“Not going to happen.”
Marcus reminds me of our father. Cunning. Ruthless. Stubborn. Pietro Giannotti confirmed all three for me on the day of my mother’s funeral when he had the audacity to invite the woman he’d been having an affair with, one of my mother’s at-home nurses.
I cried for my mother that night. Wept until I felt sick and complete lonely despair. If my mother were alive, she would have laid on my bed, kissed my forehead, and stayed with me until her comfort was enough for me to peacefully fall asleep. Hard to do when the person you need the most disappeared into the stars above.
My father didn’t check on me that night.
I should have kept the door locked the next morning. It would have prevented the beating I received from him for acting ‘weak.’ Me. A nine-year-old boy who just lost his mother acting weak. To him, I had been since the day I was born, only he didn’t show it until I was nine. I took the beatings, every single one of them. I did not say a word or shed a tear.
I had not only lost my mother that day…I lost my father too.
Pietro Giannotti disregarding my existence continued for the next nine years. It was then I had enough money to move to Seattle, one of the best leading cities for architecture, and started my life. I haven’t looked back since because the move was the best thing I’d ever done for myself. It eventuated in my career, my children, and Valencia.
I regret stooping to my father’s level that fateful Thanksgiving weekend when I traveled back to New Jersey to see him. It was only him, Marcus, and me that night. His wife was working the late shift at the hospital. I remember when my father took his life…that loud bang of the gunshot…I will never forget that sound. Ever.
Marcus acting the way he is right now reminds me exactly of our father. He loved Marcus. Hated me. I didn’t attend our father’s funeral. Marcus says it was my greatest mistake, but I don’t regret a thing. My father was the first person to break my heart. No father in his right mind should ever do that. No father should mentally or physically abuse his child like he did me.
“Alright, I’ll go.”
“Good.” Marcus’ footsteps retreating have me conjuring a plan.
I back away from the door, suck in a breath, and kick to the side of it, exactly where the lock is mounted near the keyhole. The subtle art of being an architect and knowing ‘weak’ spots.
I prevail, even when Marcus returns and shouts for me to stop. Two can play that game. The door bursts open and I stride inside like I own the place. My half-brother and Bryce stand before me, their mouths slack.
Hello, motherfuckers.
“Now…” Smugly, I brush off my blazer and cock my head to the Englishman. His bruised nose seems to be healing. “Bryce, are you and I going to have a nice talk, or am I going to have to do to your head what I did to the door?”
“Pleasure to see ya as always, Giannotti.”
“I wish I could say the same, McCarson.”
“Too bad ya can’t fire me…”
“Wish I could, but you’re so fucking deep in this mess I want to witness you crawl out!”
“Hey, do not speak to him like that!” Marcus grits, stepping forward to block my way to Bryce. “Get out of here, Giulio!”
“You would not say that if you were in my position.”
“I wouldn’t get myself in your position to begin with.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I just am.” Marcus scoffs and leans against the wooden stair balustrade. His beady eyes flicker to the coat closet, then back to me. “Firstly, you know where you went wrong…now, the consequence is having to deal with me and whoever I call a friend—like Bryce. Secondly, I don’t do commitment…or rather, I never get to that commitment stage. I’ve tried.”
“As a man whose wife was involuntary kissed by this friend of yours, I’m kindly asking you to move out of my way before I do something you will regret.”
“Well, well, well. The tiger comes to play when it’s about this girl, aye?”
“And YOU have another thing coming!” I point a finger at Bryce, defusing his smirk with a single look. “No smartass remarks from you.”
“Guess I’ve gotta take a number and wait in line.” Bryce shrugs and turns towards the ominous looking hallway. “I’ll be in the living room when you’re ready to ring me neck. Don’t worry, I won’t run. I’ve got nothing waiting for me but you.”
You run and I’ll catch you.
I glance around, analyzing the dark timber wood floors and dark walls. I feel crowded in here. There is a distinct smell of whiskey mixed with something I can’t grasp.
“I kindly suggest you get the hell out, Giulio.”
A chill runs down my spine. I don’t know why. There’s something about this house. I get this agitated feeling inside as I follow Marcus’ gaze to that coat closet again. He’s quick to rush forward and take a hold of the handle before me.
My brows quiver. “What’s in there?”
“Nothing.”
“Doesn’t seem like nothing by the death grip you have on it.”
“I apologized to Valencia, okay? I got out of line with her, but we’re good again. I don’t need to apologize to you. Quite frankly, I don’t need you.”
“Open the door, Marcus.”
“Fucking leave my house before I destroy you!”
“You mean the house I bought you? Father would be ashamed of you.”
“No!” My half-brother sneers. “He would continue to place me on a pedestal, like he always did. You would be the one to suffer, like you always do. Why? Because you’re w…e…a…k.”
Oh, that’s it.
I fight his grip and swing the door open. “Holy shit!”
I cannot believe this is happening again. One glance is enough to see the stashes of white power and possibly hundreds of stacked up pill containers.
