by Cora Reilly
“If you’re meeting my husband anyway, then you could ask Dante how our marriage is going so far and if he’s satisfied with me,” I said in an overly sweet voice.
“Sometimes I think I wasn’t strict enough with you. Your insolence was much more endearing when you were a little girl,” he said affectionately. I stood and wrapped my arms around his middle. He pressed a kiss against my temple. I knew as Underboss Papà was almost as ruthless as Dante and probably had killed more men than I had fingers, but for me he’d always be the man who’d carried me on his shoulders when I was younger.
“Things are going well between Dante and me, don’t worry,” I said as I pulled back. “I think he’s still not over his first wife though.”
Papà exchanged a look with Mamma. “It took Fiore a long time to convince Dante to marry at all. I’m glad he chose you. Don’t push him.”
“Listen to your father, Valentina. Men don’t like pushy women.”
“I hear you convinced Dante to give you a job?” Papà asked.
“Don’t pretend you don’t already know everything about it. I bet half of the Outfit is already ranting about it.”
“What do you expect? A woman of your status isn’t supposed to work,” Mamma said.
“Some people think women aren’t supposed to interrupt their husbands either, and you do that all the time.”
Mamma huffed. “I don’t interrupt your father.”
“You don’t?” Papà said in mock surprise. Their marriage hadn’t always been for love. Like Dante and me, they’d married for convenience, but over time they’d grown fond of each other. When I saw them, it gave me new hope for my own marriage.
I couldn’t hold back a smile. “Dante doesn’t mind me working. I think he likes that I want to do something useful.”
“What could be more useful than raising beautiful children? When are we going to become grandparents?”
I sent Papà a pleading look, but he shrugged. “Fiore really wants an heir to his name. Dante has responsibilities. What if he got killed without having a son to inherit his title?”
“Don’t say that. Nobody’s going to get killed. I lost one husband already, I won’t lose a second,” I said desperately.
Papà patted my cheek. “Dante knows how to take care of himself, but what’s wrong with having children?”
“Nothing’s wrong with it. I want children, but not because it’s my duty to produce an heir. I want children because I want something to love and that loves me back unconditionally.” God, when had this conversation turned so horribly emotional?
“Val,” Papà said carefully. “Did Dante do something?”
I gave him a shaky smile, grateful for his concern but knowing it was useless. Even if Dante had done something and I told my father about it, there was nothing he could do. He wouldn’t go against his Capo, not even for me. “No, he’s a gentleman.” Outside of the bedroom, I added silently. Not that I minded. “He’s just really closed off. I feel lonely, but working will keep me busy, so that should make it better.”
“Give him time,” Papà said. I could tell he was getting increasingly uncomfortable with my emotionality. Why were Made Men cowards when it came to expressing feelings, but didn’t bat an eye when confronted with death? He glanced at his Rolex, then grimaced. “I really need to go.” He pressed a kiss against my temple before he bent down to give my mother a proper kiss. Then he was gone. Mamma patted the spot on the sofa beside her, and I plopped down with a sigh. “I really need cake right now.”
Mamma rang a bell and our maid entered the living room with a tray full of pastries and Italian macarons. I bet she’d been waiting in front of the door since I’d arrived. For as long as I could remember, she’d always been a bit too nosy. She gave me a quick smile, set the tray down and then disappeared again. I grabbed a delicacy made of marzipan, chocolate and puff pastry, and took a big bite. Mamma poured me coffee, never taking her eyes off me. “Careful with these. They are full of fat and calories. You have to make sure you take care of your body. Men don’t like plump women.”
I made a show out of finishing the rest of my pastry, then washed it down with coffee. “Maybe you should write a book about what men want, since you seem to know all about it.” I opened my eyes wide to lessen the impact of my snippy words.
Mamma shook her head before taking a pastry for herself. “Your father is right. We should have been stricter with you.”
“You were strict with Orazio and it didn’t help.”
