I can't unlove you, and I don't want to.

                             ~Pintrest~

            Romano

"I find your presence in this place at this time, a little suspicious,"  I said to father Mario. I was tired, hungry, and I was beginning to get a headache. I imagined Bella must have been hungry as well. "What do you want to eat?" I asked, Leaning my head towards her not caring that we had become the center of attraction in the room except for Bruno, who still had his eyes fixed on Marion.

"I'm not sure," she whispered to me. I was sure I was the only one in the room who heard her response.

"Tell me what you want to eat." my voice turned soft and seductive, she flashed me a shy smile, touching her forehead with the tips of her fingers and half her face hidden beneath her hair.

"Anything?" She asked, sounding skeptical.

"Anything." I asserted, pointing towards the door at the two guys leaning on the door. "They will get you whatever you need."

"I will wait." That meant she was hungry, but she didn't want anyone to be inconvenienced on her account.

I nodded, palming her face before I returned my attention to the priest. He was watching us; his creepy eyes held a peculiar look, uncertain of what to make of my interaction with Mia.

"I've known you for close to seventeen years, and this is the longest time I've had your attention, and the only time you've spoken to me in more than a few words." the tone of his voice was telling. "Don't take it personally, I live with him, and sometimes he speaks to me in grunts, nods, and chuckles. Never known another bastard meaner with words than him." Bruno jumped in, clearing his throat, canting his head looking over for something, I imagined he was looking for an ashtray because all his cigarette buds were lying carelessly on top of his side of the table.

He didn't find it, so he placed the bud of the third cigarette at the same place.

"We don't have much time, Mario." He seemed offended that I didn't include his title. "You're here for me. You know how I know that?" I asked him, placing my hands on the long conference table. "Bruno wasn't in Italy until yesterday night, so I'm pretty sure you weren't expecting him." He gave a small nod, nervously rubbing his left elbow. "The question is, how did you know I'll be here?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at him. "I wasn't planning on being here until the attack, so how the hell did you know I would be here. But most importantly, how do you even know about this place?"

"I didn't know."

"Don't lie to me," I said calmly and dangerously.

"I swear I didn't. Father Josef told me."

"Another lie."

"Why would he tell you about this place?" Bruno asked, annoyingly tapping his index finger on the table.

"I was in a bar last night; I overheard some people talking."

"About what exactly?"

"Romano and Stefano's bitch of a daughter." he moved his eyes to Mia, who, for some reason, dared to look at the priest right into his face.

Despite her silence, the mention of Stefano rose the courage in her. I figured it reminded her of a time she was helpless, and also a time she had had to save herself.

"They said Stefano hired them to shoot you and abduct her." He said it like a narration, like something from a book, but also like he wanted me to know I owed him something for it.

"So, you told Father Jose about it?"

"I didn't know anyone else, and I knew he sees all of you often."

"You didn't hear it in a bar." Bruno laughed without humor, lighting yet another cigarette. "Those things will kill you." he stared at him over the smoke, rubbing the side of his nose with his thumb knuckles of the same hand that held the cigarette.

Bruno smoked this much when he was going through emotional upheavals he didn't know how to handle. It was his way of coping. That is how I knew he wasn't okay.

"I'm not afraid of death, Father Mario. And you haven't been honest with us." his voice was mocking when he said it.

"I've told you the truth," Bruno shook his head, going to stand by the window, with his back to us.

"It wasn't a bar. Everyone in this room except for Bella knows that."Bruno had a way of looking at someone like he could see through them. It was the intensity in his green eyes that eventually broke some. He had them convenience; he could tell they were lying.

'It wasn't exactly a bar per se." The priest defended in an almost slurring voice.

"We pay attention to details, father. What exactly was it, and where is it?"

The priest cleared his throat, moving his eyes anxiously, a flush of shame, or maybe it was embarrassment spread across his face. It was an ugly look on his face.

"You may also tell us what you want in return when you're at it," I added, and his face abruptly settled in mine. "You want something from us, no?" he flushed again. "You're not philanthropic enough to come all this way without expecting something in return."

That statement seemed to anger him, which meant I was right on the money.

"It was a strip club."

"What kind?" Bruno asked solemnly, coming to stand at the edge of the table.

"What do you mean what kind?"

"Private or common?"

"What the hell difference does it make?" He was beginning to get angry. I remembered an angry Mario in our teenage-age meant he was going to play a dirty plank on an unsuspecting victim. I wondered what his angry adult reacted to the same.

"Do you pay money for a private show in this club?"

"I'm not judging you, I've paid for my share of private shows." Bruno chuckled, laughing at himself, but the sound was harrowing.

"Yes, I pay." We nodded. "Nothing to be ashamed of, father, being a priest doesn't mean you cease to be human with urges like the rest of us, although I've always wondered why you became one."  It wasn't exactly a question, but I could see him struggling to come up with a perfect explanation for Bruno.

"Where is this club?"

"Why do you need to know that?' The surprise on my face must have been comical because I heard and felt Mia chuckling on my back, her head nestling comfortably on my shoulder blade.

"Why do you think we asked you what kind of club it was, for fun?"

"I think the good priest lied about something else," Devonni added brusquely, both his hands on his package, his untrusting eyes fixed on the priest.

"I think the club he speaks off peddles either young boys or girls." I head Mia's breath hitch, Bruno's angry face looked like a god about to pass the harshest judgment on one of his subjects.

"I guess raping a twelve-year-old wasn't enough, Father,"  I said, staring at his face. There was a suspicious sheen on his eyes like he was about to cry.

"I was eighteen; it was a mistake."

"Only a rapist would think rape is a mistake."

"God forgives our past,  washes us clean again to be worthy of him."

It was a ridiculous thing to both hear and say.

"This, this right here," Bruno  said loudly, pointing the butt of the cigarette at the priest "Is the reason I tell you often I don't believe in God."