Somebody's Angel (#5 in a Military Romance / BDSM Romance series) (Rescue Me) (65 page)

M
arc squeezed Angelina’s hand as the elevator ascended to Mama and Papa’s penthouse condo. He wasn’t sure what information he would come away with this time, but the memories stirred up last week needed to be placed into some context he could use to make sense of his past.

“I’m proud of you, Marc.”

He glanced down at her and smiled. “For finally facing my mama?”

She grinned. “No, for being courageous enough to confront the past head-on the way you did. A lot of people would just keep muddling through and not try to change behaviors that weren’t working for them. That you were willing to face your fears and go through so much to break down the walls blocking you from a better life is just…one of the reasons I love you.”

Marc wasn’t sure any of his newfound revelations would change how he acted, but… “One thing I do know is I never would have gone through that if you hadn’t held my feet to the fire—or shown me you wouldn’t put up with my shit.” She had encouraged him to find the truth all along, but he hadn’t been ready to deal with it until now. Thank God he had her standing beside him for today’s meeting with Mama.

The elevator doors opened, and he motioned for her to precede him out of the car. They knocked and Carmella opened the door, greeting them with hugs and kisses. Marc had expected to see Mama, maybe Papa, but not his sister.

“So great to see you both again!” She waved them in. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“No, thanks. We just had lunch.” Belatedly, Marc realized he shouldn’t answer for Angelina and turned toward her. “Sorry. Did you want something?”

She beamed at him. “No, I’m fine. Better than fine. Thanks for asking.”

Marc wasn’t sure why Angelina was smiling so broadly or why she thanked him instead of Carmella for the offered refreshments, but he hoped her face would light up like that again and often. He bent to give her a kiss on the lips.

“Mama and Papa are being very hush-hush. Do you know what the family meeting is all about?”

Family meeting?
Marc just wanted to have a private conversation with his parents. He wondered why Mama had told them to meet at home rather than in her office.

Placing his hand at the small of Angelina’s back, he guided her ahead of him. Surprisingly less nervous than he had been in February when they had come here, he knew nothing Mama could say would be so devastating it would send him into another tailspin. He already knew most of what had happened and was coming to terms with the past, slowly.

Papa stood by the window with his arm around Mama’s waist; Sandro sat on the sofa going through an old photo album.

Everyone turned to face them at once. Angelina looked up at him, worry on her face. Marc no longer knew what to expect. He no longer felt he had any control.

Mama motioned them to join Sandro in the seating area, but Marc had some unfinished business to take care of first. He walked over to his parents and wrapped Mama in a hug.

She surprised him by holding onto him tightly and whispering, “I’m so glad you came back to me, Marco.”

“Mama, I’m sorry for being such a sh—…such an ungrateful son. I know you’ve always loved me and taken care of me, even when you didn’t have to. Thank you for adopting Gino and me.”

She pulled away, tears in her eyes and a quizzical look on her face. “I could never have walked away from you two boys.” She motioned them to the seating area. “We can talk more about those days. I promise to be as forthright as I can to help you put the pieces together.”

“I’d like that very much, Mama.”

“But first there are some things I need to say to you all.” Her hand swept the room. “Things that should have been said long ago. Now, please sit, everyone.”

Before following Mama’s directive, Marc gave Papa a rare hug, too. This was the first time he’d seen the man since learning he wasn’t Marc and Gino’s birth father. “I love you, too, Papa. Thank you for being the best papa any kid could want. That includes grown kids, too.” Blood or not, this man had raised him and given Marc his roots and wings. When Marc pulled away, he could have sworn the stoic man had tears in his eyes. Good, because Marc certainly did. Sometimes being Italian had its perks. No one thought you any less a man if you shed a few tears when faced with real emotion. Part of what had been unleashed in that interrogation scene and in the aftercare that followed was that Marc no longer denied his emotions. He expressed them.

Express, not repress.

The line from Angelina’s favorite movie made him smile.

Angelina gave each of his parents a hug, too, before walking over to the settee and greeting his siblings across the coffee table. Marc followed and hugged them as well before taking a seat beside Angelina. Mama took the wingback, and Papa sat on the arm of her chair, his arm around Mama’s shoulders. She appeared to be trembling with emotion.

Marc had intended to come in with both barrels loaded with questions, but instinct told him he needed to listen first. Mama had invited everyone here for a reason. After a long silence, Papa patted her back as if signaling her. Marc had wondered if her marriage to Papa had been one of convenience to achieve the goal of adopting him and Gino. No matter how their relationship began, though, they certainly had grown to love each other over their decades together.

“Thank you for being here today,” Mama began. “This gathering is long overdue.” Her chin quivered, and she pressed her lips together until she regained her composure. “I never wanted to hurt any of you.”

She stared pointedly at Marc, and he nodded his understanding.

“I hope what I have to say won’t upset anyone any more than I already have, but I have lived with this for a very long time and need to be honest with you about some things.”

She paused, wringing her hands, no longer making eye contact with anyone.

Marc hated to see her so emotional but knew this probably was something she needed to get out. “Mama, take your time.”

She nodded and smiled her appreciation to him, drawing in a deep breath. “You know about Gramps and my mama meeting during the Second World War. I was born from that…meeting.” Mama didn’t talk about sex. Marc grinned. “My mother then married my stepfather after the war ended, and they had my sister, Emiliana. She and I weren’t particularly close growing up. Perhaps we might have been one day, but she died young, making that forever impossible.”

Angelina reached across the settee and took Marc’s hand. Like him, she probably was thinking about Marc and Gino and how their relationship had disintegrated in youth, something they had had no chance to rectify later.