“He’s a boy. They are all boisterous. And he’s really shaping up nicely. He said he’s even thinking about settling down.” I doubted that. He’d probably only said it to get my mother off his back. And given that he didn’t live in Chicago but helped keep our business in line in Detroit and Cleveland, our parents didn’t often get the chance to bother him. And he was a man, of course. Nobody cared if he slept with a new girl every night, as long as he didn’t tell them who he really was.
“I’ve never gone against your wishes, so I don’t know why you complain. After all, I married Dante because you wanted it.”
Mamma looked offended. “He’s the best catch we could hope for. Who wouldn’t marry a man like him?”
I drank my coffee, not bothering to reply. It was a rhetorical question anyway.
“Does Dante seek you out at night?”
I almost spit out what was in my mouth. “I’m not going to talk to you about that, Mamma.” My cheeks burned from embarrassment, and Mamma gave me a knowing smile.
I loved her, but she was the most infuriating woman on this planet.
* * *
Enzo picked me up in the SUV. Except for a bit of small talk, we didn’t speak during the short ride. When we drove past Bibiana’s street, I said, “Wait. Turn the corner. I want to pay Bibiana Bonello a visit.” I’d promised her I’d tell her how things between Dante and me had progressed. She’d hopefully be happy to see me.
Enzo didn’t argue. He steered the car toward Bibi’s house and parked at the curb. “Do you want me to wait?”
I hesitated. “If you don’t mind?”
Enzo shook his head. “That’s my job.” He reached behind his seat and pulled out a magazine about old-timers.
“It won’t take long,” I said even though Bibiana and I could spend hours chatting.
I climbed out of the car and strode toward the front door. I rang the bell, then waited. Nothing happened for a while, and I was about to return to the car when the door opened.
Tommaso stood in front of me. My eyes widened in surprise, then worry. “Hello, Tommaso,” I said, forcing my voice to be pleasant. “I hope I didn’t come at a bad time. I wanted to talk to Bibiana. Is she there?” Is she okay was the question that I really wanted to ask. Tommaso was sweaty, his skin red and his fly was still open. A feeling of dread cursed through me.
Tommaso bared his teeth in a wide smile. He took my hand in both of his. “She’ll be down in a moment. We have always time for Dante’s wife.”
I fought the urge to pull away. His skin was clammy with perspiration, and the thought that the reason for his rumpled appearance had something to do with what he’d been doing with Bibiana made me want to scrub my palms raw until no trace of him was left on me. “Bibiana, hurry up. Valentina Cavallaro is here,” Tommaso shouted. As if Bibiana didn’t know who I was.
I gingerly pulled my hands out of his grip.
“I hear you’re taking over the casino,” Tommaso said curiously, his small beetle eyes keen as they watched me.
“Did Raffaele tell you that?”
Tommaso guffawed. “He didn’t have to. Everyone’s talking about it. I wouldn’t allow Bibiana to work, but Dante has been trying to change things up in the Outfit for a while now, even before Fiore retired.”
I tried to figure out if I could construe his words as traitorous, but sadly they were only mildly critical. Nothing that would cause Dante to put a bullet in Tommaso’s head. “Even the Outfit has to keep up with the times,
” I said neutrally.
Bibiana appeared at the top of the stairs, her hair all over the place, her blouse dress buttoned wrongly and her feet bare. Tommaso winked at me. “Please excuse me. I have a meeting with Raffaele to discuss tomorrow night’s girls.”
Keeping up the smile was almost painful and the moment he was out of sight, I dropped the charade and hurried toward Bibiana, who’d come down the stairs. “Hey, everything okay?”
She swallowed. “Can we talk upstairs? I really need to shower.”
“Of course,” I said quickly. She gave me a tiny smile. I followed her silently upstairs, trying to suppress my fury toward Tommaso. I was already looking for ways to make Dante kill him, and that wasn’t something I should ever consider. I’d never been responsible for someone’s death. Even if Tommaso was the lowest scum on earth, I shouldn’t want him dead.
