Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 126060 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126060 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Again, there was a short silence. It was Salvatore who finally broke it. “We were all thrown by what Stefano did, Geno. I don’t understand it any more than you.”
“It isn’t an excuse to treat you like shit after you cleared the house for me. That can’t have been easy. And acting like an ass to deliberately push Amara away is not only stupid but an act of cowardice.” He pressed his fingertips to the corners of his eyes. “Please forgive me, Danzatrice Ombra, and tell us what you were you were going to say.”
I really am sorry, baby. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. He forced himself to look at her. He wanted her to see he meant his apology, not only to her, but to his brothers.
Amaranthe. The way she looked at him turned him inside out. Her dark eyes softened, and her face wore the sweetest expression. I know what’s wrong, Geno. Your brothers are just as confused as you are.
They aren’t acting like assholes.
You’re acting hurt.
I’m striking out at the three people I love most in the world. I should be striking out at Stefano.
Not necessarily.
He sighed, his gut clenching. He didn’t want to hear what she had to say because he knew it was going to be something reasonable. He didn’t want to be reasonable. He really did want to hit Stefano. It would feel good to take physical action.
“Tell us what you think, Amara, although if I’m honest, I’m not positive I can listen with an open mind. I don’t want to forgive him. I don’t want to understand him. I just want to avoid anything to do with Stefano right now.” Avoiding him meant avoiding violence because Geno wasn’t certain he could see Stefano and remain in control.
“I’ll admit, I feel the same,” Lucca said.
“I want to hear what you have to say,” Salvatore said. “Stefano wasn’t acting at all like himself. Completely out of character.”
“Geno?” Amaranthe waited for confirmation.
He forced himself to nod.
“Clearly, there was an underlying issue with Taviano,” Amaranthe pointed out. “Stefano didn’t want it coming to light. Whatever it was, it triggered what looked to me like a PTSD episode in Taviano. Nicoletta tried to cover for him, but I could see the signs.”
“I did as well,” Salvatore admitted. “Geno? You see everything. I’ve never known you to miss a single detail. What did you see?”
Geno had seen the signs in Taviano. He didn’t want to admit it. Something had been very wrong with Stefano’s youngest brother. That would mean Stefano was protecting him. If Geno were honest with himself, if the circumstances were bad enough, he might stand in front of Salvatore and Lucca, but he would have handled things with Stefano differently. At least he told himself that.
He sighed. He had to be honest. His brothers were waiting. He’d always been honest with them, no matter the cost, even when they were young. He hadn’t softened the blows their parents had given them. They deserved the truth now whether he was ready to deal with it or not.
“Amaranthe’s right. I noticed Taviano was having a difficult time. Elevated heart rate, sweating, his woman protecting him. Stefano was drawing attention away from him.”
“Protecting him as well,” Salvatore concluded.
“Most likely,” Geno acknowledged reluctantly.
“How old would Taviano have been eighteen years ago? That’s around the same time your father had his leg amputated, and you took over the Ferraro territory here in New York, right, Geno?” Amaranthe asked.
Geno nodded slowly, his mind jumping back on track. “Taviano would have been around ten. I’m three years older than he is.”
He could see that shocked Amaranthe. He knew he appeared much older. The weight of responsibility did that to a man. He’d never taken his duties lightly. The safety and training of his brothers had been his number one priority, then learning to be the best shadow rider and leader he could possibly be.
He was also built very differently from Taviano. Taviano looked much like Stefano. Sophisticated. Handsome. Geno was more the brute force type, the criminal type—no matter if he wore a suit, he was always under suspicion. He took care that Lucca and Salvatore appeared to be much more like Stefano, although they did have similar builds to Geno. Genetics were a bitch sometimes. Still, they had the Archambault speed, and they’d benefited from years of training from the Archambault instructors even though he’d interfered when he thought the mentors had been too harsh.
“Do you have any idea where Stefano was eighteen years ago?” Amaranthe asked.
“I’m not certain where I was eighteen years ago,” Geno said. “I’ll have to give it some thought.” He glanced at his watch. “Miranda needs to get out of the front of the shop.” He texted her to close the boutique and then head to the bathroom and lock herself in.