Page 151 of Vicious Games

“Of course, sweetheart,” my mother replies, squeezing her hand.

Gio helps Mom off the couch, placing a hand on the small of her back.

“If you need anything, just ask, Frances. You’re family now.” He offers her a kind smile followed by a sympathetic one my way before ushering my mother out the door.

I follow them out and close the door behind them, giving Frankie and me the moment of privacy she asked for.

But when she doesn’t say anything and just stares at the floor, my nerves start to fray.

“You know,” I start, trying to lighten the mood, “when I was a kid, I used to be terrified of being called into this room. It always meant I fucked up somehow. Never imagined you’d be here with me one day.”

“You lied to me,” she whispers, her voice shaking.

“Frankie—” I frown.

“Don’t ‘Frankie’ me, Luciano. You lied.” She lifts her head and stares at me, no warmth in her eyes at all, just disappointment and grief.

“Luciano, huh? I must really be in deep shit if you’re calling me that.”

“Stop,” she says, standing now. “Stop with the jokes. Stop with the games. Stop with the lies. Just… stop.”

“I never lied to you,” I say as evenly as I can.

“Lying by omission is still lying,” she deadpans, and it hurts more than I want to admit.

She takes two steps toward me. Close enough that I can see how much pain she’s in, but far enough that I can’t touch her.

“I heard rumors,” she says, voice low. “Back at school. That you and your siblings were part of some warped Italian mafia family. I thought it was a joke—just another prank. A myth you made up to look larger than life.” Her voice cracks. “But it wasn’t a rumor, was it? It wasn’t some bullshit story. It’s real. Isn’t it?”

I open my mouth and step toward her, only to have her step back away from me.

“What happened to those two boys that tried to assault Annamaria?” she asks, taking the wind out of my sails.

“They had a car accident.”

“Don’t lie to me, Lucky. Not now.”

I swallow dryly before giving her a curt nod. “Yeah, okay…Marcello…dealt with them, too.”

“So, it’s true…Your family really does belong to the Italian mafia?”

“It’s called the Outfit, actually. Italian mafia is more Cosa Nostra—

“Oh my God,” she interrupts, placing her hands over her face. “How could I have been so stupid?”

“Frankie—” I reach out, only for her to slap my hand away.

“No! Don’t try to make this okay with another lie. You said you loved me,” she croaks, tears falling freely now. “And like an idiot, I believed you. I even started making plans for the future with you at the very center.”

“Idolove you!” I shout, feeling like my heart is being ripped in half.

“How can you love me and hide such a big part of your life? How does that even work?”

“I wasn’t thinking about that—”

“No, you were only thinking with your dick,” she snaps.

“That’s not fair or even remotely true,” I grimace.

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