Impossible Odds: A Mafia Romance (The Five Families Book 4)

by Jill Ramsower

  It was amazing how one bit of new information changed your perspective on everything. My mother’s memory was the one thing that remained unblemished. Her lie was never meant to hurt me. She could never have known things would end for her the way they had. She was one of those gentle spirits who couldn’t have hurt someone if her life depended on it, and Naz had killed her. She’d been nothing more than collateral damage.

  The day she died, I came home from school to find the estate in flames, surrounded by the local police. I raced through the crowd calling for my mother until the cook spotted me and held me firmly in her arms. She’d been at the market when it happened. As far as she could tell, no one in the house had made it out alive.

  I wept inconsolably. She tried to comfort me, but life as I knew it was over. I may have only been ten, but I’d heard stories about the corrupt homes that children were sent to when their parents died. I refused to accept that fate. As the tornadic flames whirled and danced, greedily consuming my childhood, I gathered my courage. When only crackling embers and smoke remained, I slipped away from the authorities and started my life on the streets.

  For two years, I fought for my survival every day. It wasn’t pretty, especially at first, but I learned quickly and was resourceful. When Naz found me, I was entrenched in an illegal fight club where I brawled with other teens for money. I was savage. Brutal. Making money and earning respect from some of the toughest men in the business.

  The day he came to the warehouse, men who I saw as kings began to whisper and sweat. Someone explained how Nazario Vargas, or El Zar as they called him, was the boss of bosses—more powerful than any man I’d known.

  He was drawn to me almost immediately, asking me questions and wanting to see me fight. I assumed he was interested in my skill and the chance to bring in young talent and train me to his liking. I believed what I wanted to believe because it was easier than questioning his motives. I wanted to go with him and breathe easily for a change. Life with Naz promised to be far superior to what I’d had on the streets.

  Now that I was finally analyzing the truth of what had happened, his motives were opaque at best. Most men at his stage in life didn’t adopt kids off the street out of the kindness of their hearts. Was it his way of twisting the blade into my father’s back even further? Or was he attempting to ensure I never tried to reclaim my father’s throne?

  Did it matter either way?

  The past couldn’t be changed. He’d equipped me to succeed in life and made me a wealthy man at a young age. There was no way to guess where my life would be had my mother not been killed or had Naz not rescued me from the streets. A game of what-ifs was always a losing battle.

  I needed to focus on work before my emotions carried me away and I did something I’d regret. It was probably time to check in with Santino and make sure all was well back home. He was my right-hand and one of the only people I trusted with my life. When I had to leave town, he was my eyes and ears back home.

  I took out my phone and realized I’d missed a text from Giada an hour earlier. I’d been too wrapped up in my thoughts to remember I’d silenced my phone.

  This isn’t going to work. Please stay away from me.

  The text wasn’t entirely unexpected, but my already turbulent emotions magnified my response. My veins coursed with undiluted hostility at whoever had frightened her away. I’d seen the cameras at her place and knew there was a chance her family would figure out who I was. The message had to have resulted from their interference.

  Perhaps they didn’t know who I was but had interfered anyway. The only person who could have identified me was Matteo De Luca, as far as I knew, and he was a part of a separate mafia family. We had believed the families were highly independent of one another, but they might share more information than we anticipated.

  I began to regret leaving the cameras functional, but I’d done it for two reasons. The first being the chance of identification was so slim. The second was a byproduct of my own weakness. The pathetic part of me that had hoped they’d discover me and force sense into her.

  I wanted to grab that part of me by the throat and rip out its jugular.

  It took several calming breaths before the chaos in my mind settled. I needed to see things logically. Rationally. I needed to take her withdrawal as a sign and move forward with the plan without deviation, leaving Giada in peace. However, the selfish, vile part of me that knew no mercy reared and bucked against its bridle. He wanted Giada, regardless of the consequences. That cancerous voice inside me whispered seductively that I could keep her safe—that she wanted me, regardless of what her family may have told her.

  It should have been her choice to make, not theirs.

  I teetered on a precipice. A knife’s edge between redemption and damnation—walk away and save her or drag her down with me on my hellish descent.

  I had no pictures of my mother, so her image had faded in my mind’s eye. Sometimes, I intentionally pushed aside thoughts of her so she wouldn’t know the wretched things I’d done. But other times—times like these—her presence was too hard to fight off. Her memory reminded me how the underworld I now called my own had been the cause of her untimely death.

  I didn’t want that for Giada.

  But isn’t life about free will? The mutinous voice of self-interest hissed inside my head. Shouldn’t it be Giada’s choice and not yours or her family’s?

  Fuck. It was hard to argue with that logic, which presented a third option to consider. I could go to Giada one last time and see if walking away was truly her choice.

  The soulless creature that lived in the darkest parts of me leaped at the opportunity. One more chance to touch her. To taste her.

  I told myself it was best to leave it up to her because I didn’t want to admit the truth. I was too weak to do the right thing. To walk away and never contact her again.

  No matter the warnings, I would seek her out and let her decide both our fates.

