by V. Domino
It also gave me the opportunity to give Valentina her Christmas present. With Mama’s help, and her connections, I had given Valentina a unique necklace. The pendant, fashioned into a shell and engraved with the word ‘tesoro’, held a gold South Sea pearl and it now hung from her neck. I’d fastened it there as she pulled her hair aside, mimicking the motions I’d seen my parents carry out any time they got ready for an event.
My hand covered Mama’s as I nodded. “She loved it.”
“And she knew it was a promise?”
“I made it clear.” This gift had not been one to impress the girl of my dreams, though it had done just that. It was my promise to her that I would treasure her for the rest of my days, if she would let me, and her acceptance of the gift told me that she’d allow it. That Valentina had chosen me in the same way I chose her.
I hadn’t told Papa of my intentions just yet. It would involve us having to sit down with the Santoros and work out the details. They were highly unlikely to decline the match. You couldn’t marry any higher than a Diaz in our circle. But once I told him, then it would be set in stone. A piece of our future cemented and a clear call that no one else should try to get into her graces because she was spoken for.
“That’s my boy,” Mama smiled.
There was a soft knock on the door, and before it opened, I knew who it was. Only my Godmother possessed that level of refinement.
“I know you two aren’t having a party without me,” she said, surveying us both. Mama laughed and tried to push herself up to sitting. “Carmen, let me help.”
“Mia.” Mama sounded as if she was about to argue but the fight died on her lips as she allowed Mia to help her sit up properly. Her collarbones jutted out from her paper-thin skin and my heart ached to look at this woman who was my mother in name but no longer looked like the mother than played in my memories, on loop.
“Enzo, sweetheart,” Mia said. “Why don’t you go join your brothers while I help your Mama?”
Mia and her family had been the only ones to visit with any regularity. Their friendship ran deep and was born from a mutual respect and love rather than fear and hunger for power that most people held. Mia’s position in our world was equal to that of Mama’s. Two Queens who had spent their lives adjusting each other’s crowns.
“Thank you, Mia.”
She leaned over and kissed my cheek before I left Mama’s room, the Christmas music starting as I closed the door. I padded out of my parents’ wing and descended the stairs. As I reached the bottom, I could hear furious whispers that threatened to rise towards a full-blown argument. Iago and Alvia De Salvo stood by the front door, looking completely livid with each other.
All of the families involved in the business knew each other well but Alvia, Valentina and I had always been thrown together because we were the same age. Where Valentina was soft spoken and poised to become the perfect wife someday, Alvia was wild and unpredictable. She could often be found exchanging blows with her brother Carlos until Marcus pulled them apart and Alvia was reminded of her place.
“I’m not scared of you, Santiago Diaz,” Alvia hissed at him. Taking on her brother was one thing; taking on mine was a completely different league and I was certain she had a death wish.
“You want to watch your mouth, Alvia,” Iago warned her. “This is a family matter. It’ll be down to my family to break the news.” Iago towered over her but the way Alvia stood would have made you believe that she matched him in age, stature and skill.
“Let me remind you whose family brought it to your attention.”
“Enzo is not your concern. He’s my brother. We have enough on our plate.”
“What’s going on?” I asked, cutting through their argument and possibly saving Via’s life in the process.
Both heads snapped in my direction and there was a beat of silence before Via stepped forward. “Enzo,” she started, but Santi caught her arm.
“Are you deaf?” he asked.
“He deserves to know. Valentina‒”
Santi pulled her arm so that she faced him again. “I’m not in the habit of giving more than one warning.”
“What about Valentina?” I asked, an uneasy feeling beginning to rise in my chest.
“Nothing.” Santi answered my question curtly as Via wrenched her arm out of his grip.
“I swear–” But Alvia didn’t get to finish whatever threat was on her lips because her father came out to join us.
