by Rye Hart
The cereal spoon fell from my hands as my eyes scanned the text.
I know things are rocky with you and Romeo right now, but he was attacked in his home last night. I thought you’d want to know.
Attacked? Was Romeo okay? My fingers flew across the screen as I responded, my feet carrying me toward the staircase. It didn’t matter how upset I was with him, he was the father of my child. He was still a man I cared for greatly. And I didn’t want him to be hurt.
I ran into my room and began throwing on clothes. I twisted my hair and clipped it up, then slipped into some flats and ran to Matteo’s room. He was awake and looking at his new book, and I rushed around to find some decent clothes to put on him. I was in no condition to drive, and Stefano wasn’t here to take me anywhere.
So Enrico was my only option.
“What’s wrong, Mommy?”
“We have to go somewhere, sweetheart. It’s an emergency. Can you be a big boy for me?” I asked.
“Okay,” he said. “Can I wear my hat?”
“Of course, you can. I’ll get it for you. Run downstairs. I’ll be there in a second.”
I slipped Matteo’s shoes on his feet before he dashed out the door. I rummaged around in his closet, cursing the fact that I couldn't find his damn hat. “Something wrong?”
“Aha!”
I held up the hat in triumph as I turned around and took stock of Enrico.
“I need a favor,” I said.
“Anything.”
“I need you to drive Matteo and me to Romeo’s.”
I watched his face fall, but I didn’t have time to debate with him.
“With everything that’s happened, do you think that’s wise?” he asked.
“It’s not your place to question who I want to see,” I said as I whipped around.
Enrico clenched his jaw as I held my son’s hat in my hand.
“I need you to drive us over there, or I’ll call us a cab,” I said.
“I’ll take you,” Enrico said. “It’s about time you stopped seeing him alone anyway.”
I let the comment slide as he pushed by me and out the door. We rushed down the stairs. I put Matteo’s hat on him, then the three of us piled in the car. If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve said Enrico was intentionally going slower than he needed to. I held my son close to me, cursing myself for leaving my phone behind.
I had no way to figure out how badly Romeo was hurt until we got to his place.
Cops were swarming when we arrived. Lights were flashing and there was an ambulance with opened doors. My heart stopped in my chest as I unbuckled Matteo, then I jumped out of the car. I ran us underneath the yellow tape and bolted for the house before anyone could stop us. Blood was pumping through my veins and tears were brewing at the corners of my eyes.
Was Romeo still alive?
I stormed into the house, clutching Matteo tightly to my side. I whipped my head around, trying to figure out what was happening. I saw the blood on the staircase. A tear escaped down my cheek.
Until I heard his voice.
“Julia?”
I turned around, catching sight of Romeo, sitting in a chair in the corner. He had a bandage around his head and ice pressed against his temple but he was alive.
Relief flooded my veins as I rushed over to him.
“What the hell happened?” I asked as my hand rose to the ice pack.
But Romeo’s eyes were trained behind me, and it dawned on me what I had done.
I slowly panned my gaze behind me and saw Matteo standing there. He was trying to situate his hat back onto his head after taking it off. My eyes whipped back around and landed on Romeo, and I could see the awe behind his stare.
“Matteo? You okay honey?” I asked.
“Who’s that, Mommy?”
I felt my son slip his hand into mine as Romeo’s eyes stayed trained on him.
“This is my friend, Romeo,” I said as I shot him a look.
He needed to keep his mouth shut and follow along.
“Hi. I’m Matteo. But my friends call me ‘Matt.’”
“It’s very nice to meet you,” Romeo said as his eyes gravitated to mine.
“Are you okay?” my son asked.
“I am. Just a little bump on the head. Nothing terrible.”
“There’s blood on the floor.”
I pulled Matteo close to me as my eyes fluttered down to the top of his head.
“Have you ever scraped your knee before?” Romeo asked.
“Yeah. On the concrete.”
“Even though it’s only a scrape, doesn’t it leave some blood behind?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“That’s all that happened. Just a scrape.”
“What happened?” I asked.
Romeo’s eyes panned up to me before he leaned back in his chair.
“A burglary,” he said.
“What was taken?”
But he didn’t respond, and I shook my head.
“No, you know what, never mind. It’s none of my business,” I huffed, my adrenaline spike finally starting to ebb.
“Mommy? Why are you mad?” Matteo asked.
“I’m not mad, sweetie,” I said. “Just worried.”
“You sound mad.”
“I’m not mad,” I said.
“Your eye is dancing. It does that when you’re mad.”
Romeo chuckled, and I closed my eyes and groaned.
“A trait I’m familiar with,” he said.
“Your eyes dances, too?” Matteo asked.
“No. But I’ve known your mother long enough to know what you’re talking about,” Romeo said.
“It looks like this when she’s really angry.”
Matteo started twitching his eyes at a rapid speed, and I giggled. A smile crossed Romeo’s face. I watched as that same smile bloomed on my son’s cheeks. Holy hell, the two of them were carbon copies of one another. Cut from the same cloth. They even smiled the same, and I paused to take it all in.
