Luca the boston syndicat.., p.22
Luca: The Boston Syndicate, Book Two, page 22
“This veal is amazing,” Alessia tells Maeve.
“Finn said it was one of your favorites,” she replies.
It's amazing to me he knows that and his mother made her favorite for her birthday. The most I remember is one of my nannies baking me a cake when I was little.
Tears threaten to prick my eyes when I think about how I’ve missed out on having a family like this my entire life. I clear my throat, trying to dislodge the lump that suddenly appeared. Luca’s hand finds my thigh, and he squeezes gently. When I meet his gaze, he smiles slightly and gives me a wink. Yeah, he knows what I’m feeling. It’s unexpected and overwhelming but in the best way.
After everyone has finished eating, I offer to help with clearing the plates, but Maeve waves me off. “The cook will take care of it. I actually wanted a minute to talk with you, if you don’t mind.”
Unsure of what she has to say, I nod and follow her into another room next to what looks to be Cormac’s office.
Maeve leads me into a room with bookshelves lining the walls. There’s a small desk in one corner and a pale-gray overstuffed chair in the other that looks like the perfect spot to curl up with a book.
“Cormac set this space up for me. We went to dinner at the Amattos’ one night not too long ago and I fell in love with their library. I’d been hounding my husband to build me one, and I think seeing Mario’s lit a fire under his ass.” Maeve chuckles. “Never let it be said my husband will stand by and be outdone by an Italian.”
“Our families certainly enjoy showing off our wealth.” I think about the difference in our estate and the Monaghan’s. Granted, I haven’t seen where Finn lives, but Maeve and Cormac’s house, even though it’s huge, has that comfortable, lived-in feel, not the cold museum I grew up in.
Maeve walks to the other side of her desk, pulls out an envelope and stares at it for a few moments before shutting the drawer and walking toward me.
“I met your mother once,” she starts, and I can tell whatever she’s about to tell me is going to be hard for her. “She found me at church one day after I attended a Wednesday mass. When she introduced herself, I had no idea what to expect. Our husbands were not business associates; quite the opposite. Your mom was so…nervous but determined for me to hear her out. She gave me a letter to give to you when I had a chance. To say I was surprised she came to me is putting it mildly. I told her I may never get the opportunity to speak to you and she said she knew it would find its way to you when the time was right. From one mother to another, she asked me to keep this for you. She was worried that she wouldn’t be around to explain things to you. I asked if I could help her, but she said she had everything handled. This was a just-in-case situation. Quite the long shot, if you ask me. But she had this knowing look in her eye like she had faith that one day I would meet you and be able to talk to you.”
Surprise and shock have my head spinning as I listen to her. She met my mother before she died?
Maeve lets out a huff of air. “Cormac absolutely forbade me from approaching you. Said it would do nothing but cause problems, and we already had enough of those with your father.” She hands me the letter. “I know what she did the night Luca disappeared. I can’t say I forgive her for telling Frank to leave with my nephew, but part of me understands. To raise children in this life…is a decision not everyone is comfortable with. I’m sure there’re plenty of people who think we raise murderers and thieves. That we were having kids to churn out more criminals. But that’s not what this life ever meant to me. It’s not only my husband and our boys that live by their own code. I do too.” Maeve gives me a sad smile. “I’ll never fully understand what was going through your mom’s mind that night, but I won’t keep this from you. Our mistakes are ours, and you and Luca don’t deserve to pay for anyone else’s sins.”
I take the letter from her hand and immediately recognize my mother’s handwriting. I don’t move, don’t breathe, just stare. I haven't seen her handwriting since she died.
“I’ll give you a minute,” Maeve says, squeezing my arm on the way out.