“Alvia.” His voice was ice cold, and I noted the way her eyes widened a fraction before the steely look returned. “I trust you aren’t making a spectacle of yourself.” His attention went to Iago. “I apologise on my daughter’s behalf. She is still learning what her place is.”
Via’s eye twitched at the implication that she was not fulfilling her duty. We all had a role here and Via’s was not to argue and be involved in the business. Via’s role was to one day become a wife and bear children, but she had not made herself an attractive prospect with the way she held herself.
“We’re leaving,” Marcus told her.
“But I thought you said…”
“Now.”
Marcus strode past us, giving a nod to Iago before opening the door. Via cast a look over her shoulder and mouthed the word ‘sorry’ at me before she followed behind her father, temporarily behaving like the docile daughter she should have been.
Sorry? The small seed of worry had blossomed into a full garden of panic. Via was never sorry about anything. Every word she said, every action was deliberate and thought out and even when it wasn’t, she lived with little regret, so for her to apologise to me felt like another misplaced piece in the weird puzzle of this twisted holiday season.
“Iago!” Papa’s voice cut through the house.
As Iago made his move past me, my hand shot out and gripped his arm. He looked at my hold before his eyes rested on my face.
“Valentina,” I said. My brothers weren’t oblivious to my feelings towards her. I had been teased mercilessly when we were younger, only for it to start blossoming into reality. “I want to know what’s going on.” It wasn’t often that I stood my ground in the house. The hierarchy of my family meant there was a long line of people ahead of me that I needed to follow orders from. I had seen plenty but was yet to officially join the fold. Without a vow, my opinion and desires counted for very little.
Iago seemed to weigh my sentence for a moment. When he spoke, his words held no emotion and I felt something in me splinter. “The Santoros broke their vow, Enzo. They are traitors. The entire family, including Valentina, has been taken care of and we’re better for it.”
He pulled his arm out of my grasp, walking away without another word, and I sank to the floor as my world crumbled before me. When you made your vow, it was a deal with Death, and the moment the Santoros had broken theirs, Death had come to collect.
I had learned that Simone Santoro was a rat. That he had been found trying to broker a deal with the Feds to bring us down. He broke his oath of silence, disregarded his duty, and for what? A lesser sentence? A new life with cleaner hands?
The rage that the family felt reverberated in my chest. Family. We are family. There were shots fired and blood spilled, but made men stood shoulder to shoulder. When it came down to it, we would fight against the world to ensure we continued to operate but Simone wanted to sell us out. He deserved everything he got in the end.
But deep beneath all the anger was an unquenchable grief. Simone’s foolish actions meant repercussions for the entire Santoro line, including my Valentina.
There would be no repatriation of bodies. No funeral. The name Santoro would no longer be spoken by the family, because no longer would we associate ourselves with someone who could betray us so easily.
I would never be able to say my goodbye to the woman who should have been mine.
Mateo and Javier hovered nearby since the news broke. They spoke softly and asked if I was okay, but how could I admit that I didn’t think
I would ever be okay again? I couldn’t sympathise with traitors even if I wanted to scream that Valentina could never have known about her father’s plans. Any tears I cried had been done so in isolation, when I was sure the rest of the house was asleep.
“Enzo.” Javier was standing at my bedroom door. His face looked drawn out, just as tired as the rest of us from all the news that had haunted us over the past few days. “I think you need to come and see Mama.”
For the second time in days, it felt like a heavy weight settled in the pit of my stomach. The sorrow was balled in my chest and rose in my throat, threatening to come out as a scream, but I swallowed it down. Need to see her. No one had ever told me I needed to see my mother.
Pushing myself from my bed, I walked towards Javi. He wrapped an arm around my shoulder and we walked back through the halls to Mama’s room. It was an effort, with each step I took becoming more difficult. I didn’t want to know what waited for me when I reached the room. A strange sense of foreboding lingered in the house for the past few days and I couldn’t help but think the bad news would keep rolling.
