Mass usually lasted an hour, but today’s homily must have been personal to Father Jacoby because he’d been rambling for nearly thirty minutes. Normally, he gave us a quick fifteen-minute pep talk of a sermon and sent us on our way, but the issue of immigrant rights had apparently lit a fire under him. I’d spent the past half hour lost in my own thoughts.
Camilla eyed me curiously. “It’s called Catholicism. Look it up.” Someone listening in might have thought Cam was rude, but I was well acquainted with her brand of dry humor.
I snorted a laugh, covering my mouth and glancing warily at my mother, who had thankfully not noticed the commotion. Deciding to push my luck, I leaned in and continued our banter. “I’m familiar. Twelve years of Catholic school was plenty of education on the subject.”
“Apparently not if you think this is more than ritual. Maybe you needed to pay attention better in school.”
“I paid attention just fine. Just because I wasn’t the principal’s lapdog didn’t mean I wasn’t a good student.” I used to tease Camilla endlessly about being a Goody Two-shoes because she was always helping in the principal’s office.
“Exactly what I mean.” Cam turned and glared at me. “You needed to pay better attention.”
My forehead scrunched in confusion. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
She shook her head. “Just that if you think we’re all here for some kumbaya betterment of our souls, you’re the only one suffering a delusion. Church is about discipline and order—keeping the masses in line and on a certain path—not spiritual growth and enlightenment. I’m pretty sure Catholic guilt never helped anyone grow.”
“Well, that sounds rather jaded if you ask me.”
She huffed out a laugh. “Don’t I know it.”
I peered at my sister out of the corner of my eye, but she kept her gaze fixed on the dais ahead. She’d always been a little odd, at least from my perspective, but I’d never given it much thought. She had her friends growing up, and I’d had mine. Even though we were only a year apart in school, our circles rarely overlapped. Had something gone on during high school that I’d been unaware of, or was my middle sister just being dramatic?
The middle of church was hardly the place to hash it out. I made a mental note to bring it up again later and did a silent cheer when we all stood at the close of the homily.
After church, I had a quick lunch with my parents and excused myself for some retail therapy. I couldn’t stop thinking about my mystery casino man, so what better way to distract myself than clothes? Nothing like getting lost in a Nordstrom to take a girl’s mind off her worries.
Three hours later and my protesting feet had brought me back home for a rest. I felt somewhat better, but my thoughts never settled. I didn’t want to tell anyone what had happened, but as an external processor, I needed to talk through my problems before I went crazy. Things festered and stewed inside me until I said them out loud and could discuss them with another person. I’d often debated whether that quality was a gift or a curse, but I’d never reached a concrete conclusion. It was good to know how I functioned best, but I wasn’t crazy about needing to tell people my problems to work through them.
Regardless of the merits, I needed to spill. Digging my phone out of my purse, I sent Alessia a text, setting up a lunch date for the following day. Once the arrangements were made and relief was in sight, my anxiety eased.
Wine helped, too.
Three glasses in, and I was sure I could handle anything.
***
“You know how back in May you told me all about meeting Luca and how you learned he was in the mafia and you made me promise not to tell anyone?” We’d been at lunch all of five minutes when I hit Alessia with my confession.
Her sandwich stopped its momentum toward her mouth, and her eyes flicked up to mine. “Oh shit, G, what have you gotten yourself into now?”
“Hey! That’s not fair. You act like I’m some kind of trouble magnet. I wasn’t the one who got kidnapped a few months ago.”
“Okay, you’re right,” she conceded, lifting a hand to calm me down. “Although, you do have a history of far more drama than I do but go on.”
I glared, brow raised. “Are you done?”
She motioned for me to continue.
“I need you to keep an open mind. This may sound a little crazy, but it’s not as bad as you might initially think. So … back on our last night in Vegas a couple of weeks ago, I met a guy.”
“You met a guy? When? We were together the whole time.”
“It was quick, just a short conversation on my way back from the restroom before dinner on the last night. I approached him, and we talked briefly. It wasn’t worth mentioning when I got back to the table because I’d never see the guy again. Except …”
“Except?” Her eyes rounded.
“The other night at the club, he showed up.” I bit my lip, waiting for her to freak out.
“Holy cow, that’s crazy! What a coincidence that you’d see him again. Did you two talk?”
“Al, you’re not getting it. It wasn’t a chance encounter. He somehow found out who I was and tracked me down. We didn’t run into each other, he found me.” There was no way I was admitting that he’d tracked me down because I’d stolen from him. Leaving that tidbit out made him look that much more dangerous, but it couldn’t be helped.
She stopped breathing. “Oh, shit.”
“Now, before you freak, try not to get carried away. I don’t think he’s dangerous. I admit, him finding me was a surprise and maybe a tad stalker-ish, but he’s not like some weirdo off the street.”
“Not dangerous? Giada, what the actual fuck? How did he find you? Did you give him your name or number?”
My gaze dropped to my plate, my appetite suddenly drying up. “No, I didn’t. I’m not sure how he found me. I hadn’t actually thought that part through.” I’d been so damn caught up with the fact he had found me and wondering what might happen next that I’d forgotten to question how he’d found me.
