Sempre (Forever Series #1)(53)

Dr. DeMarco spoke up again, his voice sharp. “A diploma may not matter in our line of work, but it’s not about a piece of paper. It’s about finishing what you started, being dedicated and not selling out. Nothing is worse than an opportunist.”

“I wouldn’t call it being an opportunist,” Nunzio said. “It’s wising up and changing priorities.”

“Your priorities shouldn’t change when you’re on a path you swore you’d stay on,” Vincent said. “Carmine’s mother would want him to see it through.”

Nunzio shrugged. “But Maura’s not here anymore, so why does it matter what she’d want?”

Dr. DeMarco jumped to his feet, his chair crashing to the floor. “Don’t even say her name, scarafaggio! You never disregard your family!”

Haven tensed, her heart feverishly pounding and making her dizzy. Salvatore grabbed Dr. DeMarco’s arm and forced him to sit down. They went back to eating without another word, strained silence overtaking the room.

“So, Haven . . .”

Her name spoken in the high-pitched voice made the fork slip from her fingers. It clanged against her plate, and she winced at the sound. Taking a deep breath, she glanced at Salvatore. She wanted nothing more than to blend into the background, wishing she could be overlooked.

“You don’t have to be nervous,” Salvatore said. “I’m just curious how you’re finding life with Vincent. As hidden away as you were, I wondered if you were a figment of the imagination.”

“The DeMarcos are kind to me, sir,” she said quietly. “They treat me fairly.”

Salvatore nodded. “That’s great to hear. If I had known the Antonellis acted so cruelly, I would’ve stepped in. By the time Vincent informed me, it was too complicated to intervene.”

Before Haven had the chance to make sense of what he had said, Carmine interjected. “What the f**k are you talking about?”

Dr. DeMarco groaned. “Mind your manners, son.”

Salvatore shrugged. “Perhaps I’ve said too much. Forget I brought it up.”

“You can’t say some shit like that and then say, ‘forget about it,’” Carmine said. “If you knew one of your own abused a kid, why didn’t you do anything?”

Salvatore glanced at Dr. DeMarco, who subtly shook his head.

“Michael Antonelli is hardly one of our own,” Salvatore said, turning back to Carmine. “There are certain rules that govern this life—rules you can’t disregard because you don’t like something that’s going on. Personal feelings have no place in business.”

Nunzio let out a bitter laugh from his seat but offered no opinion.

The strained silence returned as Carmine glared at Salvatore and his father. They seemed oblivious to the looks, both of them instead focusing on Haven.

She cleared her throat, unable to take it. “Thank you for your concern, sir.”

Under his breath, Carmine mumbled, “Don’t f**king thank him.”

* * *

Haven lay with her head on Carmine’s shoulder later that night as the two of them watched a movie in her bedroom. She ran her fingers down his forearm and stroked the back of his hand before turning it over and tracing the creases of his palm. His fingers twitched as she grazed the tattoo on his wrist. “Do you really believe that? Trust no one?”

“I used to,” he said. “Until you came along.”

She picked her head up to look at him. “You trust me?”

“Yeah, why does that surprise you?” he asked. “I let you sleep in my bed and be around my stuff. You think I’d do that if I didn’t trust you? That’s not me at all.”

“That’s right,” she said. “You’re finicky.”

He chuckled, shaking their bodies with the motion. “Am I that bad?”

“No,” she said. “You still won’t let me clean your room, though.”

He sighed exaggeratedly. “That has nothing to do with trust or being finicky. I feel like an a**hole having you clean up after me. I mean, you’re my girl—you aren’t supposed to do that shit.”

A swell of hope surged inside her when the words my girl rolled from his lips. “But don’t you see? That’s one of the only things I can do for you. I have nothing to offer, Carmine. No way to make you happy.”

He stared at her, his expression intense. Self-conscious, Haven looked away, but Carmine grasped her chin and pulled her gaze back to him. “Don’t feel like you have to do things to impress me. Being yourself is enough to keep me interested.”

Staring at him, she wondered if it could really be that simple.

“You’re pure,” he said, as if he could sense her reservation. “After everything I’ve done, I just hope I can be good enough for you.”

She blinked a few times, stunned he’d say such a thing. “You’re too good for me.”

“Me?” He scoffed. “Are we talking about the same person? The selfish f**ker who curses and yells and beats up people because he can’t control his temper? You know, the one who drinks like a fish and fries his brain with drugs? That person is too good for you?”

She shook her head. “I’m talking about the boy who shared his chocolate bar with me when he probably never shared anything before, who gave me his mama’s favorite book because he thought I deserved to read. I’m talking about the boy who treats me like a regular girl, the one who desperately needs his bedroom cleaned and laundry washed but chooses to live in a mess and wear dirty clothes because he’s too polite to ask the girl he kisses for help.”