Bibiana led me into their bedroom. I pretended I didn’t notice the ruffled sheets as I followed her into the adjoining bathroom. Bibiana and I had seen each other naked before, especially when we were younger, so I wasn’t surprised when she got undressed in my presence. I perched on the edge of the bathtub.
“If I’d known Tommaso was home, I wouldn’t have come over.”
“No,” Bibiana said. “I’m glad you’re here. This way, at least, Tommaso won’t go for a second round right away.” My eyes flitted over the bruises on her hips, inner thighs and upper arms. I lowered my gaze to my lap and blinked away angry tears. Bibiana stepped into the shower and turned the water on. “Val?”
I stood and approached the shower stall. Bibiana’s expression was imploring. “I know I shouldn’t ask you this, but is there anything you can do?”
“Is he doing anything that goes against Dante or the Outfit? Anything at all?”
Bibi shook her head as the water plastered her dark hair against her forehead. “He’s loyal to the Cavallaros.”
That’s what I’d suspected. “Dante won’t act unless he’s a traitor, but maybe we can set him up.”
Bibiana’s eyes became huge. “You would trick Dante if we did that. You can’t go against him, Val. I can’t ask that of you.” She put on a brave smile. “I’m being overdramatic. Women have been going through this for centuries, and they all survived.”
Maybe, but that didn’t mean Bibiana should suffer through it.
She stepped out of the shower and I handed her a towel. “Let’s talk about something else. How are things going with Dante and you? Have you…?”
I nodded, a blush heating my cheeks. “Twice.”
“And? Was it bad?”
“No, actually it was…” I trailed off, realizing what I was doing. I couldn’t talk about how much I’d enjoyed being with Dante when Bibi had just been mounted by her pig of a husband. “…okay,” I finished halfheartedly.
Bibi gave me a look. “I know you, Val. I can tell that you’re lying. You don’t have to hold back because of me. I know that there are women who enjoy sex.”
“It was good,” I said.
Bibi took my hand and squeezed. “That’s good. You deserve some fun after the years with Antonio.”
I wanted to throw my arms around her and hold her, wanted to have Tommaso killed for her, but instead I merely squeezed back. “One day Tommaso will be gone, and then it’s your turn.”
She nodded, but the hopelessness in her eyes gutted me. “He’s fifty-two. With my luck, he’ll live another thirty years. I’ll be old and bitter then.”
* * *
Twenty minutes later, I was back in the car with Enzo, heading home.
As we pulled up in front of the gate to the premises, my eyes were drawn to a man standing on the other side of the street, and I jerked in surprise. It was Frank.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Frank? I’d recognize his red hair and lanky stature anywhere. Enzo shot me a look, but I quickly tore my eyes away from Antonio’s former lover before Enzo followed my gaze. What was Frank doing here? He should know better than to creep around the house of a mob member, especially the Boss of the Outfit. But then, Frank probably didn’t know that’s what Dante was, unless Antonio had revealed more to his lover than I was aware of.
I tried to keep a passive face as we pulled up the driveway, but I wasn’t sure I was succeeding. Enzo definitely had picked up that something was wrong and kept looking my way. “Thanks for picking me up,” I said and slipped out of the car the moment we came to a stop in the garage. Once inside the house, I strode upstairs into one of the guest bedrooms facing the street, but when I peered out of the window, Frank was already gone.
I had to figure out a way to contact him to find out what he wanted. But how?
I wasn’t supposed to leave the house unguarded anymore. And I didn’t even know where Frank lived, but I had a feeling he’d show up again soon. There must be something he needed to talk to me about. What if he wanted to blackmail me?
Great, now Dante’s manipulation was making me paranoid. Next time Frank was around, I’d simply have to find a way to sneak out of the house to talk to him.
A knock made me jump. The door was ajar and Gaby poked her head in. “Dinner’s ready,” she said shyly. “Mr. Cavallaro is waiting for you.”
“Couldn’t he have told me that himself?”
Gaby flushed. “I’m sorry. He sent me to get you.”
I touched her shoulder as I walked past her. “Don’t worry. I’m not blaming you.”