“Have you called the police? Do you even know his name to report him? Wait … you’re not expecting me to keep this a secret, are you?” She gaped at me as if I’d told her I wanted to shave my head and move to a monastery.
My spine stiffened. “No, you wait. Don’t you remember—you and Luca and the mafia? You came to me with your secret, and I kept my mouth shut. I expect you to do the same.”
Her shoulders sagged, and she sighed. “I don’t know, G. This seems so much more dangerous. This guy sounds like a stalker. Do you know anything about him?”
“No, but what I do know is I had the most erotic moment of my life at the club with him two nights ago. I don’t want to call the cops on him.”
“You fucked him? In the club?” she whisper-yelled.
I was far from prudish, but answering her questions had me squirming in my seat. “Not exactly. He fingered me, and it was insanely hot.”
“So while we were worried sick looking for you, you were off in … the bathroom?”
“Supply closet.”
“The supply closet … getting freaky with your stalker?”
I shrugged. “Basically.”
She dropped her head into her hands for a second before meeting my wary gaze again. “G, you don’t know this man. Tracking down someone like that isn’t normal. He may not have hurt you yet, but that doesn’t mean he won’t. You need to call the police or tell your dad.”
“You know we don’t call the police, not with our family, and there’s no way I’m telling my dad. Aside from not wanting him to know my business, I truly don’t think I’m in danger. You remember when you met Luca? You had a gut feeling he wouldn’t hurt you. Even though you were scared, you felt like you could trust him. I know this all sounds fucked up, but this guy could be my Luca.” I infused my gaze with pleading, hoping she’d understand.
Worry lines creased her forehead, and she gnawed on her bottom lip. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I know, but I need you to trust me on this. Hell, I might never even hear from him again.”
“I can’t say I would be disappointed,” she grumbled.
I grinned. “Thanks, Al. I wanted you to know what was going on, and saying it out loud is helping me sort it all in my head.”
“This helped?” She looked at me dubiously.
“It did, actually. Believe it or not, I do have some semblance of self-preservation and had worried about whether I should tell Dad. Now that I’ve talked it through with you, I’m certain I don’t want Dad sending someone out to track him down. This man isn’t going to hurt me, at least, not in a bad way.” My cheeks heated.
“Oh, Jesus. I do not want to know.” She shook her head, then her gaze softened as she peered back at me. “You’re a little crazy, you know that?”
“I do, but I hope that doesn’t change anything between us.” It had always worried me that Alessia would see my more unscrupulous side and flinch away in horror.
She only smirked and placed her hand over mine. “Never. You’re the yin to my yang. The fact that we’re so different is what makes us such a great team.”
“Oh, hell. You’re gonna make me cry.” I wiped at an invisible tear, and we burst into giggles.
“Okay, now that the ugly part’s over with,” Alessia added, “it’s time to tell me what this man candy looks like. I want to know whatever I can about the man who has the unflappable Giada squirming in her seat.”
We spent the next half hour going over my mystery man in critical detail, from his devastating good looks to his sinfully talented fingers. By the time I got home, I was so wound up that it took two rounds with my magic wand to satisfy the ache. After a pasta dinner with a glass of wine, I was positively blissed out until a knock sounded on my apartment door.
Panic launched me into action. I jumped off the couch but froze in the middle of my living room, unsure what to do. My first instinct was to go to the door and use the peephole to see who was there, but then I reminded myself that I was in pajama pants and a stained camisole—hardly an alluring wardrobe choice if my mystery man had resurfaced.
If you don’t answer soon, whoever is there will leave.
Okay! I fumbled to the door and peeked at my visitor, my heart dancing its way into my throat before being doused in a cool bucket of icy suspicion. I backed away and glared silently. What the hell was going on?
“Open the door, Giada. We can see you moving around in there,” Maria called out in exasperation.
I would have ignored her if I didn’t think she’d break down my door just to piss me off. I liked my cousin well enough, but she was a little intense.
“What are you doing here?” I asked as I opened the door, positioning myself to bar her entry and trying to play it cool when I discovered she wasn’t alone. “Who’s this?”
“You remember Filip? He’s Matteo’s brother. Let us in; we’re here to install some cameras.”
Filip winked, and I tried not to get distracted.
Matteo was Maria’s husband and the boss of one of the Five Families. I didn’t know his family well since they hadn’t been married long, but he seemed like a decent guy. He put up with Maria, so that was something. If Matteo was a Rottweiler, Filip was the puppy version—cute and playful but clearly a predator in training.
My mind raced with questions. Dad and Uncle Enzo had been tense lately—did whatever was bothering them have Matteo upping security as well? Or more likely, whatever Matteo had told Maria had caused her to crack down on surveillance. Either way, I wasn’t letting them leave without answers.
“What’s going on? Why would I need cameras at my apartment?” I opened the door and allowed them inside.
“Does it matter? We’re going to install them whether you want them or not.” She dropped a duffel bag of equipment on the coffee table and started examining the area above my front door.
“You have a stepladder?” Filip asked.
“What? Yeah, there in the hall closet.” I turned back to Maria. “What’s going on? I’m not leaving you alone until you tell me what this is all about.”