The fairy lights were on, but the music wasn't playing. Papa was sitting on the bed, holding Mama’s hand in his own. Iago and Teo were standing at the other side of her bed.
“Iago.” His name came out as a broken whisper. Iago turned to look at me and for the first time in my life I saw my eldest brother as broken and vulnerable. A tear escaped my eye and I brushed it away with the heel of my palm. I couldn’t cry. No one else was crying.
“Santi,” he corrected me.
And that was how I knew that Mama was not long for this world. Only she had been allowed to call him Santi. Only Mama had the right to treat him as if he were still a child, but now my big, bad brother required us to call him Santi because once Mama was gone the name would go with her. To call him Santi would allow her to remain with us in some way.
“Santi,” I echoed the name.
I left Javi’s grip as Santi held an arm out to me. He placed me in front of him and wrapped his arms around my shoulders, hugging me against his body. His hold felt as if he was trying to keep me with him, as if he was worried I might slip away with Mama if he let me go. We had never been close but all the childish arguments seemed insignificant and were swallowed by the swelling grief in the room.
Time had slowed and the room was only filled with the sounds of Mama’s rasping breaths and the ticking of the clock. I would have given anything to walk out of the room, out of the house, of the state but I stood with the rest of my family through what would always be the most painful loss in my life.
Mama left us at 11:32 PM, Christmas Eve.
December had been drained of its magical reverie. The joy had been bled from the season and buried alongside the two loves of my life. And I was certain that I would never look forward to the holiday season again.
I tossed my keys to the valet, who fumbled as he caught them in his gloved hands. “If I find a scratch on her,” I warned, straightening out my jacket, and he nodded nervously in understanding.
Black tie events had always made me uncomfortable, but the consequence for breaking the dress code was dire. My sister in law didn’t allow any interpretation of her instructions. I’d found that out the hard way, resulting in a beautiful new scar on the back of my hand five years ago. It probably would have been worse if my brother hadn’t pulled her away, but it had had a lasting impact, and so her desire for me to look like a penguin for the night had been fulfilled.
Tipping my head back, I took in the grand façade of the hotel in front of me. One of many that belonged to my family, but this one had been Mama’s favourite. Sleek and modern, the building oozed class and attracted a certain calibre of guests that helped to line our pockets in a more savoury way than our traditional route.
A dull ache began in my chest at the thought of Mama. The pain of her loss may have faded with time, but it never left, and the holiday season remained a time of year that I would have rather seen through with the bottom of a bottle. However, that had not been an option for years and would definitely not be the case tonight.
As the first few flakes of snow began to fall, I trotted up the steps and into the foyer, letting the heat wash over me. I walked down the hallway before taking a right into the ballroom and surveying the décor. None of the traditional red, green and gold. No candy canes and sugar plum princesses or whatever the fuck that ballet was. Instead, icy blue tones and shimmery silver took up every available surface. The large trees in each corner of the room followed the same colour scheme, topped with glittery stars, and a miniature ice sculpture of a nutcracker stood as the centrepiece at every table.
I caught sight of a woman discreetly giving the middle finger to a couple who were retreating from her and laughed to myself. Moving stealthily, I hugged her from behind, causing her to jump and almost lose the contents of her champagne flute. “Enzo!” she yelled, turning around, her dark, blunt cut bob swayed around her chin. She shoved me away from her and I took a step back, still laughing. “You’re an idiot.”
“Alvia,” I said warmly as she adjusted the dark fabric of her dress and ensured the little modesty the plunging neckline offered. “What did Olivia do to piss you off this time?” I asked, jutting my chin over to the woman who had just left her.
Via let out a disgruntled sound. “The list is never ending. I’d much rather hear you tell me what a wonderful job I’ve done decorating this place.”
“I hadn’t noticed.” That earned me a punch to the arm, and I looked around the room again. “It’s stunning, Via. I notice you haven’t skipped out on the mistletoe.” My eyes flicked to the spot above where we were standing. “Do I get a kiss?”
