Marco sat motionless in one of the waiting chairs, his arms crossed over his chest and his trembling fingers bunched into fists as he reminded himself to inhale and then exhale. Knowing that with the current predicament heavy in the air, he had the tendency to forget breathing.
He couldn’t believe his own eyes, staring back at the red inflamed word: Operation.
Just three days ago – maybe more, maybe less – he had broken down and poured out to Sofia how everything was affecting him, how he had lost hope and believed that he would lose his brother. Now today, he sat outside the operation theater, with Salvatore inside on the slab and a team of the best physicians transplanting a heart into his chest.
At the realization of is brother getting a heart, he forced down the laugh that bubbled inside him and instead focused his attention on those around him.
It had been a little over a week since Marco had come back to the apartment.Up until Salvatore got discharged he was in the estate, but Sofia couldn't wait for him to be back in the apartment. Finding his constant visits and the discovery of his belongings rather endearing; he even asked her to come and help him pack up from his room in the estate. Sofia would never admit it, but she couldn't stop the relief from flooding her to know that he was back in the same vicinity as her, and now she could actually keep an eye on his recovery process.It came as no surprise to her that the Regnante family would be attending psychiatric therapy, the two years had been hell on all of them and left them traumatized for various reasons.But they wouldn't be starting until February, all of them needing some time on their own to recover.Even now, Sofia lay with her head prop
“I’m off to work,” Sofia hoisted her laptop bag onto her shoulder, biting back the smile to see Marco dropping over the counter, his hair on edge and his eyes closed while he munched on the pastry in hand. “I’ll be back by five-thirty and I’ll let you know if I’m going out with friends,” She kissed the top of his head as he hummed in acknowledgment with half-lidded eyes.Marco had had no plans of being up at this ungodly hour, he didn’t have any plans of being up before midday, but when the blonde had shifted out of his sleeping hold, his body had instantly felt the lack of warmth and jolted awake. His mind still lagging behind from his person’s conscious state. As compensation for the wake-up call, Sofia made him breakfast, which is why he was grazing at the speed of a snail with his eyes closed.“Bye,” She waved to his figure and stepped out w
Sofia’s legs were draped over Marco’s, the man lying on his back with his face turned to her while she was curled to her side, softly rubbing small circles on his chest with her fingertips. Marco’s eyes were closed, his breathing soft with a hand on his stomach, the other resting lazily on her thigh. The back and forth motion of his thumb over the silk material being the only indicator of him being awake.Humming to herself, Sofia shuffled closer and cupped the side of his face into her hand, rubbing her thumb over his cheekbone as Marco opened his eyes to look at her from between his lashes. Giving her a soft smile at the gesture, he placed a kiss on the inside of her palm before nuzzling into her warmth, a chuckle rumbling through his chest.“How’d it go?” Sofia murmured hardly above a whisper, shifting closer when Marco moved to be on his side, draping an arm across her side an
6 years laterThe moon rose high in the sky, bathing the dark backdrop in an ethereal glow as the white stars sparkled across the black canvas. The light pooled in through the window, illuminating Marco’s figure standing over a cot and patting the chest of the little boy before him. The three-year-old squirming under the covers and trying to kick them off, completely ignorant to the cold outside.“Demetrio,” Marco sighed and tucked covers around him. “Come on, buddy. Don’t be like this,”The boy only squirmed in response, the older man rubbing a hand over his fo
The winter sunlight filtered in through the open curtains, bathing the lounge in a warmth that had both inhabitants enjoying it on the lounge. Marco sat on the sofa, a file in hand with Sofia’s head in his lap and her focus on the booklet of questions on her thighs and scribbling on the pages.Soft music swimming through the apartment as the couple enjoyed the soothing Saturday morning.Marco combed his fingers through her golden tresses as he read the words before him, stopping his gesture of affection when Sofia’s fingers bumped against his when she scratched at her head. Redirecting his gaze at the touch, he watched his wife rest the pages on her thighs and pick up the calculator on her chest, muttering under her breath as she typed on the keys, picking up the booklet again before scribbling at the page. Chuckling under his breath, Marco returned his gaze to the file in his hand and resumed combing hi
Marco stood with tar like blood swimming through his system, ears ringing, and body numb. The words spoken repeating themselves like a broken tape recorder in his head. Salvatore blocking his way to Nikolai.“Your name is Aleksander Romanov, and you are my son,”If he were to believe what this man was saying, then that meant that he was a Romanov. Heir to a disgraced Mafia. His name was Aleksander, and not Marco, and he was Russian-born. Ironic how his heritage came from the place whose history Marco had been obsessed with. Not only that, but he didn’t speak a lick of the language. And if he had just heard was true then that man – that murderer – was his father.“Come with me,” Nikolai urged, beckoning him forward and ignoring all the guns aimed at him. &ldquo
Marco sat on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees and combed his fingers through his hair.The sound of the bedroom door opening elicited no response from his figure, and when light flooded the room behind him, he only gave a dismissible wince at the sudden brightness.“Marco,” Sofia’s voice came up behind him, her soft hands running up and down his hunched back. “You didn’t sleep at all last night,”“How could I?” Her husband scoffed at the words, straightening in his place and looking over his shoulder to where his wife sat kneeling behind him. “The reality of me being the enemy kept me up,”“You don’t know that baby,” She sighed and combed her fingers through his hair. “You don’t know for a fact that you are Aleksander
“This is the fucking Mafia, Mr. Romanov,” Salvatore stated jaw set in determination, eyes hard, and gun barrel aimed at Marco’s forehead.The youngest sitting still in his seat and growing deaf to the startled and panicked cries of those around him. His breathing loud in his ears and sweat beading the back of his neck, eyes zeroed in on the man who held his life in his hand.“Put that gun down!” Arcangelo's voice cracked through the silence, neither Salvatore nor Marco responding to the order. “I said, put it down, Salvatore!”Rosalie stood from her place when Salvatore approached Marco’s figure, being held back by her husband, knowing that intervening at the point, where they weren’t aware of their son’s mental state, could prove to be fatal.“Salvatore, stop it,” Serafina slowly spoke from her