She dropped her head back, then spun around to glare at me. “You want to know what this is about? Fine. I had a little chat with Alessia earlier. She’s worried about you, that’s it.”
My jaw dropped to the floor. “That rat. She promised she wouldn’t tell anyone.”
Maria just rolled her eyes. “She said you’d say that. Look, she didn’t tell your dad, and I’m not planning to either even though I know I should. We’re just going to install some cameras and keep an eye on things. No harm, no foul, so don’t get bent out of shape.”
“It’s not the cameras I care about. It was my personal business she shared, and she had no right to say anything.” Alessia was only trying to protect me, but I couldn’t help my anger.
“If it’s any consolation”—Filip set down the stepladder and smirked—“I have no clue what kind of trouble you’ve gotten into, although I’m seriously curious. In fact, if you want someone to keep an eye on her, Maria, I’m happy to help. This couch looks plenty comfy. I can just crash here.” His eyes glinted with mischief. He was giving me a hard time, but I was not in the mood.
“Absolutely. Not,” I ground out, crossing my arms.
Maria huffed out a laugh. “Filip, you get yourself in enough trouble of your own. I don’t need you making things worse.”
He shrugged impishly. “Suit yourself, but the offer stands.”
“I can’t believe this,” I said to the ceiling. “One camera on the front door, and that’s it. Do I need to worry about who’ll be watching the video feed? I’m not interested in being anyone’s entertainment.”
“Matteo has a security team. The feed will be streamed to them, but I’ll make sure only the door is in view. I’m also installing a camera in the hallway and one on the elevator. They’re wireless, so it shouldn’t take long.”
“Fine,” I grumbled. “But you can tell Al she’s on my shit list.” I stormed back into my bedroom and slammed the door.
Chapter 7
Giada
By Tuesday morning, I was so sick of thinking about the mystery man that I wished he would show up just so I could give him a piece of my mind. He said he’d be in touch, and now it was three days later without a word. Had he changed his mind and left town? I wouldn’t have expected a normal guy to necessarily text right away, but the uncertain nature of the situation made me more on edge about hearing from him.
I spent the morning doing yoga to help calm me down. Alessia ran and Maria was kick-ass at martial arts, but I was a little more zen with my exercise. I’d been doing yoga since my teens—one of the few suggestions from my mother that had actually paid off. Not only was it a great workout but I always felt more centered after a sweaty session of hot yoga.
From there, I had lunch with a friend, then went home to clean up before making the drive out to my parents’ house for our weekly family dinner. I hadn’t wanted to sit around in my apartment thinking, so I arrived at the house early. Mom was still at a church committee meeting, but I found Lucy in the kitchen working on dinner. She was mostly a housekeeper but cooked for Mom occasionally.
“Hey, Lucy! What’s on the menu for tonight?” I gave the sweet older woman a hug and peeked into her simmering pot.
“You’re here early, mija. What a lovely surprise. You can help me clean up.” She grinned impishly. “I made Sopa de albondigas—meatball soup. The hard part’s done; it just has to cook now.” Lucy was friendly with everyone, but she took a special liking to me. I was pretty sure it was because I was the shortest person in the family and, therefore, the only one who didn’t tower over her four-foot-ten frame. She’d only come to work for my parents three years ago, not long after I’d moved out, but she quickly came to feel like part of the family.
“I have nothing better to do, so I’m happy to help.” I collected a cutting board full of chopped remnants and swept them into
the sink. “I hope you didn’t put too many peppers in those meatballs. You know how picky Dad can be about spicey things.” Lucy was Hispanic, so it had been tricky to find dishes she made that Dad would eat.
“I don’t think so, but sometimes a spicy one sneaks in there. I’ll just have to hope he’s in a good mood.” She winked at me and started scrubbing the dishes in the sink. “You look extra pretty today, mija. Is there anything special going on?” The older woman glanced at me coyly, making me chuckle. She was always asking about my love life, telling me I needed to find a good man and settle down.
“Absolutely nothing, just felt like getting dolled up.” There may have been a little purpose in my Cosmo hair and makeup. I might not have seen my mystery man by the end of the day, but I liked knowing that if he did appear, he’d get a taste of what he’d been missing.
“Tú mama will be home soon.”
I only grunted in return.
“What? Did you two have a fight?” She paused her scrubbing and peered over at me.
“No, just the usual. We make each other a little crazy.”
“Ah.” She nodded. “That’s the way it’s supposed to be. It encourages young people to go out and get lives of their own. If we were all content to stay with our parents, we’d never leave. I never had kids of my own, but I know my sister and her daughter fought like cats until her daughter finally moved out. Then once they had their own space, things got better.”
“Well, I moved out years ago. It helped a little, but she still can’t help telling me what to do.”
“She just wants you to be happy.”
“I am happy. Or at least, I would be if she’d leave me alone.”
Lucy rinsed out the empty sink and took off her apron before looking at me sadly. “Are you? Do you truly believe you’re happy, mija?”
Suddenly everyone had an opinion about my life. What was the deal?
Impossible Odds: A Mafia Romance (The Five Families Book 4) Page 5