  ***

  The next day, she had a guard with her when she left her apartment. I followed them to a nail salon and observed through the plate glass windows as her escort stationed himself in the front waiting area. I walked around to the back of the building, locating a rear entry and finding a man outside smoking with the salon door propped open. I didn’t give him time to make a sound. With practiced speed, I looped my arm around his throat and held him in a chokehold until he passed out. He’d be fine when he woke up, and I’d be long gone.

  Slipping inside the salon, I navigated my way to the pedicure stations where Giada sat alone, her feet in a small tub of water and eyes glued to her phone. She was cut off from view of the front entry by a half wall and decorative beads strung from the ceiling. The chair next to her was unoccupied, so I walked over as if I belonged there and took a seat.

  “I didn’t think you were the type to let others dictate your life.”

  She gasped and nearly dropped her phone into the tub of water. “You’re here.” Her eyes were wide with shock, and I detected an undercurrent of relief in her whispered response. Had I imagined it? Or was she truly pleased to see me?

  “I told you I’d come before I left town. At the time, that didn’t seem to be a problem.” My eyes cut over to the front of the salon where her escort waited for her.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” she hissed, growing more agitated. “My family knows who you are, and they’ll hurt you if they find you here.”

  “I’m not worried about them.”

  “Well, I am. I’m worried about everything. They told me you’re a part of a cartel. I don’t want me or my family to be in danger.”

  Exactly as I’d suspected. Her text had nothing to do with her feelings for me and everything to do with the garbage her family had fed her. As if they were saints. Bullshit.

  “Have I hurt you in any way?” I demanded.

  A crease formed between her brows. “No, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t a danger to me.” Her statement was fraught with unc
ertainty. I was gaining ground.

  “If you truly believed I was dangerous, you never would have let me touch you. I gave you opportunities to walk away, but you didn’t. You wanted me just as much as I wanted you. Your family’s prejudices shouldn’t get in the way of that.”

  “You warned me away yourself. I can’t just ignore that.” She shook her head, chewing on her bottom lip.

  I pulled back and allowed a curtain of frigid air to fall between us. I should have let her pull away—accepted her retreat and moved on with my original plan—but I couldn’t. I had to make one last effort to convince her not to run.

  “The woman who approached me in the casino and who came on my fingers in a nightclub closet wouldn’t let anyone tell her what she wanted or who she could see. If that’s truly who you are, and you’re brave enough to trust yourself, you know my number. I’m in town two more days.” I stood and started to leave.

  The challenge was harsh, but I was a man used to getting my way. And besides, there was more strength in her pinky finger than in her entire family. She just hadn’t figured that out yet.

  “What does that mean?” Giada asked, grasping my wrist, then releasing me when she realized what she’d done.

  “It means I want you to come with me.”

  “To stay with you? Like a vacation?”

  “If that’s what you want—stay as long as you like. I’m as unsettled by whatever this is between us as you are, but I know I’m not ready to give you up yet. I won’t force you, but I’ll ask that you reconsider. To listen to your instincts and not let someone else dictate your life.”

  “This is crazy. I hardly know you.”

  “It is whatever you want to label it, but the choice is yours.” I slipped out the back as quietly as I’d entered. All I could do now was wait.

  Chapter 11

  Giada

  I sat through the rest of my pedicure in stunned silence. Primo wanted me to go with him. To disregard all my family’s warnings and risk my life to be with him. I shouldn’t even consider it, yet my heart was threatening to burst from my chest, drowning my bloodstream with liquid elation.

  I may have barely known him, but he’d seen the worst side of me—my brashness and mischievous tendencies—and he still wanted me. Primo sparked something inside me no other man had. Would it be so terrible to see where that spark took me? I could always change my mind if I went with him and decided he wasn’t the man I thought he was.

  The prospects filled me with nervous energy until I could hardly sit still. Ignoring the protests of my bewildered nail technician, I slipped from the chair the moment she finished polishing my nails and headed to the front counter to pay.

  “You finally done?” Filip had not been thrilled with his assignment. He’d been all too happy to volunteer himself for a slumber party, but shadowing me around town was a different matter. From the minute he arrived at my door that morning, he’d been surly and uncommunicative.

  “You think women are just buffed and polished naturally? It takes time and money to look like this.” I handed my cash over to the receptionist and thanked her before turning for the door.

  “You don’t want to hear what I think,” Filip grumbled.

  I ground to a halt and glared at him. “Oh, I’d love to hear this. What exactly is it that you think about women’s appearances?”

  A chilling shift overcame Filip, his playboy façade melting away and leaving in its place something unquestionably more ruthless. More intense and complex than I had ever imagined him capable of.

  He prowled forward, closing the distance between us. “I think the only red a woman needs on her body is the flush on her skin from a man’s capable hand. No clothes. No makeup. No pretenses. Just a blindfold and complete submission. The rest of this bullshit”—he flicked his head toward the salon—“is for you guys, not us.”

  Well, I’ll be damned. Filip’s got some bite.

  I wasn’t sure I could fathom being subservient, but I had to admit, the way he presented it made me wish I could. Young Filip wasn’t so different from his brother as I’d thought. He’d initially seemed like a naïve kid compared to the stoic, self-possessed Matteo.