It was the first time we were standing together as a family, and I couldn’t help but feel it was special.
Maybe a little too much.
“Mr. Martine?”
A man with a notepad in his hand walked up beside us, ruining the familial moment.
“Yes?” Romeo asked.
“I’m Detective Bradshaw. I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions now that the paramedics have stabilized you.”
“Stabilized you?” I asked.
“It was nothing,” Romeo said.
“It doesn’t sound like nothing,” I said.
“It’s dancing again,” Matteo said.
I hushed my son as Romeo bit back a smile.
“If you’ll excuse us, we’ll get out of your way,” I said, taking Matteo’s hand again.
“Julia?”
“Yes?”
I turned around in the middle of escorting my son out the front door.
“Talk soon?” Romeo asked.
“When you’re feeling better,” I said.
“Promise?”
I watched Enrico come through the door, his eyes landing heavily on Romeo.
“Come on. We need to head back,” Enrico said.
I looked back at Romeo as the detective began peppering him with questions. I nodded in his direction. I watched his eyes light up a bit. Such a small gesture bringing such happiness to those blue eyes. That was the Romeo I remembered. I knew he was in there somewhere. I had to bring him to the light somehow. I escorted Matteo out the door and to the car, feeling Enrico’s presence looming heavily over us.
“Why did you fetch me?” I asked. “Is something up?”
“Get in the car,” Enrico said.
He opened the door for me, but I refused to get in.
“What happened?” I asked.
“Simply doing my job, Miss Bianchi. Now please get in.”
I was flabbergasted at how he was talking to me, but I listened. I figured he was upset at me fo
r snapping at him earlier, and I did owe him an apology. The two of us had been friends for a very long time, and I had forced him back into a position of subservience. Enrico deserved better than that, especially with the positive influence he brought into my son’s life.
“I’m sorry,” I said as I buckled my seat belt. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you the way I did back at the house.”
Enrico was silent as he backed the car down the driveway.
“I was upset and worried for Romeo. I thought maybe someone had—”
I couldn’t even say it.
“I accept your apology, Julia. Please understand that all I want is the best for both you and Matteo. And I don’t think he’s it.”
“Who’s it?” Matteo asked.
“You’re it when we get home,” I said with a grin.
Then I shot a look at Enrico before he started driving down the road.
I knew he had feelings for me, and something told me his feelings were what drove his decision to command me out of there. And I didn’t like that. His job was to protect my son and me, not to dictate when we were coming or going.
Enrico and I were going to have to have a serious talk, and soon.
CHAPTER 15
ROMEO
“You said you heard the intruders just before three in the morning?” the detective asked.
“Yes. I looked over at the clock to make sure it wasn’t my brother or someone.”
“Your brother work the night shift?”
“He does. At the plant in town. He never walks in the door until five, maybe six. Depending on if he gets breakfast out,” I said.
“What happened after that?”
“I went to go check on my mother, then I locked her in her room so no one could get to her. I came down the stairs, the rustling stopped, then I was hit in the back of the head.”
“You said you were hit twice. When was the second blow?” he asked.
“After I was done beating the shit out of the first guy.”
“So there’s a chance that blood on the staircase isn’t only yours.”
“A great chance,” I said flatly.
“Then we’ll make sure to take samples with us. Do you have any idea how they got into your home, Mr. Martine?”
“I don’t know, but they would’ve had to disable the alarm system first.”
“We’ll check the electrical boxes and see if anything’s been cut or tampered with.”
“I appreciate it.”
“Is there anyone you can think of that would want to do this to you? Any enemies of yours? Or maybe your father’s?”
I panned my gaze up to the detective and automatically went on my guard.
“None,” I said.
“No angry customers?”
“Nope.”
“No third-party deliverers?”
“Is that phrase supposed to mean something?” I asked.
“Just trying to flesh out a suspect list, Mr. Martine. It’s standard procedure.”
“Is this standard procedure about to wrap up?” I asked.
I ground my teeth as the detective finished his notes.
“That’ll be all for now. We’ll call you if we need clarification on anything.”
“I’m sure you will,” I said coolly.
The detective walked away, and I slumped back into my seat. Fuck. They were digging around for something. But I knew this was a burglary. Those men had said, “we got what we came for.” They took something of mine, and I wanted to know what it was. I’d recounted my story three times to three separate police officers, and I was ready for them to get out of my fucking house so I could start my own damn investigation.
But a cop buddy of mine walked up before I could shoo them all out.
“Romeo.”
“Lambert.”
“Look, before we head out of here, I wanted to tell you something.”
“Can it wait?” I asked.
“I don’t think you want it to,” he said.
“Then spit it out. I’m in a bit of pain here.”
“Then I’ll make this quick. That detective is poking around, asking questions about your possible involvement with those dead gun runners at the docks.”
“What?” I asked.
“There’s no proof. Nothing at all. Just his hunch. But it’s an avenue he’s been inquiring about, and we’re required to look into it. Wanted you to know since I know what you’re trying to do with your family and all.”