She followed a few steps behind me as we headed downstairs. Before I entered the dining room, I turned to her. “You don’t have to trail behind me. We can walk side by side, Gaby.”
She nodded before she disappeared through the door leading into the staff area. With a sigh, I stepped into the dining room. Dante was sitting in his usual spot at the end of the table. I crossed the living area and headed for him. My plate was placed at the other end of the table as it had been the other evenings. Somehow this made me unreasonably angry today. I stopped next to my chair, but didn’t sit down. “Why am I supposed to sit so far away from you?”
Dante lifted an eyebrow. “Are you angry?”
“Of course I’m angry. I don’t want to go through meals as if we’re strangers. You never try to keep that much distance between us when you fuck me.” The word made my skin crawl with discomfort, but I stood my ground.
Dante’s eyes narrowed a fraction, always so cool and calculating. “I wasn’t the one who insisted we have sex. If I recall, you were quite adamant about it.”
I couldn’t believe he acted as if he didn’t enjoy it. Maybe I wasn’t experienced, but I knew that he’d enjoyed himself tremendously. I grabbed my plate and cutlery and carried them over to the place beside Dante, where I sat them down with a bit too much force, making them clank loudly. I lowered myself into the chair, then stared at Dante defiantly.
“Please tell Zita to set the table like this from now on.”
“If that’s what you want,” he said indifferently.
Just then Zita walked in, and I didn’t get the chance to say something else. Her eyes flitted from Dante to me and a smile crossed her face. I really wanted to scream. She set down our plates. Homemade sweet potato gnocchi, sage butter and veal cutlets. She took her sweet time before she left again.
I speared a gnocchi and slid it into my mouth, then almost sighed because it was so delicious, but I didn’t want Dante to think I’d already gotten over my anger toward him.
Dante cut his veal without hurry. My eyes took in his strong hands, remembering how they felt on my skin, and hating myself for wanting to feel them again, despite his frustrating behavior.
“How was the visit with your parents?” Dante asked eventually. He sounded so blasé, I couldn’t even count the question as an attempt at making up for his rudeness.
“Didn’t my father give you a report?”
Dante slid a piece of veal into his mouth before he leveled his gaze on me. “We talk about business in our meetings,” he said, then a bit sharper, “I don’t know why
you’re acting like a petulant child. If I wanted a wife who did that, then I would have chosen Gianna.”
I dropped my fork with a clang. “Then maybe you should ask her. I’ll marry Matteo. At least I hear he isn’t a cold fish.”
“Cold fish, hmm? That’s what people call me?”
“They call you many things, but that’s the most accurate description of your character I’ve come across so far.”
“So are you interested in Matteo?”
“Excuse me?” The sudden question threw me off.
“You danced with him at our wedding, and you seemed to enjoy yourself more than usual.”
“Are you jealous of Matteo?”
“I’m not jealous, no. I’m merely trying to protect what’s mine.”
That sounded an awful lot like jealousy to me. “I don’t know why you even care. You don’t seem to be interested in me outside of the bedroom, and even that was initiated by me, as you pointed out so helpfully. Right now, I think if you ever caught me in bed with Matteo, you’d probably give me one of your cold looks and then go back to work.” I wasn’t sure why Matteo was even a topic. I’d never been interested in him. He’d always been too unpredictable for my taste.
“I’d go back to work, yes,” he said with a predatory smile. “After gutting Matteo and watching him bleed to death.” He took a sip of his white wine.
I gave up. It was obviously not possible to talk to Dante like husband and wife. We ate the rest of our dinner in silence, only broken by the scratching of our knives on the plates and the occasional thud when we set out glasses down on the table.
* * *
I was half-asleep when Dante came into bed. The mattress dipped and then his warm body pressed up against me. I didn’t stir. Dante brushed my hair off my back and pressed a hot kiss against my neck, then followed it with a gentle bite. I was glad I lay on my stomach and could stifle my gasp in the pillow. I didn’t want him to know how much his touch affected me, how much my body craved his ministrations. I was still mad at him for his words during dinner, but my body had a mind of its own.