“My sister married Paolo Solari. He owned a resort I worked at…” Mama’s breathing became more rapid and shallow, and she stopped speaking.

Papa stroked her back. “Take your time,
amore
. Breathe.”

She did as he instructed. “Paolo and Emiliana were Gino’s parents.” Marc was about to remind her of his birth to them as well but remembered what Paolo had said about Marc’s origins. At the moment, Mama was busy dealing with Carmella’s realization Gino was her cousin rather than her brother by birth.

“He loved you and Sandro just as much as he did Marco. To him, you were his brother and sister, just as sure as if you shared the same parents.”

With tears streaming down her face, Mama turned her gaze to Marc as if in slow motion. He blocked out everything and everyone in the room except her, knowing her next words would provide him with one of the answers he’d come here seeking today.

“Paolo is your father, as well, Marco. But Emiliana is not your mother.” She drew another deep breath. “I am. I gave birth to you three years after Gino was born.”

Papa’s voice commanded his attention. “Before you jump to conclusions, son, hear Mama out.”

Marc nodded. No worries about remaining silent, because he wasn’t able to form any words at the moment even if he’d wanted to.

“It’s important that… I mean to say…” She drew another breath and composed herself. “Paolo Solari is not a good man.”

Marc found his voice at last. “You don’t have to tell me, Mama. I met him in February.”

She drew in a sharp breath and raised her eyebrows in shock. “You what?”

Marc hadn’t intended to drop the revelation without warning, but it was too late now. “I flew to Italy in late February, because I needed to meet the man you told me had…fathered me.” Marc turned to Papa. “He is in no way someone I would ever consider to be my father. I’ll always be grateful to you, Papa, for assuming that role when you married Mama.”

Mama said, “I wish you’d told me before you’d decided to do that, Marco.” Marc turned his attention once more to Mama. “That man isn’t fit to be in your presence. He didn’t earn the right to be around either of you boys.” Her chin shook with emotion. “When he walked out on Emiliana, I was relieved that I could finally be with my sister again after a long absence. We didn’t have many months left.”

Her words led Marc to wonder if the man had abused him or Gino, but none of Marc’s memories during the interrogation or the aftermath hinted at anything like that. Solari was negligent, a womanizer, and an asswipe. He dished out discipline more harshly than Emiliana, but lots of parents believed in corporal punishment. That man would remain a solid piece of shit in Marc’s mind, but Mama hinted at something worse. What?

When Mama didn’t continue, Marc prompted, “I don’t understand, Mama. What did he do?”

She looked up at Papa and whispered, “I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can. Remember, you did nothing wrong. You were a victim.”

Zia Natalia gripped his hand harder, and he looked up to see what had upset her. She seemed scared. When he followed her gaze, he saw Papa.

“Your real mama isn’t dead like mine is.”

The memories hit him like a sledgehammer to the chest. Realization dawned at almost the same instant she spoke.

“Paolo forced me.”

“
Mio Dio!
” Angelina’s whispered words of shock registered as if from far away. She stroked Marc’s leg, grounding him in the moment when he wanted to escape.
Run
.

Somehow the thought he had been a love child made his beginnings a little less sordid. To have been born as the result of a rape, a violent act against his mother, was too disgusting to consider.

With sudden clarity, he realized Gino had known they had different mothers, if the words his brother had spoken had been truthful in one of the dreams, hallucinations, or whatever it was during the interrogation. Gino had said Marco still had his real mama while Gino’s had died. At six, Marc hoped Gino hadn’t known about the rape, but clearly he had been informed early on that he and Marc had different mothers. Did he remember at the age of three Marc coming into his family?

“Marc.” He turned toward Angelina’s voice. “Breathe. This has no bearing on who you are. That happened before you were even conceived.”

Her words seeped into his consciousness by slow degrees.

“Angelina’s right, Marco.” Mama’s voice drew his attention again.

He turned toward her but had no words to express what he felt. Sorrow for his mother. Anger at his father—no, his sperm donor. The man was not a father in any way, shape, or form.

“When I learned I carried you inside my body, I so desperately wanted you, even if you had been the product of… I never expected to find love or a husband or to have children of my own. That wasn’t my fate, or so I thought. I envied my sister with her precious little boy, Gino, but I was an old maid of thirty-two. I was convinced this might be my only chance at motherhood. Besides, terminating the pregnancy was unheard of, no matter the circumstances.”

Mama choked on a sob, and Marc stood to go to her, perching on the other arm of the chair. He placed his arms around her, and Papa pulled away to allow him closer contact.

“Oh, Marco, my mother insisted that Emiliana take you to raise along with her son. She didn’t want the stigma of a daughter having a child out of wedlock. My mama knew how painful that road would be and wanted to protect me and you both.”

Marc patted Mama’s back and let her cry. She’d kept her pain locked away a very long time. Tears burned Marc’s eyes. They truly were mother and son if his own tendency to bury his inner hurts was any indication. He glanced over Mama’s head at Angelina, who had tears streaming down her face as well, and smiled.

“The hardest thing I’ve ever had to do was hand you over to my sister just hours after your birth, knowing I wouldn’t see much of you because I could not bear to be anywhere near that man she had married.”

Marc tried to process this new information. Mama didn’t seem to be withholding anything today, so he had no doubt she told the truth. Who would make up a story like this?

“I never knew if she treated you well or resented you after finding out you were Paolo’s. I did not tell her the circumstances, which of course only led to further estrangement between us.”

“Mama, recently I remembered some things from my time with Emiliana, and I assure you she loved me, too. She didn’t take out any anger on me that I can recall.” Sure, he’d been spanked for disobeying, but he’d deserved it after hurting his babysitter because of his carelessness.