“Thanks, Lambert. I appreciate it.”
“No problem. Give your mother my love. Tell her my wife’s got leftover tea she made last night.”
“Oh, she could use some of that right now. Someone will be by to get it later.”
“She’ll have it ready for you,” he said.
My mind was spinning. I left no evidence behind. No shell casings. No bullets to trace back to us. No footprints. Nothing. I didn’t take the guns, there were no cameras around, and I got rid of the burner phone that tipped off the damn police in the first place. Nothing about that encounter tracked back to me in any way.
So how the hell did a detective have a “hunch” about it? Unless someone was talking out of turn.
I got up from the chair and started looking around. The ambulance was driving away, and the cops were finally leaving. I started searching for anything that was missing. A vase. A picture. A fucking fork. I checked behind all the pictures and opened all of the family safes to see if anything had been accessed and stolen. That was what those men said. That they got what they came for.
But nothing seemed to be out of place.
Fuck. What if I was being set up?
I went back through the house and started searching for things that shouldn't be there. Things that were maybe planted by those two goons. They obviously didn’t need me. Otherwise, I would’ve woken up somewhere else. And who the fuck were they? The only person that came to mind freely was Stefano Bianchi, but it didn’t make any sense. He’d been talking a truce, though I wouldn’t believe it until I saw it.
It wasn’t beyond him. Stefano was a brute to his core. He used manipulation and murder to get what he wanted. And if he was behind this, then he had a long-term end goal in mind. But what was it? Why now?
Nothing in my house backed up any of those theories. The burglars didn’t take anything, and it didn’t look as if they’d planted anything either.
But my vision was obscured by the pounding in my head, so I couldn't fully rely on my own judgment anyway.
I made my way back upstairs and reached for my cell phone. I sent a message to the family doctor and told him I needed him to come look me the fuck over. My nausea was gone, and the paramedics told me I didn’t have a concussion, but I wanted to be sure. There was no one I could trust until I figured out what the fuck was going on, and my best bet was to stick with people who were closest to me until I could fuse all the pieces together.
I sat on the edge of my bed and sighed. I closed my eyes and conjured the face of my son. Matteo. He had been here. In my home. Standing there smiling up at me. Teasing his mother alongside me like I always saw us doing. Riling Julia up before expressing our love for her like fathers and sons did.
It killed me that he’d seen the blood on the floor.
I put my head in my hands and drew in a deep breath. I tossed the ice pack to the ground, watching as it splattered water along the carpeted floor. He had been here. We all had been there. Standing there, like a family. Talking, like a family. Smiling, like a family.
This couldn’t go on any longer.
I knew where my loyalty lied.
It was to Julia. And Matteo. The family I had created out of love. That was who I needed to side with. That was who I needed to keep safe. No matter what it took of me. No matter what it cost me. They were the priority.
The love of my life and my own flesh and blood.
CHAPTER 16
JULIA
Matteo was napping, and my head was still reeling fro
m the fiasco the other day. So many thoughts were running through my mind. How relieved I was to see that Romeo had been alive. How nice it had been to stand there as a family. How easy it seemed to be for Romeo to get on Matteo’s good side. It was like the two of them had an innate bond already. I kept replaying the scene in my mind before the detective interrupted us. How Romeo made his son smile and how, for a moment, it felt as if things had always been that way.
I looked back at my sleeping son and sighed.
Was I doing the right thing, keeping him from his father? He lit up in Romeo’s presence. He was guarded, sure. Matteo always had been. But he came out of his shell around Romeo faster than I’d ever seen him do with anyone. Was that a natural thing, a father and son bond? Or did he simply feel that comfortable around Romeo?
I didn’t know if I was doing the right thing any longer.
I walked out of my son’s room and shut the door. Enrico was standing guard, and Stefano was downstairs. I made my way into his office and poked my head in, watching him as he scribbled some things down on a sheet of paper. He looked just like my father. The same head of salt-and-pepper hair, the same dark eyes. Both left-handed. Both bull-headed. Both strong and barrel-chested.
I stood there, watching him work until he lifted his head to see me.
“Julia. Come on in.”
“You look like him, you know.”
“I get that a lot. Especially in my older age. Come. Sit,” he said.
“I was wondering if you would be around for a couple of hours,” I said.
“I don’t have anything planned. Why?” he asked.
“I need to get out and breathe. My mind—it won’t shut off.”
“Is Matteo upstairs? I can stay with him if you want me to.”
“Are you sure it isn’t too much?” I asked.
I watched my uncle get up and walk over to me before he rested his hands on my shoulders.
“Julia, I can’t imagine what you’re going through. The emotions that hit you every time you see Romeo. Even I know how much that boy looks like his father. You’ve been through a rollercoaster of a ride the past week or so. Go out and clear your head. Enrico and I will watch Matteo until you get back.”
I leaned into him, and he wrapped his strong, broad arms around me.
So much like my father in so many ways.