I nod absentmindedly, still staring at the envelope in my hand. She leaves, and I sit on the edge of the overstuffed chair and open the envelope. When I unfold the note inside, there’s a picture tucked in the paper. It’s me when I was probably barely one and a man holding my arms up like he’s helping me stand. He’s smiling into the camera. It matches the wide, toothy grin on my young face. He’s dressed in the usual uniform of one of the guards, white shirt, black pants, and a gun holster around his shoulders. It’s his smile that captivates me. It’s not just wide like mine is in the picture—it looks exactly like mine. My hands shake as I start reading the letter.
Dearest Giada,
Oh sweet girl, how I hope you never read this letter. If you do, it means I’m not there with you, living a happy life far away from Francesco. It will mean that he found out about my plan to leave him and this life. I can only pray that he kept you safe as best as he could and he never discovered what I have spent the last six years hiding from him. Francesco isn’t your real father. Your real father is the man in the picture with you. His name is Marco Talesio. He’s my personal guard, and we didn’t mean to, but we fell in love. He doesn’t know you’re his. I was too afraid if he knew, he wouldn’t be able to hide the truth. It kills me every day to not be able to be honest with him. But if I am and Francesco finds out, it will mean death for us all. Although if this letter finds you, it means I’m gone.
Marco already loves you so much, my sweet baby girl. This is the only picture I have of him and it’s my favorite of you. You have his smile and his big heart. I can see it in you now and you’re only five. I’m so sorry I won’t see you turn into the woman you’re going to become. I’ve made so many mistakes, Giada, but falling in love with Marco isn’t one of them. Having you will never be one of them. He was the only man I felt truly happy with, and I hope one day you can find the same. If you never read this letter, then it means you have a shot at it. If you do read this letter, then I’m not sure what your future will hold. But know I will always love you and your brother, even if I’m only able to watch over you from heaven.
I love you so much,
Mama
Tears are pouring down my face as I read her words. Carlo told me all of this over the phone, well, most of it. But seeing it in her words—in her handwriting—there’s none of the disdain that was in Carlo’s voice when he explained Francesco wasn’t my real father. My mother loved my real father and wanted a life where we would be safe away from the clutches of this world and Francesco.
A knock sounds at the door, and Luca peeks his head in.
As soon as he sees the tears dripping down my cheeks, he rushes over and kneels in front of me. “What’s going on?” he asks, cupping my cheeks in his strong palms. “Did someone say something to you?”
I shake my head and hand him the picture. “This was in a letter my mom asked Maeve to give me.”
Luca’s eyes scan the letter. “Why would she ask Maeve?”
“I don’t know. She was probably the only person my mom didn’t have to worry about reporting back to my father.”
He looks at the picture, then to me. “This is your father.” It’s not a question.
“His name was Marco.”
Luca gathers me in his sturdy arms and holds me, letting me cry. Is this how he felt when Frank showed him a picture of his dead parents that he never had the chance to know? Completely devastated and missing something to the very marrow of your bones that you never really had? Because, it turns out, not only do I have more in common with my husband than I could have thought, I have more in common with my mother.
I’ve fallen wholly and completely in love with my bodyguard.
Chapter nineteen
Luca
When Maeve told me my wife needed me and where to find her, I was worried the woman had said something to upset her. Finn explained the situation I grew up in to my aunt, and to say she took it well would be a gross overstatement. I appreciated the fact he took it upon himself to tell her my story. I still have so many mixed emotions about Frank. I don’t know how I would have handled that conversation.
After walking into Maeve’s library and seeing Giada crying on the chair with a picture and a letter in her hand, I had no idea what to expect. Never in a million years did I think she’d be reading a note from her dead mother given to her by the wife of her father’s enemy. I can’t begin to know what her mother was thinking or why she thought Maeve would ever have the opportunity to give this to Giada. But desperate people do desperate things. If she was ready to risk her life and run with her daughter and son, I’d imagine that’s as desperate as it gets.
“This is crazy, right? It’s not just me?” Giada asks.
“What, sweetheart?”
“That my mother went to your aunt, knowing what she did about your disappearance when you were a baby. Why wouldn’t she have told your aunt about you? She felt comfortable enough to give her a letter like this, but she was never honest with her.”
