Page 25 of The Godfather’s Christmas Twins
I think about how Max has offered me a glass of wine and a chat each evening, which I’ve declined every time. It seems too dangerous. He’s the man I remember from six years ago. The man I’ve always loved. The man I can’t have.
But maybe it’s time to meet with him just to find out where the investigation stands. How long will I have endure the torture of falling all over again for him?
“I finished.” Dario holds up his workbook. I take a look. There are a few errors, but I praise his effort. I renew my focus on the task at hand, educating the kids and doing my own work. The day proceeds as usual, or as usual for this phase of our lives.
When Max gets home, Maria, as usual, has dinner ready. The kids run out to greet him, and he’s quick with a smile as they jump around him sharing their day and asking about his.
Later, when the kids are in bed, I wait for Max to invite me for wine again, but tonight he doesn’t. I guess he got the message. Now what?
Before I can talk myself out of it, I'm heading down the hall, through the living area, and to the other wing of the house where Max’s office and bedroom are. The house is dark except for a sliver of light beneath his office door.
I give a knock.
“Come in.”
As I step in, Max’s expression is at first surprised, but then worried. “Is something wrong?”
I feel bad that I’m so distant that when I do reach out to him, he thinks something is wrong. “Not wrong. I’m just wondering if you have news about Nic’s investigation.”
He sits back, his dark eyes studying me. “Already sick of me?” There’s humor in his eyes, and yet, I hear a tinge of hurt too.
“Not at all. I’m grateful, I just… living in limbo is difficult, even more so for the kids.” That’s not quite true. They seem perfectly content. But routine is important to kids.
He waves me in as he rises. He goes to a shelf on his bookcase with a tray and bottles of booze. He downs the glass he has and pours another. “Would you like something?”
“No. Thank you.” I’d had a little bit to drink the night I’d garnered the courage to ask him to have sex with me, to show me how nice it could be knowing it would be a chore with Aldo.
His inviting me suggests he knows something, so I make myself comfortable on the leather couch near his desk.
He sits at the other end, sipping his drink. “Nic has a few men he’s looking at. Rinella?—”
“Bella’s father?”
He nods. “He’s unhappy that Nic thwarted his deal with Gino but still took his daughter. I don’t think he’s high on the list, though.”
“Who is high?”
His dark eyes watch me over the rim of his glass as he takes another sip of his drink. “Benny.”
“Benny?” God. I thought Nic had scared him off.
“Currently, he’s in Atlantic City. Nic has eyes on him.”
“He likes gambling and women.” Benny is one of those men who think they’re God’s gift to everyone, but really, he’s a smarmy, annoying jerk.
“He’s also looking at a Russian and something within the organization.”
My brow furrows. “Someone who works for him? Is he still working for him?”
He nods. “Keep your enemies close, right? He’s the son of one of the men who tried to oust Nic after Gino’s demise. Ricardo Avila. You know him?”
I think about the name, but it doesn’t mean anything. Truth is, I only know a few of the higher ups in Nic’s business and the soldiers he assigns to guard me and the kids.
“Did he do something to make Nic suspect him?”
“Well, Nic killed his father, so that gives him a motive, but in terms of behavior, what Nic is suspicious of is how unsuspicious he is.”
“What does that mean?”