Stefan
My fucking brother wouldn’t stop dialing my phone. I guessed Veronica had called him as soon as I left, and I knew he wouldn’t stop calling. Finally, after the eighth time, I answered.
“What is it, Stephen.”
“Where are you, Stefan?”
“I’m guessing you know that.”
“On your way to Moriarty’s offices?”
“He’s gone too far.”
“Veronica said you have a gun.”
“Do you propose I go without one?”
“I propose you don’t go at all. Not until you’ve calmed down. He’s not some two-bit thug we’re talking about. He’s a legitimate businessman-”
“There’s nothing legitimate about him.”
“Unless you want to give him ammunition, you can’t go into Florence with a fucking gun.”
He was right. I knew it. But fuck. “He sent a car after us. Us, Stephen. Veronica was with me.”
“I realize there has to be a meeting. Just not like this, not when you’re out of control.”
“Aren’t I always out of control? That’s what you were telling me a few days ago with your fists, wasn’t it?”
He sighed. “I need to be there too. This concerns me as much as it does you.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“The house may belong to you, but it’s my past too.”
“No.”
“Are you still protecting me, brother?”
“Oh, that’s right, you didn’t want my protection.”
“Goddamn it, Stefan. Just fucking wait. I’m on my way. I lost you once. I’m not willing to lose you again.”
I paused, as if hearing his words in slow motion. It took me a full minute to respond. “I’ll wait. I’ll get there in forty-five minutes.”
“I’ll wait for you, then. I’m closer. I’ll be there in twenty.”
Stephen was right, I knew it. Moriarty may be an asshole, but he was a powerful man. Legitimate enough that I needed to do this right. If I walked into his office brandishing a gun, he’d have me tossed into jail. Considering my past, I’d just be making everything easier for him.
Traffic getting into Florence delayed both of us, but once we arrived, I found Stephen at the cafe at the corner of Moriarty’s building, which was an old, three-story property, ancient on the outside, meticulously modern on the inside. I knew because I’d seen pictures in a magazine once.
I told Eric to wait outside the building and went into the coffee shop where, before I could protest, my brother had a waitress bringing me over an espresso.
“Sit.”
Although reluctant, I did.
“Drink and breathe.”
“If it was just me, that’d be one thing, Stephen. But Veronica was there.”
“I know. I get it. And agree we need to handle this.”
“He wants the property. He’s made perfectly clear he’ll buy us out-after subtracting the amount our father owed him.”
“Generous of him.”
“I’d rather see it burn to the ground than give it to him.”
“Well, it almost did, didn’t it?”
I shook my head, feeling more at ease now that Stephen was here too. I didn’t realize how much I needed him. And he was right. I was too angry. Moriarty wanted that. He knew having that car chase would scare the fuck out of Veronica, and he knew I’d react.
“Better?”
Stephen was reading me. He always did have a knack for that.
“Yeah.” I stood, pushed the chair out. “Let’s go do this thing.”
He nodded and rose to his feet, tossed a few bills on the table, and we walked out. Eric waited just outside the building. Once inside, we bypassed the young blonde receptionist and headed toward the large marble staircase.
“Sir, you can’t go-”
I ignored her. We both did. I knew she’d call up to Moriarty anyway.
On the third floor, we were greeted by two men in suits standing outside the large double doors that led to Moriarty’s office.
Stephen put his hand on my arm as we approached. Moriarty’s private secretary cleared her throat.
“Don’t let him get to you. He’s going to do whatever he can to get under your skin. Don’t let him, no matter what you hear, understand?”
I thought what he said sounded strange, and I would have questioned it, but the secretary spoke then.
“Mr. Moriarty is expecting you. You can go in.”
“How nice.”
The men opened the doors, and Stephen and I headed into his office. Inside, two men sat in large armchairs in one corner and two more flanked his large, mahogany desk. Behind it, Moriarty leaned back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other, a stupid grin on his fat face and his fingers steepled.
“What a great pleasure. A visit from not one but two Armando brothers. With matching black eyes. How interesting.”
“Six men. Is that special for us, or you need that much security with all your visitors?” I asked.
“You always did think yourself special, Stefan,” he said, then turned to his men. “Search them.”
Two men patted us down. Moriarty sat forward and rested his elbows on the obnoxiously oversized desk. One of the men announced we were unarmed.
Moriarty nodded and cocked his head to the side. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Your boys tried to run me and my wife off the road.”
He feigned shock.
“Let’s cut the crap, Moriarty.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re not getting the house.”
“Someone tried to run you off the road?”
My jaw tightened, and my hands fisted. When I took a step forward, Stephen’s hand closed over my shoulder.
“Stefan,” he said. “Don’t let him get to you.”
“Yes, Stefan. Don’t let me get to you.”
“You don’t involve my wife in this, do you understand? She has nothing to do with this.”
“Sadly, she does. She did the moment she said the words “I do.” Ah, young love. I remember those days. Very well, in fact.”
“Cut the crap.”
“You know, once upon a time, your mother, father, and I were very close.”
“Ancient history.” I did know that. My father had gone to school with Moriarty when his parents had moved to Italy. He’d met my mother two years after that, and the three of them were once friends. For a short time at least.
“Still.” He shrugged a shoulder.