“I think your mother hated what this life did to people, and maybe in some part of her mind, she thought she’d done the right thing. She knew Frank would keep me away from this world. Her trying to take you and Carlo proves she wanted no part in it. I didn’t know her, so I can’t say what was going through her mind when she delivered this to my aunt.”
I wish to hell I did though. But if Cormac and Maeve had found out that Frank had taken me to California, would they have come to take me back? The answer to that question is a resounding yes, and Cormac would have killed Frank in the process. Of that, I’m one one-hundred-percent sure.
“The truth is, we’ll never know,” Giada says, calmer than she was when I walked into the room. “I’m not going to allow the sins of our parents to affect me at this point. I’ve spent my entire life doing that. You’re right; we’re never going to know what my mother was thinking when she went to your aunt.” Giada holds up the picture of Marco and her. “I vaguely remember him,” she says with a small grin. “My mom was always happy when he was around.”
“You look a lot like him. I see him in your smile.”
“I wonder if he ever suspected he was my real father.”
I shake my head. “We’ll have to chalk it up to one of the things we’ll never know.”
That list seems to be getting longer and longer.
“I feel bad for saying this, but I’m glad she had him. At least for a little while, she had someone who loved her and made her happy.” Giada looks at me with an unsure smile mixed with a touch of guilt.
“You should never feel bad for being glad your mom had some happiness. It’s okay to separate the people we love from the mistakes they made, especially if they aren’t here to defend themselves.”
“You’re awfully calm about this. I would think, of anyone, you’d be the most upset about what my mother did, then her having the audacity to approach your aunt to ask her to give me this.” She holds the paper between us.
I lift my shoulder and blow out a breath. “I love my dad. Not Elio, but Frank. Do you think I should hate him or completely disregard the years spent thinking he was my father and loved me because I found out the truth?” She shakes her head. “I’ve just had more time than you to come to terms with people we love not always doing the right thing. Or at least the right thing in our eyes.” I kiss the top of her head. “I’m not saying it’s easy or that I got here overnight. There are days I still struggle, still feel like it’s a betrayal to my family that I love the man who stole me and lied to me. But I stopped letting it consume me a long time ago. I found peace with it, even if I don’t understand it.”
Giada gives me a watery smile. “You’re pretty amazing, Luca Bennetti.”
I kiss her sweet lips. “Right back at you, Mrs. Bennetti.”
The celebration continues with a birthday cake and more wine for my wife. When we came out of the room, Alessia looked between Giada and me and gave me a knowing smile. Who would have thought her advice about communication would be all it takes to find a deeper understanding and acceptance of both our pasts? It’s not like there’s some sort of guide for how to work through all this shit.
Giada is talking animatedly with Gemma and Alessia about some story involving her cousin and a trip they took to Spain a few years ago. I love how comfortable she’s become in the short time she’s known Alessia and Gemma. Though I rarely saw the charming side of my wife when she was a bratty teenager in high school, she’s shining tonight. Although, I suppose it could be the wine.
It strikes me that we’ve never talked about what’s going to happen after her brother is dealt with. The only time I mentioned anything about her being free after this was handled was the day of our wedding. So much has changed between us since then, but the fact still remains that Giada doesn't want any part of this life. I don’t know exactly what’s in store for me within the Monaghan organization after all is said and done, but it’s not like I have many options for future employment. I don’t think mole for the Irish mob is something you can put on a resumé.
While Finn and Eoghan discuss something or other about the next bar they want to organize a fight night at, I think about my future. Honestly, I never gave anything much thought as far as after. I wasn’t sure I’d make it out alive, so the idea of planning a future seemed a little far-fetched at the time. Will Finn want to put me on a crew? Where will I live? Will Giada be living with me? We haven’t discussed any of this.
“You ever thought about getting in the ring?” Eoghan asks. “I bet after a bit of training, you would be a hell of a fighter.”
