Page 69 of Redemption
“Undoubtedly, it is true,” my mother chimes in. “After all, she has been working side by side with you for nearly fifty years. If she can’t run the company by now, I would question whether she’d learned anything at all in that time, and we all know she never forgets a thing.”
My father nods in assent at my mother before looking to me. “Now that you’re rested, we can show you your heritage. The islands are only one part. There is the country estate in Tuscany, the chateau in the Dolomites, a building in Milan, the flat and yacht in Cinque Terre, as well as a villa in Palermo. We have a rich history in this country and much to show you. How many months will you stay? Or perhaps you will just stay indefinitely. From what I understand from Marco, things are not ideal in America for you right now.”
I glance at Marco and wonder how much he’s told our father about me, my business, and my past. He gives me a small shake of his head, and I believe that means he hasn’t told the secrets that are mine to tell.
I reach over to squeeze Keira’s hand and reply to my father, “I don’t know what our exact plans are right now. We left behind a complicated situation that required space to determine how best to respond. But most importantly, we came because this was an opportunity I could not pass up for the world.”
“Complicated situation?” my father asks, hooking into the vagueness of my statement.
I have an option right here, right now, to tell him the truth. It would be just as easy to gloss over it, but something inside me says that my father is not going to tell me to leave now, no matter what I share with him.
“I haven’t exactly made my living on the right side of the law. It wasn’t wholly by choice, but it is a situation I created, and therefore, I am the one who will have to handle it and deal with the consequences, for better or for worse.”
“You are a criminal?” my father asks, although I register no judgment in his tone.
“Yes,” I reply honestly.
“What kind of criminal?”
“The kingpin of an empire,” Keira supplies, saving me from coming up with an appropriate description of my role in New Orleans.
My father’s laugh surprises me more than anything. He sits back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest. “Of course you are. A Giordano always rises to the top.”
His easy acceptance shocks me.
Then, my mother chimes in, “But you do not wish to be this anymore, correct? You have a beautiful daughter. A wonderful wife. Such a life cannot be safe for them.”
“No, not anymore. It’s time to pull the pin on the grenade that is my empire and let the whole thing go up in flames.”
“That sounds dangerous too, my son,” my mother replies with a gentle smile.
It’s not really the breakfast conversation I anticipated or even wanted to be having, but I can’t hide who I am from my family. Through divine timing, my brother and mother arrived just when I needed them most. All I can do is be honest about my intent to change and extricate myself and my family from the hell I created.
“It’s necessary,” I reply.
“Do you have a plan?” my father asks.
I nod twice. “Yes. I have a dead man’s switch in place that has to be activated. To the extent it’s possible, it will undo some of what I’ve done and set many things right. It will also end my association with anything criminal and everything related to New Orleans.”
My father’s chin lifts, as if in approval. “I like this plan. You should activate your switch so you can live free as a Giordano and enjoy the rest of your life here, in Italy, with your family. There is no need for you to return to America ever.”
I feel Keira tense beside me, and I know the idea of never returning to America, where her family lives, is not her idea of happily ever after.
I’m so sorry, Hellion. I’ll do my best to make sure that we can return … eventually. I squeeze her hand with my silent promise, and she squeezes mine back.
“Except I must return to activate my plan. My fail-safe was … eliminated … not long ago.”
A quiet hush descends over the table, and my mother is the first to break it. “You will stay for at least a week before you return. That is my request. This time with family is both priceless and precious. Anything can wait for a week. Please, give me that, if you can.”
Keira’s grip tightens on my hand, and I swallow the lump forming in my throat. I know my wife wants to speak for us—to agree that we will absolutely stay for at least a week—and staring into my mother’s beautiful brown eyes, I can’t possibly say no.
“Of course. If that is your wish, a week it is.”
“And after that?” my father asks.
“We shall see,” I reply. “We shall see.”
“Thank you, my son. We shall take this week as the blessing that it is and enjoy every moment,” my mother says with a smile. “Now, we dine as a family. Eat, eat.”
