Beast I Can’t Tame by L.K. Shaw

Chapter 4

Giovanni

The wait has been endless.I’ve done nothing but hide out in my tiny, studio apartment, staring at the four, mostly blank walls, and avoiding everything.

Everyone.

I’m not used to being idle, but between this bum leg, arm cast, and all the various aches and pains that still make me catch my breath, I’ve been forced to slow down. I hate it. But the thought of running into Jacob, Pierce, or any other person who had been within hearing distance of my mother’s stupid announcement makes me twitchy. I can’t even go to Gallo’s and work out some of my frustration.

Dr. Marino had shown up to the church and taken Jacob’s and my DNA samples. Since then, it’s been a waiting game. A part of me hopes my mother is lying. There’s also a bigger part that hopes she’s telling the truth.

From the couch, my phone rings. I’m tempted to ignore it, like I have every other instance, but I pick it up and sigh at the name displayed on the screen. I’ve lost track of how many times Francesca has called me. Always checking up to make sure I’m following the doctor’s instructions. I can’t ignore her forever, though. Taking a deep breath, I swipe to answer.

“Hello.”

“Finally,” she blurts out, her annoyance clear. “I’ve been trying to reach you all week.”

“Sorry, I’ve been busy,” I lie.

“Is—” Francesca hesitates. “Is everything okay? You know, with your mom?”

“Nothing is ever okay with her.” Why did I tell her that? I don’t talk about her with anyone.

“I’m sorry. I know how challenging moms can be. Mine’s the same way. We don’t get along either, so I understand.”

For some reason, I can’t stop talking. “She has a lot of problems. Drugs. Alcohol. I actually haven’t spoken to her in quite a few years. She’s not going to win any mother of the year awards any time soon.”

Francesca chuckles. “Neither is my mom. She’s…difficult, I guess you could say.” There’s a short pause. “There are times when it seems like she actually hates me.”

I’m not sure if she knows it’s there, but there’s a hint of sadness to her admission. It’s also something we have in common. I’m not sure my mother ever loved me, either.

“At least you have your brother,” I tell her, then wince, hoping she doesn’t question me about what went down last week.

“I’m lucky that Pierce and I are so close. Especially after our father died. Mother only got worse then. I’m not sure what I would have done without him. I can’t imagine if I’d been an only child.”

I don’t really want to talk about this anymore. “Did you call for something special?” The question comes out a little harsher than I mean it to.

“I just wanted to check and make sure you were okay since I haven’t heard from you,” she says, not bothering to disguise her hurt. “You’re not doing too much, are you? How’s physical therapy going?”

“No, I’m not doing too much. And therapy is fine.” I haven’t been going. There’s no reason to. Because I’m fine. As soon as I get this stupid cast off my arm, I’ll be even better. All I need to do is get back to work. After I am done hiding, of course. Hell, I may either be out of a job or dead by the time the dust settles.

“Gio,” she scolds.

“Let it go, Francesca,” I say, sharper than I should.

She sniffs a little, and a flood of guilt washes over me, but I stifle it. Being fussed over makes me uncomfortable. Like I can’t take care of myself. Something I’ve been doing since I was a kid.

“I’m just worried,” she says. “Between your recovery and whatever happened at Uncle Sal’s funeral—that no one will tell me about—I want to make sure you’re okay.”

I can’t help but smile at her pointed emphasis on the fact that there’s a secret she doesn’t know and doesn’t seem too happy about. My expression drops. I debate whether to be the one to fill her in and decide against it. I’m not ready to share it. Maybe once the results come in. I doubt a secret this big will stay a secret for long.

“Thank you for checking up on me. Everything is fine.”

“You know any time someone says ‘everything is fine’, it’s never really,” she states.

How did I not ever notice before how stubborn she is, and doesn’t let things go? Or is this a new trait that’s just starting to emerge? Either way, she’s relentless.

“How’s the search going for that photography class you were looking into?” I ask.

She growls. Actually growls. “You’re as bad as my brother is with changing the topic when you don’t want to talk about something. Fine, keep your secrets. And it’s going terribly. I haven’t found one that really speaks to me. Either the photographer doesn’t feel right or their teaching style isn’t right for me.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sure you’ll find something soon. You just have to keep looking and be patient. The right one will fall into your lap before you know it,” I assure her.