“Wait a minute.” I chuckled and looked around the room. I had a feeling the two leather armchairs the men sat on had been moved from the front of his desk so he would keep us standing. “Mind if I sit?” I asked, picking up a smaller, hardback wooden chair and carrying it toward his desk before he could reply. Stephen remained standing. “So, is that what all this is about?” I asked. “Is it what it’s always been about?”
His eyes narrowed just a little. I would have missed it if I wasn’t paying attention. Stephen wasn’t the only one who could read people.
“My mother?” I continued.
“Stefan,” Stephen’s low voice warned from beside me.
Moriarty picked up a pen, and I saw how his knuckles whitened around it. I was right.
“She chose him over you, didn’t she?” I asked.
“Your father met her first. It was never a competition.”
“No? You don’t think I remember your name being tossed around the house when I was growing up?” What I said was true. It was suddenly all coming together. “Let me ask you a question. Did you love her, or did you just want what my father had?”
“That’s enough. Are you here to tell me you have the money you owe me? Because you know if you don’t, there’s one other way.”
“I’m here to tell you it’s not my debt to pay.”
“But, it is. In my book, at least. And you specifically, Stefan, since you’re responsible for your father’s death-self-defense or not. Therefore, you inherited that debt.”
“That is some interesting logic.”
“Once you pay me, I’m off your back. If it wasn’t for the astronomical amount, I’d forgive it. Again.”
Again? “Bullshit. You forgive nothing.”
“You see-”
He rose to his feet and turned so he looked out onto the street as he started to speak. “Your mother tried that too once.”
My hands clenched at my sides at the mere mention of her.
Stephen cleared his throat. “Let’s go, Stefan.” He turned to Moriarty, who now faced us. “We’ll figure out a way to get you the money, but it won’t be the house.”
“It’s not our debt to pay,” I repeated to Stephen.
Moriarty watched me, ignoring my brother altogether. The smirk on his face suddenly sickened me.
“You mother’s been here once before too. Well, multiple times. Renata loved Florence, after all.”
“Don’t say her name,” I said.
Stephen’s hand closed over my shoulder.
“That’s enough,” he told Moriarty. “Stefan. We need to leave. Now.”
I glanced at Stephen, saw how some of the color had drained from his face.
“See, your father and I had a falling-out a very long time ago. Maybe around the time you two were born. He couldn’t wait to put babies in your mother. Thinking it would keep her bound to him.”
I stood, my breathing tight now. The men who were sitting in the armchairs also rose to their feet. The two men before Moriarty’s desk stepped closer together, letting Stephen and me know it would be stupid to launch any sort of physical attack.
“But your father, well, I suppose Renata gave him reason to question. Even your paternity, believe it or not. Right up to the very end. The man didn’t even believe in the truth of science.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I asked.
“Stefan. We’re leaving. Now.”
This time, Stephen’s command carried a very real sense of urgency.
“Renata, may her soul rest in peace-”
Stephen cut him off. “Leave the dead be,” he said through gritted teeth.
I looked at Stephen, but he didn’t seem as upset as me. And the look in his eyes the moment they met mine was one of resignation.
“Stephen. Always reasonable,” Moriarty started again. “What’s Zachariah like? Oh, you don’t know. He’s missing in action or was he AWOL? I can’t remember.”
“You’re not getting her house,” Stephen said. “Let’s go, Stefan. We need to leave.”
Moriarty touched something on his desk, and the doors opened. The two men outside came in. “Get him out,” Moriarty said, gesturing to Stephen.
“Stefan. Come with me. We need to go. Now.”
But I couldn’t. All I could do was stare at Moriarty’s ugly, fat face. The victory in his flat, dead eyes. No. I couldn’t leave. I had to hear.
Stephen fought them, and a third man joined in to drag him out the door. Moriarty turned to me.
“Your brother already knows the story. It’d probably bore him anyway.”
“Speak your fucking mind, and do it fast.”
“As I was saying, your mother, well, she was a whore. She wanted every man who wanted her-”
I didn’t know if he had more to say. If he was midword. I stopped hearing the moment he called my mother a whore. I lunged, but they expected the move. His men grabbed me by the arms and held me so that I faced that bastard.
Moriarty looked at me. “See, your mother once sat in that very chair,” he said, pointing behind me.
“What the hell are you talking about?” I asked.
“The first time she came to me, she wanted me to forgive your father’s debt. She knew she’d chosen the wrong man. Knew he was weak.”
“My mother-”
“Offered to do anything.” He drew out the last word.
I grunted with the effort to free myself, but the men held me tight.
“Anything,” he repeated, “See, this is deja vu, really. But I don’t want you to kneel under my desk and suck my dick, Stefan. I prefer women.”
Fingers bit into my arms as I battled his guards to get to him. I wanted to wrap my hands around his throat and squeeze until the life had gone out of him.
“I prefer your mother’s tight little ass bent over my desk. And I did fuck her in the ass. She needed to be taught a lesson-”
“You’re a fucking liar! A goddamned fucking liar!” They held me tight. I heard the click of a gun being cocked and felt the cold steel of it behind my ear.
“I don’t want a mess in my office, boys,” Moriarty said, calm as could be.
He returned his full attention to me.
“See, I did keep my word. I did forgive his debt. That time. But your father didn’t learn. When she came to me again, well, there’s just so much a man can do for used-up old pussy, isn’t there?”