Nario. I’d never felt that kind of comfort before. Like it all could, finally, be okay.
I think I’m just starting to realize that Hazel isn’t just more than a prisoner; she’s much more. That fantasy I had about her in the kitchen? It doesn’t scare me as much as it should anymore.
“Save the—”
“Therapy?” Nario rolls his eyes. “Are you forgetting who you’re talking to?”
“Are you?” I growl, slamming another plate onto the bar. “The last time I checked, I was the fucking don of the Family and you were my fucking second. A second is supposed to shut his fucking mouth and listen, Sartori, not pry into his boss’ business.”
My words hang in the air. I am immediately sorry. Nario just stands there, watching me closely, reading me. The anger isn’t directed at him. It’s directed at Hazel. No, that’s not right. It’s aimed at this unstoppable force inside of me, the one that’s going to call out for Hazel until I finally cave in, until I finally admit that I—
That I love her.
But I can’t let myself go there. It doesn’t make any sense. Or does it?
She’s so smart, so compassionate, so talented. She makes me feel things I never dreamed I could. Her green eyes see more than any woman I’ve ever met. She sees into me. We’re perfect for each other. That’s the truth I’m trying, and failing, to run from.
“Nario, I’m—”
He claps me on the shoulder with a grin. “I know, Carlo. It’s okay.”
“That wasn’t right of me.”
“Don’t,” he says. “We both know what just happened.”
“A fucking Pandora’s box.”
“Letting a woman in?” he asks, walking around to the bar to spot me.
I nod as I lift the weight. For a few minutes, there is nothing but the sound of my breathing and Nario urging me to lift just one more time. My mind drifts to when we were kids and would put on boxing gloves and bite down on mouthpieces and beat the holy hell out of each other. Afterward, we’d ride our bikes down to the docks and smoke cigarettes and get in some trouble, nothing serious, but enough to let us know we were alive.
That was before Angel was born. Nario was the only brother I had back then.
“It is a Pandora’s box.” Nario nods as I finish the set. “But what’s the alternative, Carlo? Die miserable and alone?”
“The harem is enough for some men.”
Nario shrugs. “Maybe it is. Maybe it isn’t. But we’re not talking about that.”
“I made a mistake,” I sigh, sitting up. I tell him about last night.
“Why do you think it was a mistake?” he asks.
“Because …”
I trail off, shaking my head. I wonder if it’s possible to explain the confused feelings I have for Hazel. Or maybe that’s just an excuse. Maybe they’re not as confused as the keep-your-distance part of me wants them to be. Maybe the simple fact is that I’ve finally found somebody I can envision being with, really being with, for longer than an evening.
“If you told her,” Nario says, reading my face as we silently go about setting up the squat rack, “then you must’ve had a reason. Think about it, Carlo. She was nobody. She was just a teacher at the rec. You took her in, saved her.”
“Imprisoned her,” I mutter.
“Even that!” He’s laughing now. “What you just said: imprisoned her. A few weeks ago, you never would’ve shown even a fucking shred of guilt about that. I hate to break it to you, Carlo De Maggio, but I think you might be falling for this girl.”
“I wish Ubert was my second,” I grunt. “He wouldn’t bother me with this emotional shit.”
“Ubert is married, too.”
“Yeah, yeah, but he’s not a wannabe poet like you. Okay, the Albino, then.”
“What—and talk about the sound of a man’s dying screams all day long? Or satanic rituals? Or whatever the fuck it is that the Albino does in his free time?”
“Durante would know when to shut the fuck up.”
Nario scratches at his scar. “That could work. Unmarried, quiet, knows how to take orders. But do you really want your second to be stronger than you, physically, I mean? Don’t get me wrong. My mental strength makes you look like a scared little girl. But, unfortunately, you’re addicted to working out and so you’ve—just for now—passed me by. But Durante is a tank. Imagine the looks you’d get, your second towering behind you like a fucking bear. The men would talk.”
“You should’ve been a politician,” I laugh. “You’ve