Page 28 of Sexting His Son's Ex
I’m smarter than him and right now, I don’t like being outsmarted by someone who doesn’t know how to control his own territory. Now, he wants mine? For what?
It makes no sense.
“What would you like the next steps to be?” Lorenzo asks.
“I want to know what my stepbrother is up to. I don’t care what it takes. Find someone who is willing to turn on him, offer them protection here.”
“And then?” Omar leans forward, a serious expression his mother also had when she wanted to know more.
“And then, we use it to our advantage. We have time. He didn’t get what he wanted from me today. He’ll keep trying before he retorts to anymore violence. Trying to flip another one of my men will blow his cover. Mark failed so Bianchi is needing to start over.”
“I can’t believe that prick is my uncle.” Omar glares at the window, his fingers curling into a tight fist.
“He isn’t,” I remind him. “He is not family. He isn’t your uncle. Being a part of someone’s past doesn’t mean they are welcome in your future.”
“Doesn’t it bother you?” Omar’s voice is smaller like a small boy curious about the world instead of a grown man about to take on a kingdom.
Lorenzo puts in his earbuds, knowing this conversation isn’t meant for him. It’s between father and son.
Omar isn’t my employee right now. He’s my kid, wondering what it would have been like to have an uncle who loves him instead of wanting to kill him.
“It used to,” I admit, slapping my hand on his knee, and he lifts his big gaze up at me.
It hits me that not once have I ever thought about how my relationship with Bianchi would affect my children. Omar and Luca only ever had me and their mother. They don’t have any other family except me and the people who would give their lives for us who are in the Salvati Syndicate.
“Why doesn’t it anymore? What did he used to be like? Was he always like this?”
“Hmm,” I hum, bringing up all the memories of Bianchi and I as children. “Our parents, your grandparents, were amazing people. They brought the two territories together which had never been done before, but love is love. You can’t stop it, no matter if the issues might arise, if it’s worth fighting for, you fight for it. I remember being excited about having a brother. I was the only child and so was Bianchi, but he wasn’t happy about the change at all.
I clear my throat, and then continue. “He was always distant with me. We never played like children do. We were always learning about the business. If you’re wondering if he was always cold, then yes. Greedy? Yes. Whatever I had, he had to have. Whatever I dreamed, he dreamed it too—for himself. He always believed the crown belonged to him because he is older. And his greed was worse when he found out that in the will, our parents split the territories again. When they joined, their people were not happy. The citizens. Death threats came, the police weren’t happy, there was too much power which was why they decided to split again. We have the North. Bianchi has the south. That’s what he always wanted, which is why I’m confused he wants to join forces again.”
I pass the scotch to Omar, offering him a drink. He takes it from me, taking a large gulp.
“To answer your question, yes. He’s always been like this. No, it doesn’t bother me anymore because him and I were never family. We were never meant to be family no matter how much our parents tried. You and your brother didn’t miss out on an amazing uncle. He would be the exact same. He’d use you until he had no use for you. That’s who he is. Does it bother you? That he isn’t your uncle?”
Omar exhales, the liquid in the bottle sloshing as he brings it to his lips. “A little,” he admits. “I’m not dreaming of having him as an uncle or anything. I know he is a piece of shit. I just wish…” He lifts a shoulder and shrugs. “I wish mom were here. That’s all. I miss her. I miss you being happy. I miss our family. Now, everything is so business oriented. It’s almost like we’re not even family at all.”
“Don’t say that,” I seethe, his words a bullet to my heart. “We are family. Me. You. Luca. That’s all we need. As long as we have each other, we will be okay. You’re my boy.” I lean over to pat his cheek. “I miss your mom too.”
“I know,” he swallows. “You’ve been so unhappy for so long. I barely recognize who you are anymore. Except lately. You’ve smiled more and I don’t know why, but I miss happiness, Dad. I know happiness doesn’t look tough or brave?—”
I interrupt him, taking his hands in mine as if he were eight years old, crying over a scraped knee. “Happiness is the bravest, toughest, hardest thing any man or woman or child can accomplish in life, Omar. The biggest. If this life doesn’t make you happy, I will gladly support you in whatever does. I know this line of work isn’t easy. It’s brutal and exhausting. It’s why it’s important to have love somewhere in your life. And not love for your family. Somethingonly youhave.” I poke the middle of his chest. “Something that is yours and it can’t be taken. Likeyour mother’s life. It will always be mine.” I pat my heart. “No one will ever have it. Do you understand?”
He nods, his eyes becoming harder, the curiosity fleeting. “I want to do this job. I’m honored you picked me over Luca, but what about you, Dad? Will you ever find happiness again, somewhere or in someone else? You tell me to have love, to find happiness, but what about you?”
“I had my happiness. It’s someone else’s turn,” I explain, slouching back in my seat when Jovie’s face comes to mind.
“That’s bullshit and you know it.”
“Change is hard to put in motion when you’ve been living in the gray for so long,” I say through a whisper.
“Maybe the gray is waiting for change too,” Omar adds, leaning his head against the window and closes his eyes.
When the cab of the car is silent, I pull out my phone to see a picture from Terrance. Another bouquet has been delivered. I smile, the muscles in my cheeks hurting from being used so often in the last few days.
I text Ms. Smith and send her the picture.
Me: “Still trying to woo me? ; ) They are beautiful.”
