Page 71 of Protecting Charity

Max slid his hand down my thigh while Luca wrapped his arm around my shoulders and ran circles down my collar bone, bringing shivers of delight across my skin. I sipped my juice while eying him from the corners of my vision and notated the happiness that resonated there.

The conversation at breakfast gave the impression to outsiders that everything was normal and there was nothing to see here, but if someone took the time to really pay attention, they’d see that it had only just begun.

Randall set fire to a new desire… settling the score.

Alek sat across from me with his arm draped around Liz, mirroring Luca. His sparkling watch glistened in the light hanging above the table, bringing my attention to the time on the face.

“It’s time to get going,” I said reluctantly.

The conversation and laughter came to a halt as everyone understood where we were heading and why we were all really here together again. I lowered my gaze to my plate as I stood from my seat, then grabbed Luca’s keys from the bowl by the door. Nico grasped my hands, holding the keys, and took them from my hand.

“We have a limo. It was going to be for you and me, but since you invited the entire family, we’ll have to share,” he said, then flashed me a lopsided grin.

It wasn’t the way I wanted to announce to the world that I had a relationship with the Moreno’s, but I’m glad it’ll be out in the open now. It’s been too long.

“I’ll clean this up and meet you all there,” Liz said from behind us while she picked up the plates from the table.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” I said, then grabbed all the plates from her hands and tossed them into the sink, threw the leftovers in the same bin, and tossed it into the fridge, knowing full well I’d never touch it again. “There, all done. If I have to suffer, then so do you.”

“I don’t think that’s how you’re supposed to use that saying,” Liz said, confused with my morbid sense of humor.

Luca rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger and chuckled to himself. He understood, and that was what mattered.

I shuffled out the door with my entourage behind me, then crawled into the seat of the limo with all three men filing in behind.

Nico grabbed an enormous bouquet of pure white Calla Lilies sitting on the minibar, then handed them to me. “Pops said he was sorry he couldn’t be here for you, but he is in spirit and wanted you to have these. He handpicked them for you, and trust me… paying off the warden to have a florist come in so he could look at flowers wasn’t easy, but he did it for you.”

My heart swelled with the thought of the trouble that Arturo and Nico went through just to support me.

“Thank you, Nico. I must thank him in person when this is all over.”

Now that my association was about to come out, Arturo shouldn’t have a problem with my name being on his visitation log.

The limo filled up quickly, and we were soon underway with whispered words and quiet laughter. The atmosphere went from bubbly and bright to heavy and somber once we entered the cemetery, following the incredibly large procession I wasn’t expecting. I thought this was going to be a small gathering of family. It’s not as if Josh had a flock of friends lying around, and we didn’t have a large family.

Max, then Luca, and finally, Nico slipped out the door when we came to a stop at the gravesite, allowing me to decide if I was to stay here and escape or face the music. Luca held his hand out, effectively removing the escape option and leaving me with no choice but to take his hand.

His hand was warm compared to my icy fingers, making them burn in his touch as if I had touched the hand of the devil himself. I gripped him tighter, knowing if I could withstand this moment in time, I could overcome anything this world threw at me.

Frost clung to the blades of grass, tucked away in the shadows, adding a crunch beneath my feet and the feet of the people following me. The funeral hadn’t started just yet, but judging by the glare across my mother’s face, I’d say we were late—correction, I was late.

Standing across the coffin that was ready to make its descent into the ground was my mother. She was in black from head to toe. A black lace veil covered half her face for no other function but for the show, along with a black velvet dress, stockings, and shoes. Her eyes were bloodshot and rimmed with red puffy skin, giving her the appearance of a grief-stricken mother. Would she cry like this at my funeral? It was doubtful.

My father stood beside her, his arm wrapped around her waist, and tissue in the other hand. His gaze caught mine as I looked him over, also noting his red nose and bloodshot eyes. I can’t recall a time I’d ever seen my father cry. He broke away from my gaze to look at the men standing behind me. The wrinkles in his forehead deepened as his eyes widened from the recognition of who they were. When I stood tall and unashamed to be standing next to the men I loved, he lowered his head to stare at the ground and refused to look at me, unlike my mother, who couldn’t take her angry gaze off of me.

When her brows creased with what looked like fear or shock, I turned to follow her line of sight and noted a large crowd of Italians coming this way. They were the other part of my adopted family.

Ignazio, Gavino, Dante, and Vito led the group and behind them their families. A smile bled across my face with a happiness I couldn’t describe.

My father hugged my mother a little tighter, and my aunts, uncles, and a few people from church whispered to each other when the priest stood at the head of the casket, ready to speak. “My name is Father Kane, and I’ll say the last prayer.”

My throat tightened at the announcement, causing my frame to go rigid.

It couldn’t be that easy. Could it? Was I really staring at the one and the same? The man who convinced my big brother that murder was the salvation for his soul to pass through heaven’s gates. Little did this man know, my brother could never right the wrongs of the many he slighted, not with his methods at least.

I lifted my shirt just slightly to pull the punch dagger from my belt buckle as this self-proclaimed Man of God prayed over the coffin. I slipped the blade out of its case and gripped the handle by my side until the blood rushed from my knuckles, causing my fingers to tingle.

A gruff voice whispered in my ear from behind me, “Don’t let your emotions lead. You’ll get what you need in due time.”

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