“Do you wish to keep your life?” A dark voice came from behind me and I had to resist the urge to roll my eyes. I didn’t need to turn around to know who it belonged to, and soon enough Santi’s large, imposing figure stood next to Via. Although, I had to admit he was a little less intimidating in his penguin suit, bow tie sitting tipsy at his neck.
“Is that a serious question?” I asked as he placed an arm around Via’s waist and pulled her into him.
“Was yours?” he shot back, looking ready to start round one of a fight. Via stepped in front of her husband, fixing his bow tie so that it finally sat straight; however, Santi’s eyes remained fixed on me.
“Sant,” she said softly, hand resting on his chest and pulling his attention to her. Via was the only person in the world that was allowed to and who would even contemplate referring to my twisted brother as a saint. “He’s not that stupid.”
“I beg to differ,” he snorted in response.
“I’m still here, you know,” I told him.
Santi looked up but Via caught his chin between her slender fingers and pulled him down towards her before placing a kiss on his lips. When they broke apart, the faint, dark stain of her lipstick had imprinted onto his lips, but the tension had seeped away from his shoulders. There were only two things in the world Santi softened for and those were his wife and his children.
“Where’s my princesa?” I asked, pulling a face at their nauseating display of affection.
“Last time I saw her she was with Chance and Kennedy,” Via informed me. That answer made my brother tense up again. Hearing that his little princess was busy running around with Chance Foster always sent his blood pressure through the roof, never mind the fact they were little kids.
“I’ll go find them and keep an eye. I’ll report back, boss,” I said, giving Santi a rigid salute before turning on my heel and leaving the couple.
As I left, I heard him mutter the word, “Idiot.”
Over the years, Santi and I had had our fair amount of fights. He was too serious about life and I held little care for the future, which meant we clashed over most things. The bridge between us held the kids. Being trusted to play the role of not only uncle but Godfather to two out of three of Santi’s children had seen the arguments become less frequent.<
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I did a round of the room, making polite chat to a few of the guests that stopped me. I couldn’t care less about keeping face with the wider family. If you weren’t blood, you automatically dropped a few notches on my priority list. The true reasons I showed up to these events were my niece and nephews. Their joy over Christmas had started to wake something inside of me that I thought had died years ago.
“Roberto,” I said, spying a slightly worried member of our security. “I don’t suppose you’ve lost something of Santi’s that he’d deem as priceless.”
He turned on his heel to look at me, panic flashing across his features. “I have no idea how she gets away so easily.”
“She’s her mother’s daughter,” I mumbled under my breath. “Move. Start looking before he realises his princesa has disappeared.”
We marched out of the room, Roberto splitting from me to look for Nova. I strode over to the reception desk, ready to get the entire hotel staff to drop what they were doing and hunt for my niece, but then I heard my Goddaughter’s laughter. Across the foyer, in the bar, Nova was swamped by the layers of silvery blue tulle that constituted her dress, and she twirled for a woman who was crouched in front of her. Mateo was sitting on a stool at the bar watching our niece, and my heart calmed down at knowing Nova was under my brother’s watchful eye.
“You could have told Roberto you took her,” I said to Mateo as I joined him at the bar.
He shrugged. “It’s a reminder he should be more vigilant in his job.”
“You’re going to get him killed.”
“I wouldn’t let it get that far.”
Of course, Mateo wouldn’t let it get that far. Not unless it had something to do with Isa. No, Teo’s head was too busy in code to think about getting his hands dirty. He was the only one out of the four of us who inherited Mama’s penchant for being able to keep secrets of his own and crack the ones others tried to hide. I was almost jealous that he could say that he was like her in that sense.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, and I waved him off dismissively before signalling to the bartender for a drink. I had no intention of taking a trip down memory lane tonight when I had Nova to spend time with. This would be her first time at a large family party, and I had taken it upon myself to make sure she enjoyed every minute.
