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My laughter quickly dies though when my father stares at her.
His gaze is so intense and threatening she immediately slinks back down in her chair, appearing to come out of her haze momentarily. “I'm so sorry, mio amore. I'll never embarrass you in front of your son or anyone else again.”
He reaches over and kisses her hand. “You better not, or else. I'll have Marlene bring you more wine.”
Since I'm not drinking any of mine, I hand her my glass.
“Thank you,” she whispers before she closes her eyes and downs it.
That's when I notice a few faded track marks on her arm. They would hardly be noticeable to the untrained eye, but growing up with a mother who was an addict for the first eleven years of my life made me aware of the signs.
Good grief, this girl is a damn heroin addict.
It's obvious he doesn't want her to use anymore. Just like it's obvious why she keeps downing wine like it's water. I wish I never handed her my glass now.
DeLuca claps his hands. “Okay, let's talk business.”