Gian made a face. “That’s less fun, though.”
“But quicker, and I would—”
“Like to get back to her, I imagine,” his father murmured, steepling his fingers over his desk. Corrado opened his mouth to deny that statement, and the connotation behind it, but Gian was quick to add, “You know, I watched you for a while ... the two of you. I could explain your hand constantly reaching for her, or staying on her, when I also know that you are supposed to be hiding the young woman from her family. Except ... you know she’s safe here, and two feet of space won’t really make much of a difference, would it?”
Corrado swallowed back his denial.
What would be the point?
“So,” Gian continued, “the only explanation why you keep touching or reaching for her is because you want to. And then if I move onto the way you watch her ... the way you stare when you think people aren’t looking, and I am left wondering something here.”
“Or you could mind your business,” Corrado replied.
His father shook his head. “I can’t ... not when I’m concerned.”
“About what? The fact I have a woman with me, and I seem interested in her?”
“No,” Gian replied just as fast and still calm, “the fact that someone else isn’t with you ... your brother mentioned, at the time he met Ginevra, you said Alessio didn’t know she was with you, and I have to wonder if he does now.”
Corrado stiffened.
Gian raised a brow in response. “What, son?”
“What would that matter to you—if Alessio knew or not?”
A flicker of confusion drifted over his father’s features before Gian was back to that same, unbothered demeanor as before. “Because I wonder if something happened with Alessio, Corrado. Has something changed there, and you’ve not told me?”
A lot happened, then.
Or rather, Corrado realized a lot of things.
This moment that he’d wondered and worried about for most of his life was actually happening. His father might not be directly saying it, but he wasn’t dancing around it purposely, either. Gian was outright asking about Alessio, and Corrado’s relationship.
Because he knew.
And that was something else he realized, then.
His father knew.
His mother probably did, too.
All his brothers.
Of course, he knew that. And yet, a part of him had still thought, after all this time, that his family were fine and comfortable in their place of not asking. Because if they didn’t ask him, then he would never have to tell.
Not because they didn’t love or accept him exactly as he was, but because this was how he chose to live his life. Not offering his personal life out like it was meant for their consumption.
“Corrado?”
He blinked, coming out of his thoughts with a bang. “I have not told Alessio about her, no.”
Gian let out a slow exhale. “I know you two ... have a different kind of agreement about your relationship and other people, specifically women. I’m not sure if she falls under that, and guessing by your behavior right now, I don’t think—”
“How do you know that at all?”
“I asked.”
Corrado’s jaw ached from clenching so hard. “Asked who?”
“Alessio.”
Huh.
“And not me?”
And why hadn’t Alessio told him that?
When had that even happened?
In the corner of the room, pouring himself a glass of scotch, Marcus cleared his throat, but otherwise, paid the conversation no mind. His oldest brother was good for that—more like their father than the rest of them combined, honestly.
Marcus was fit for his position as the Guzzi heir.
Undoubtedly.
“Corrado,” Gian said, drawing his attention back in, “I just want to make sure you’re happy, son, and that everything is okay. Don’t think this was me trying to cause a problem, or ... something like that. It wasn’t. I just worry about you. More than I do the others, sometimes.”
“I know I need to tell him,” Corrado managed to say. “I just don’t know how. It’s not just her ... it’s more than what’s on the surface of it, Papa.”
Gian frowned. “All right. I’m sorry.”
Corrado wished his throat wasn’t so tight when he asked, “How long did you know?”
“About what—that you liked boys, too, or that you and Alessio were living and sleeping together?”
Well ...
“Both.”
Gian nodded. “From the time you were fifteen for when I knew you liked boys, too. As for Alessio ... I was told about the kiss in The League’s gym shortly after it happened. Otherwise, I assumed on that based on the obvious fact you were clearly in a relationship with him.”
Huh.
“How did you know since I was fifteen?”
“Cameras caught you kissing the boy from your school. I had the footage deleted, and your mother and I simply decided we wouldn’t pressure you in any way. We knew about the women you’d dated before that. And so, when, or if, you wanted to tell us that you were bisexual, then that was when you would tell us. It wasn’t for us to decide when it was your time to tell your truth, Corrado.”
“I always thought—” He stopped abruptly, unwilling to say the words. It was the look his father gave him, willing him to speak, that allowed him to do it. “I thought you didn’t ask because ... I thought you didn’t want to know.”
Gian rested back in the chair.
Across the room, Marcus set his glass down.
“Because of the traditions?”
The traditions.
Such a simple way to describe the culture of mafioso that his family was so deeply engrained in.
“Essentially,” Corrado replied.
Gian let out a noise, dark and dismissive. “I almost burned the city down once for a woman ... could you imagine what I would do to it for a child that woman gave to me, Corrado? Because that is what I would do for any of you—the way God made you never mattered one way or another. This life, this legacy, and this name ... it means nothing compared to what you, your brothers, and your mother mean to me. It gave me nothing compared to what she sacrificed and gave to me.”
“I should have told you.”
He should have done and said a lot of things.
Not all to the people in this room, or house, either. But to Alessio, also, who still hadn’t called. The man with the piece of his heart that Corrado left in Vegas probably thinking they were chasing a dead fucking end together.
Because how long had they been doing this together?
How long had Alessio put up with this shit?
How much more would he take?
Except now ... now it was more complicated because Corrado had feelings in the game for a woman he had no business feeling anything for, and all this without having done nothing more than kiss her.
He’d punched those nails in.
That coffin was closing.
Corrado had no one to blame but himself.
“I should get back to Ginevra,” he said quietly.
Gian tipped his head to the side, clearly hearing the pain in Corrado’s words. “Son—”
“I have to get back.”
“Okay.”