CHAPTER EIGHTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHTY-SEVEN
ELENA

"What trial?" I repeated when he did not respond to my initial question.

"It's complicated."

"Oh, come on—" I gestured with my hands in frustration. "Alexander, I witnessed you and your brother having what seemed like a lengthy sparring match in your living room. This is not a simple problem by any stretch, so don't make it out as such."

He stood there, looking at me, and it was clear he was puzzled.

"It's our family business," he spoke quietly.

"I'm in your life now," I told him, moving in until we were inches apart. "That makes it my business as well. You can't continue to push me aside because of family issues, Alexander. Partners don't do this."

"Elena..."

"No." I waved my hand in his direction, holding him back from spinning some excuse. "I'm not asking you to disclose confidential information or violate a critical Moretti protocol. I simply need you to have enough faith in me to be truthful with me as to why you do not like your brother. What we witnessed here? It was not simply because Margaret was adopted. It was about far more than this."

Alexander ruffled his hair with his hands, such that it stuck up in a manner certain to surprise his stylist. It was strangely pleasant seeing him disheveled and more natural-looking in this state.

"Do you truly wish to know?" he inquired finally.

"I simply wish to know."

He pulled open his bar and filled a large glass with what seemed like decent whiskey. He invited me into it, but I declined. I did not desire a drink because my head would have gotten fuzzy during this conversation.

"Marco testified against the family in a trial five years ago", Alexander continued, avoiding my eye. "He assisted the attorneys in convicting a few of our father's friends."

I blinked in surprise. I wasn't anticipating this. "He spoke out against the mafia?"

"Yes, the others in our circle." Alexander sipped his whiskey. "The ones who had faith in him. The ones who considered him family."

"Why?"

"Isn't that the question?" Alexander laughed, his laugh one of sorrow. "Marco said he was attempting to legalize us. He informed me that the elimination of a few of the older leaders would be beneficial for the family's change."

I spent time getting this information. "Did you disagree?"

"I believed there were better approaches by which the change should be implemented. Approaches that would not damage the individuals who had been with us for many years. Alexander squeezed his glass tightly. "I was attempting the transformation slowly and internally, trying to lead us in a new direction, one away from criminality. Marco opted to ruin everything."

"Did it work? His way?"

Alexander was silent for a moment. "Some might answer in the affirmative. Government pressure accelerated our actual business strategies. But at a cost."

"What cost?"

"Trust, respect, family ties." Alexander met my eye. "Marco's testimony destroyed relationships we had spent a decade building. Then, once we had settled down and were repairing the damage, he vanished. He left the repairing of what he destroyed in my hands."

I was able to hear the underlying anguish in the anger, the anguish of a person who had been left behind by the one person he was supposed to be cared for. I was also able to view the other side, the difficult predicament Marco was in.

"Alexander," I ventured slowly, "Did it ever occur to you that Marco might have wished to assist the family? That he perceived testifying as the only path for saving all of you from a future of either death or prison?"

He considered it, "Maybe, but it doesn't make it acceptable."

"Doesn’t it? Suppose he was attempting to protect you?"

"He chose the law over family, Elena. He chose strangers over his own."

I stepped in closer because I sensed the deep sadness in his voice. "Or perhaps he discovered an alternative way of loving the same family we both wished to assist."

Alexander stared at me as if I were talking in a foreign language. "How can you stand up for him? You don't know the man."

"I'm not saying he's right. I'm simply attempting to know what he's feeling. There's a distinction." I raised my hand and placed it on his cheek, sensing the tension radiating from him.
"Alexander, you've worked for years building honest businesses, avoiding rotten people, and making the Moretti name a good one. Am I correct?"

"Yes"

"What if Marco was attempting the same, but approached it from a different angle? What if he was convinced the quickest way for his family to get out of this predicament was through collaboration with the police?"

Alexander remained silent for sometime, gazing at his whiskey as if he might be able to discover answers in it. When he did speak, he spoke more kindly.

"I didn't think in this manner"

"Perhaps you should." I stepped a little closer, close enough to sense the heat from his body.
"I'm not saying he was wrong or right. I'm saying perhaps his motive was not as selfish as you perceive."

Alexander set his glass aside and drew me in, my head on his shoulders. "How do you always know what to say?"

"I do have a natural flair," I noted, hugging his waist with my arms. "And I don’t truly dislike your brother, so I can view the circumstances fairly."

"I don't hate him," Alexander spoke softly. "I have simply been angry for a long while, and I don't know how it can be stopped."

"Perhaps you do not need to stop being angry, but rather ask yourself if winning or the desire to be the best is more worthwhile than having your brother with you."

Alexander leaned back and gazed at me, his expression gentle with what appeared to be gratitude. "I love you," he told me simply.

"I love you, too," I told him. "Even when you are stubborn about family issues."

He leaned towards me and kissed me, and I tasted whiskey on his lips.
Some of the strain relaxed from his shoulders as he eased into the kiss.
He placed his hands on my face, and his thumbs brushed over my cheekbones as he kissed me once more.

For the second time tonight, when things were about to get interesting, we got interrupted as Alexander's phone rang.

"Building security," he repeated, gazing at the caller ID in a puzzled way. "They don't phone this late unless—"

He answered the phone after two rings. "What's wrong?"

I had heard a worried-sounding voice, but did not make out the words.
Alexander's expression shifted from puzzled to apprehensive, and lastly, it was full of fear.

"What sort of situation?" he inquired.

The opposing side spoke a lot once more. Alexander's face lost color.

"We'll be coming down shortly," he replied.

"What's wrong?" I inquired, sensing my heart start to beat faster. Alexander's fingers trembled slightly as they rested on the bar table. "Marco slumped in front of the penthouse. The paramedics are on the way, but he insists he wants to speak with me."