I shoot him a half smile. “I’m more a lover than a fighter,” I reply as Giada walks up to me, and I wrap my arm around her shoulder.
“Tell that to the guy whose nose you broke a few months ago at the club,” she says.
Finn chuckles and Eoghan laughs along.
“Are you about ready to go home?” I ask Giada, her glazed eyes finding mine. My wife is a bit tipsy, it seems.
“Sure,” she replies.
“We’re going to head out, too,” Finn says before catching his wife’s eye. “It’s a rare night where neither of us are expected at the casino and I’d like to take my wife home and…”
“Please don’t finish that sentence, Finnegan Monaghan,” Maeve says, walking up behind her son.
“What? I was going to say give her the present I left at the house.”
“Oh, present?” Alessia asks, walking up to the group.
“Mmhmm,” Finn hums. “You’re going to love it.”
“I didn’t tell you what I wanted,” Alessia says.
Finn rolls his eyes dramatically. “Haven’t you learned by now, wife? I know what makes that heart inside of you tick. You think I need you to tell me what to get you?”
Alessia smiles and kisses Finn on the mouth. “Fair.”
We say our goodbyes and head out the door. I tuck Giada into her seat and start the car, pulling out to the main road behind Finn. We aren’t driving for more than five minutes before I notice the car behind us coming up way too fast. Before I have time to warn Giada, the dark sedan rams us from behind. I swerve but am able to keep our car on the road.
“Holy shit, Luca!” Giada yells, twisting in her seat.
“Turn around,” I tell her, speeding up, trying to get the hell away from whoever is in the car behind us.
I grab my phone and call Finn. “We have a tail. They just tried to run me off the road.”
Just then, the car behind us rams into us again, but this time, I'm not so lucky. Our car goes off the side of the highway, flipping down the embankment as Giada screams before landing on its side against a tree.
I’m jarred from the impact but manage to get my seat belt off. “Giada,” I call, my hands cupping her cheeks while my frantic eyes look into hers.
She’s dazed but doesn’t appear injured. “I’m okay, I’m okay.”
As the words leave her lips, I hear the sound of heavy boots coming toward us. I look out the window as the masked man raises his gun and opens fire into the car. My body covers Giada as best as I can while she’s still belted into her seat, and I pray my cousin is already out there.
When the shooting stops, Finn shouts, “Luca. Talk to me.”
Other than the broken glass that rained over me, I don’t think I was hit. “I’m okay.” I remove myself from Giada’s front, and to my horror, I come away with blood covering my light-gray shirt. I look at Giada, and her eyes are wide with terror. “Luca?” she asks before we both look down and see the blood pumping from her shoulder.
“Oh God. Finn, Giada’s been hit,” I yell and look into my wife’s eyes. “You’re going to be okay, baby. We’ll get out of here and get you stitched up.” Before I finish my sentence, her eyes close and her body goes limp, only being held in place by the belt around her chest. “Finn, hurry up.”
He rushes to the front window that's been shot out by our would-be assassin’s bullets and looks inside. “Shit,” he hisses as Alessia comes up behind him, a look of shock and fear marring her features.
“Okay, Luca, I need you to hold her while you undo the belt. I’m going to reach in and have you hand her to me through the window. Alessia, call the doctor and let him know we're on our way. His contact information is in my phone in the car.” Alessia nods and turns, running toward the car parked on the side of the street.
As gently as I can, I release Giada from the seat belt and pass her to Finn, doing my damndest not to jostle her. Once she’s safely in his arms, I crawl out of the window myself and look at my wife’s pale face. Ripping the shirt from my body, I put it over the wound on Giada’s chest. We hurry up the embankment, Finn with Giada in his arms and me applying pressure to where she’s shot. Alessia opens the back door of the sedan, and I quickly climb in before he passes my wife to me. I continue holding the shirt to her chest as Finn rushes around the car and hops in the driver’s seat.