“Thank you. I hope you’re right. I don’t just want any instructor. I want the best. At least, the best for me,” she says. “I didn’t think it would be this hard to find someone.”

I understand her impatience and need for perfection. I’m the same way about certain things. It’s something else we have in common. There’s a sudden single knock on my door. It’s loud, though. And powerful.

“Francesca, I have to go. Someone’s here.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll talk to you later,” she says.

I end the call and move the few short steps to glance out the peephole. I’m not surprised by who stands on the other side. Only by the fact he’s alone. From his expression, this isn’t a social visit.

My palms feel clammy. Ignoring the nervous weight in my gut, I open the door. Jacob and I stare at each other for several beats before I finally step back, widening the entrance for him.

He strides past me and I close us inside. I rest against the wooden surface with my arms crossed. My finger plucks nervously at the plaster cast on the underside of my arm, where the action isn’t visible. Jacob doesn’t say anything at first. He slowly pivots in the middle of my personal space, his eyes taking in everything. No doubt not missing a single detail.

I don’t have any mementos hanging on the wall or displayed on shelves. My place is functional. Some might say barren. There isn’t much I need. A bed to sleep on and place to cook a few meals. I own a small television that gathers dust, but that’s about it. It’s a far cry from the luxury that Jacob lives in. 

“Nice place,” he says, blandly, finally turning toward me. There’s no sarcasm, but he’s also clearly not impressed. Which is fine. I’ve never been one to try and impress people.

“Thanks. Can I help you with something?” I try to keep the impatience out of my tone.

“I heard from Marino.”

That has me standing at attention. My heart races and the nausea returns to my gut. This is it. Whatever he says next will change my life. Hell, both of our lives. I swallow hard before responding. “And?”

Jacob’s jaw tightens. It’s the only indication I get regarding his emotions. His expression is blank. Completely unreadable. Even his eyes don’t give anything away.

“It would appear your mother may be telling the truth,” he finally says.

Just like that my whole existence seems to explode. “May be?”

He nods. “Marino said there’s a margin of error with the results, but they came back ninety-seven point some percent conclusive that we share the same DNA.”

I rub my hand over my cheek and exhale. I’m not sure what to say. Does this change things? “I see,” I say, almost stupidly. What else is there?

It seems like Jacob isn’t sure what to say either, because he remains rigid and still.

“So, you’re my half-brother, then.” I meant it as a question, but it doesn’t come out that way.

“It would seem so,” he replies in a flat tone.

I nod, absently, a few times, trying to process the news. I’ve always wanted a brother. Someone to help ease the loneliness I felt growing up with an absent, and unloving, mother. I’m not sure he’s the one I would have picked, though. Especially not under these circumstances. It makes everything that’s happened over the last year surreal.

All this time I’ve been working for my father. My brother. Wanting to be like him. To be a part of this family. Wait.

“Do you think your—our—father knew who I was?” I ask. “When he hired me, I mean.”

“Maybe. I have no idea. We’ll probably never know for sure.”

The senior Mr. Ricci never gave any indication that he was aware of our relationship. I hate the fact I’ll always wonder.

Shit. What does this mean about Francesca and me?

“How are you and Pierce related?” I ask quickly, the nausea returning for an entirely different reason.

Jacob raises a brow. “Don’t worry that you’re in love with your cousin or anything. She’s related to me through our mothers, not our fathers.”

Thank God.

Of course he knew I was really asking because of her. It’s not as though I haven’t made my feelings obvious. At least to everyone else.

“I take it you haven’t shared this with anyone?” I ask.

“Jesus, no. Not until I figure out what to do with the revelation. As well as your mother.” Jacob stares pointedly at me. “I’m still not entirely convinced you knew nothing about this.”

I try not to take offense. Given the circumstances, I might think the same thing. “How can I prove to you I had no idea?”

He studies me. “I don’t know.”

“What’s next?” I ask.

“I don’t know that, either,” he repeats with a heavy sigh.