  I stood corrected.

  Clearing my throat, I asked, “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-eight. Now, come on. It’s time to get you home. I have other shit to do.” He started toward the car, leaving me no choice but to follow.

  “You seemed younger,” I called after him.

  He smirked back at me. “I’ve been around long enough.”

  Not long enough to know he should have kept his eyes on me at all times. I liked Filip and was now more than a smidge curious about him, but he’d slipped up on the job. Primo had gotten past their defenses, and now, I had a decision to make.

  I went home and tried to think, got frustrated, then actively avoided thinking. Thursday night bled into Friday night, and I still had no answers. My arguments with myself bordered on schizophrenic, and I began to worry about when exactly Primo was leaving. He said I had two days, but that was rather vague. It could mean he was leaving anytime from Friday through Sunday.

  If he’d been anyone else, I would have been confident I could take a flight out to meet him regardless of when he left, but Primo was different. I was fairly certain his offer was finite. If I wasn’t on that plane with him when he left, there would be no second chances.

  Time was slipping away from me, but I was torn. I wanted him, but my family’s warnings weren’t unfounded. Would I be making a horrible mistake if I went? Would I resent my family forever if I didn’t?

  By Saturday evening, I was so sick of my own vacillating thoughts that I wished someone would just put a bullet in my brain and put me out of my misery. I’d reached an impasse. The only way I could see moving forward was to flip a coin or something equally as arbitrary. I needed something to tip the scales, and my cousin was the perfect person to help me. She didn’t know it, but she was about to make the decision of a lifetime for me.

  Saturday evening, I curled up on my sofa with my phone and dialed Alessia.

  “Hey, G. What’s up?” she answered cheerily.

  “You know how you’re always telling me I should think about going to school or volunteering or something?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and I’m really interested in photography.”

  “Oh, Giada! I think that would be a great field for you.”

  “Hold up, there’s more. The thing is, the stuff that interests me the most is the amazing shots of ocean life—whales and dolphins and coral reefs. I think that could be my calling.” I had worked hard to craft a proposed career that suited my needs—it had to be something remotely believable with an element of obvious danger. She already knew I loved the beach, and photography wasn’t an unreasonable stretch in the realm of my interests. In actuality, beneath the guise of my metaphor, we were talking about a relationship with Primo, but she would never know that, at least not until it was too late.

  “Ummm … well, it’s definitely an exciting career path. It would mean a lot of travel—you can’t exactly take pictures of those things here—and wouldn’t it be kind of dangerous too? I certainly never expected something like that from you.” Her words floundered, but her tone remained positive.

  “It encompasses everything that interests me, and I think it could be my one great passion in life. But like you said, there are drawbacks. I know my parents will hate the idea, and there are definite dangers.”

  “You can’t always make them happy. I think if it’s your passion, you have to take the risk. Not everyone is able to find something in their lives that they live and breathe for. If you think this could be it for you, I think you should give it a try.” As she spoke, her voice grew stronger, reinforced with conviction.

  I grinned broadly. “Thanks, Al. I knew I could count on you to understand.”

  It was misleading to trick her like that, but I needed an unbiased
opinion. I realized after hearing her reaction that I’d been leaning toward taking the risk and just needed her unwitting support to reinforce my gut reaction. Yes, being with Primo might be dangerous, but I would always regret not taking that chance. I’d never been the play-it-safe kind of girl, so there was no point in being cautious now.

  I ended my conversation with Alessia and pulled up my text thread with Primo.

  Me: I want to come with you. I held my breath, my finger hovering over the phone before I finally hit send.

  Within seconds, the conversation dots popped up.

  Primo: That’s more like it.

  Primo: Can you get out of your apartment alone?

  Me: I think so.

  Primo: Meet me at the Applejack diner around the corner from your building in an hour.

  Me: See you then.

  Nervous energy pulsated beneath my ribs, vibrating out into my extremities and making my head dangerously dizzy. I had one hour to pack my things for a trip of unknown duration to a mystery location with a man I hardly knew.

  I had to be insane.

  Please, sweet baby Jesus, don’t let me live to regret this decision.

  I crossed myself and leaped from the couch to pack. I assumed we were going to Mexico, so I grabbed my passport and a slew of beach attire, then threw in some slacks and cardigans just in case. I initially set out enough clothes for a month-long hiatus but put most of it back when I decided I didn’t want to show up with sixteen suitcases.

  It might have looked presumptive.

  I whittled my wardrobe down to the necessities—I could buy whatever else I needed once I was there. It was tight, but I got it all in one suitcase. Before I lugged it out into the living room, I plopped on the bed and contemplated how I could get out without alerting whoever was monitoring my security cameras. I stared at my doorway for several minutes before I gave up.

  Fuck it. I’ll be gone before they can do anything about it.

  I wheeled my suitcase out the front door and into the elevator, eager to get to Primo. When I arrived at the diner, he was standing out front, leaning against a black Mercedes. His eyes sparked with possessive pride, making my heart do its impression of a Cirque du Soleil performer.