couldn’t cash?”

Studying him, I consider his words. Dad didn’t help me at all. He looked down on me, always angry with me. Always making an effort to point out how I’d fucked up.

He never offered to help.

“No,” I mutter reluctantly.

“I know. I was there. The point isn’t that Dad was cruel to you, Dino, even if he was. The point is that I am not.”

“But you…”

“I never said I didn’t keep secrets from Elio. Or Sal. Or Caterina,” he says softly.

That does make me pause.

Marco looks at me for a second. Marco and I are close in age. Close enough that it’s almost suspicious. He’s older than I am, but only by ten months, and that’s where the similarities between us end.

Marco is built like dad. Thick. Broad. We’re both tall, but he’s slightly shorter than I am, with thick brown hair and heavyset eyebrows.

We have our mother’s eyes, I guess.

But I’ve buried every genetic similarity I have to my siblings under tattoos. I’ve never worked out like Marco, or even done sports like Sal, but I’ve spent every fucking second I could in my life learning how to fight.

I might not look thick like Marco, but if you’re going to get punched by one of us, you don’t want it to be me.

It won’t just be a punch. I’ll have a knife in there too. That’s for damn sure.

Still, when Marco looks at me with that glare, it reminds me so much of dad that I…

I glance away.

“I don’t keep secrets from you, Dino. I never have.”

His voice is… different.

I look back at him.

Marco shuts his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. He inhales, exhaling in a long sigh.

He looks tired.

For the first time in a long time, a fissure of concern about my older brother spikes through me. I went to find him when he went into hiding because I had to. I had to know what he was doing, had to know how I could continue to protect my girls.

Had to know if he was going to ruin my life.

But Marco did go into hiding… for me. He chose to work with Interpol.

I think.

“You look bad,” I say.

It’s the closest I’ve ever come to asking my older brother if he’s okay.

Marco’s eyes snap open. “Did I ask you to be a fucking beauty consultant, Dino?”

“You didn’t ask me for shit,” I snap back.

Marco leans forward, his elbows on the table. “I know you’re going to go after her.”

“I am,” I say flatly.

He nods. “Good.”

“Good?”

My brother smiles at me. “For the first time in your life, Dino, do something with intent. Instead of just dealing with the situation as you make it, let’s actually get you into a place where you’re in control. You’re the one determining what you want. You want her?”

I nod.

“Then you need to fucking get her.”

I sit. “I don’t know how to defeat Moretti,” I state.

He shakes his head. “That’s the wrong question. You don’t need to ask about how to defeat Moretti. There’s a way to win everything, without having to take down Benicio Suarez and his den of killers.”

“How?” I ask.

I need to know.

Marco nods. “You need to win the competition. You need to win, fair and square, so Marisol is yours.”

I huff. “Yeah fucking right.”

“Don’t, Dino.”

Marco’s face is dead serious.

“Don’t what?”

“Underestimate yourself. You always do.”

“What…”

“The first problem is that you can’t enter the competition for Marisol’s hand without leading an organization.”

I roll my eyes. “Well I’m fucked from the beginning then.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Come on, Marco,” I scoff. “Everyone knows you’re the head of our family. Elio and Gia own the Rossi empire.”

Marco hesitates, uncertainty flickering across his face.

I tilt my head. “What?”

“There is an option,” he says quietly.

Confusion makes me frown. “What do you mean?”

Marco takes a huge breath, then lets it go. “There is a business. An organization that you stand to inherit.”

“Marco, you’re being fucking stupid, I already told you…”

“You are not our father’s son, Dino,” he says quietly.

My jaw drops.

The world spins.

“The fuck did you say?”