Dom!" Looking at the clock in front
of her and registering that it was already 7:30, she slipped her
reading glasses off and rubbed the bridge of her nose lightly
before getting to her feet to head for the top of the
stairs.
Pulling the mail off the table in the
foyer where it had yet to be retrieved, Dominic flipped through the
envelopes as he climbed the staircase. "You spent the day in your
office again, didn't you?" Dominic adored his mother. And it had
festered over the years that Joey had been the favorite son. She
didn't have to say it, and never would, his mother wasn't that type
of woman; but he could see it. It was one of Dominic's many secrets
that he had not been as sad as he'd pretended to be when Joey had
finally died. Tucking that thought aside when he reached the top of
the stairs, he met his mother’s gaze, leaned in, and kissed her
cheek affectionately.
Carissa's face lit up, as it always
did, at the sight of her son. Joey used to light her face up the
same way, before he died. She returned the kiss, waving one hand
dismissively. "I meant to spend some time gardening this afternoon,
but time flies when you're terribly old." Amusement glimmered in
gray eyes that were still as sharp as ever they had been. Examining
her son's face, she lifted heavily wrinkled hands to cup his face
between them. "You look tired, sweetie. You work too
hard."
"Apparently, not hard enough if I can't
keep up with you."
"Pfft." Carissa waved the thought aside
with a dismissive noise. "You can't honestly expect me to believe
that you wouldn't still be working if it wasn't
Take-Mother-To-Dinner night," she chided gently. "You should spend
more time with Maria,” she said, referring to Dominic’s wife. "We
never know how much time we'll have with the people we love. Just
look at your brother—" even now, her voice got a hair unsteady when
she spoke of him. "Well, we didn't have nearly enough time with
him."
A flicker of a shadow tainted the back
of Dominic’s eyes. "Considering the path Joey took, we're lucky we
got as much time with him as we did."
Carissa's brows shot up in disgruntled
surprise, not only at those words, but at the look in her son’s
eyes. She released his face and took a step back, frowning at him.
"What is that supposed to mean, Dominic?"
"Nothing." Dominic brushed past her,
walking towards her office. "I'm sorry. It doesn't matter." His jaw
tensed. His brother didn't deserve his mothers’ pain, or her love.
"Where do you want to go tonight?"
Carissa frowned a little more deeply.
There was a small voice inside her head telling her—almost begging
her—just to drop the subject, but she silenced it. "No, son. You
said it. Obviously, you meant something by it. So, tell me why on
earth you would be taking pot shots at your dead brother?" She
almost flinched when she had to speak the word dead in connection
with Joey. Time didn't heal all wounds—some were simply too
deep.
Dominic dropped the mail on her desk,
giving her his back and silence. His son was a disappointment.
Agata wasn't strong enough to know the truth. His brother, a dead
enemy. And his mother, this beautiful tower of strength, was
misguided in her faith. He turned around, walking back out of her
office and towards her. "Joey was on the wrong side. Joey spent his
life a slave to the whims of a stupid man. Do you know how much of
a Terenzio I am? The moves I've made, the shadows I've walked
through? And for decades, Mother."
The blood drained slowly from Carissa's
face. Joey? On the wrong side? The idea was ludicrous. Her voice
was little more than a whisper. "What are you saying, Dominic? What
have you done?"
"What have I done?" Dominic could feel
himself snapping. He'd held himself in check for so long; tolerated
all the love his mother had given Joey, while he had been left
desperately wanting for the same depth of affection; tolerated the
knowledge that Joey and Marcello were running the family into the
ground. Dominic reached out,
of her and registering that it was already 7:30, she slipped her
reading glasses off and rubbed the bridge of her nose lightly
before getting to her feet to head for the top of the
stairs.
Pulling the mail off the table in the
foyer where it had yet to be retrieved, Dominic flipped through the
envelopes as he climbed the staircase. "You spent the day in your
office again, didn't you?" Dominic adored his mother. And it had
festered over the years that Joey had been the favorite son. She
didn't have to say it, and never would, his mother wasn't that type
of woman; but he could see it. It was one of Dominic's many secrets
that he had not been as sad as he'd pretended to be when Joey had
finally died. Tucking that thought aside when he reached the top of
the stairs, he met his mother’s gaze, leaned in, and kissed her
cheek affectionately.
Carissa's face lit up, as it always
did, at the sight of her son. Joey used to light her face up the
same way, before he died. She returned the kiss, waving one hand
dismissively. "I meant to spend some time gardening this afternoon,
but time flies when you're terribly old." Amusement glimmered in
gray eyes that were still as sharp as ever they had been. Examining
her son's face, she lifted heavily wrinkled hands to cup his face
between them. "You look tired, sweetie. You work too
hard."
"Apparently, not hard enough if I can't
keep up with you."
"Pfft." Carissa waved the thought aside
with a dismissive noise. "You can't honestly expect me to believe
that you wouldn't still be working if it wasn't
Take-Mother-To-Dinner night," she chided gently. "You should spend
more time with Maria,” she said, referring to Dominic’s wife. "We
never know how much time we'll have with the people we love. Just
look at your brother—" even now, her voice got a hair unsteady when
she spoke of him. "Well, we didn't have nearly enough time with
him."
A flicker of a shadow tainted the back
of Dominic’s eyes. "Considering the path Joey took, we're lucky we
got as much time with him as we did."
Carissa's brows shot up in disgruntled
surprise, not only at those words, but at the look in her son’s
eyes. She released his face and took a step back, frowning at him.
"What is that supposed to mean, Dominic?"
"Nothing." Dominic brushed past her,
walking towards her office. "I'm sorry. It doesn't matter." His jaw
tensed. His brother didn't deserve his mothers’ pain, or her love.
"Where do you want to go tonight?"
Carissa frowned a little more deeply.
There was a small voice inside her head telling her—almost begging
her—just to drop the subject, but she silenced it. "No, son. You
said it. Obviously, you meant something by it. So, tell me why on
earth you would be taking pot shots at your dead brother?" She
almost flinched when she had to speak the word dead in connection
with Joey. Time didn't heal all wounds—some were simply too
deep.
Dominic dropped the mail on her desk,
giving her his back and silence. His son was a disappointment.
Agata wasn't strong enough to know the truth. His brother, a dead
enemy. And his mother, this beautiful tower of strength, was
misguided in her faith. He turned around, walking back out of her
office and towards her. "Joey was on the wrong side. Joey spent his
life a slave to the whims of a stupid man. Do you know how much of
a Terenzio I am? The moves I've made, the shadows I've walked
through? And for decades, Mother."
The blood drained slowly from Carissa's
face. Joey? On the wrong side? The idea was ludicrous. Her voice
was little more than a whisper. "What are you saying, Dominic? What
have you done?"
"What have I done?" Dominic could feel
himself snapping. He'd held himself in check for so long; tolerated
all the love his mother had given Joey, while he had been left
desperately wanting for the same depth of affection; tolerated the
knowledge that Joey and Marcello were running the family into the
ground. Dominic reached out,
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