One, because I need my stamina for tonight. At least, for the events to come.
And two, because we’re hiding out in the bathroom of the art center where her father’s holding his fundraiser. And while I don’t particularly care about appearing presentable for the miserable fuck, I know Caroline needs to look composed for her part of the night.
“I’m not complaining.” She sucks in a ragged breath, a wobbly smile lighting her face. Straightening to her full height, she adjusts the neckline of the gold mermaid-cut gown she has on, ensuring her tits aren’t spilling out of it. They are, but I don’t say a word. How the fuck can I, knowing what I do now? Knowing she’s got my kid inside her, changing her body in the most glorious ways.
The knocking continues, a muffled voice of agitation joining the fray, but she doesn’t seem at all embarrassed or rushed. Walking to the sink, she peers at herself in the mirror, fluffing her hair and wiping some smudged lipstick from the corner of her mouth.
I sidle up behind her, fitting my pelvis into her delectable, round ass, and place my palms over her stomach. A flutter takes hold in my abdomen, a sort sol within me that does nothing but inspire hope. Love. Happiness.
“Elia.” Her voice holds a warning, eyelids half-closed in her reflection. “We don’t have time.”
My head falls to her bare shoulder, knowing she’s right. We’ve slightly altered the plan of actually killing her father—since I refuse to put her or my child in any danger—and are focusing on ruining his credibility. Making sure he never holds another office, title, or job in this entire country.
Still, something about the way her body seems to vibrate with excitement at the very prospect of ruining Dominic Harrison fills me with unease. It’s part of the reason I pulled her inside the first available bathroom, ravaging her senseless, in case she’s getting other ideas.
“You know how tonight’s gonna go, right?”
She nods. “In half an hour, my dad’ll step up to the podium to formally introduce us as a married couple. Looking for validation in your community, as well as among voters that are afraid of you. Midway through his speech, his microphone will cut out, and audio from a meeting with Todd Davis will play, detailing his complicity in pedophilia and grooming a minor.”
I inhale, squeezing her. Unable to tell her how I got the audio clip—she still hasn’t heard the full conversation—she sits partially in the dark. A wave of nausea wracks through me at the pain this will cause her.
But she asked me to do whatever it takes.
If I could reveal my method without spoiling the latter half of my plan, I would.
I’d do anything for this woman—for us.
For our baby.
Unfortunately, I swore myself to secrecy, so she has no idea what’s to come. “And when the center erupts into justified outrage?”
“I take Juliet, find Luca, and leave. Benito will be waiting curbside in your town car.”
“That’s right. And I’ll stay behind to make sure everything’s worked out, that your father’s adequately ruined, and meet you at the airport.” I disconnect our bodies, running a hand through my hair as she turns to face me. “And you won’t do anything crazy that puts you in jeopardy.”
“Right.”
Cocking my head, I study her: the soft makeup around her eyes makes her look delicate, though I know she’s so much more than that. Fierce, bold. A protector. A goddamn warrior. “Are you going to be okay with this? I know you had pretty distinct plans for the men on that list of yours.”
“Plans change, right?” She shrugs, smoothing one of her hands over the left lapel of my suit jacket. Pausing over my breast pocket, on top of my heart, she smiles. “I mean, I no longer want to kill you.”
“Cristo, I should hope not.”
She taps me three times, a gesture I’m coming to recognize as her way of telling me those three little words she’s yet to utter. Holding her hand over my heart the way I imagine she’d hold it in her hand, Morse code that speaks to my pulse. It makes my chest swell, even if I wish for vocalization. I’ll settle for this, for now.
I know the truth, anyway.
If there were any doubt in her mind, I wouldn’t know a baby was growing in her. Wouldn’t get the chance to feel that joy, to convince her to stay with me.
She steps closer, leaning up on her tiptoes to press a quick kiss to my lips, and then moves to the exit, flipping the lock. My father and Marco stand just outside the door, annoyance lacing their brows.
“Sorry, boys, Mr. Montalto needed some help with his bowtie.” She winks, dashing past them and disappearing into the crowd.
Marco gives me a once-over. “You’re not wearing a fucking bowtie.”
Ignoring them, I sweep out of the bathroom and make my way to our assigned table, situated right in front of the stage. Dominic’s ugly mug is plastered around the ballroom over photocopies of the American flag, which feels blasphemous for a myriad of reasons.
Mrs. Harrison sits at the opposite side from me; her nose turned up in conversation with another middle-aged socialite. They cut a glance at me, and then quickly divert their gazes. It’s just as well. I don’t have a single fucking thing to say to that woman.
My father settles into the seat beside me, taking a sip of water. “Politicians,” he spits, returning the glass to the table and glaring around the room. Even the napkins have Dom’s face on them. “Fucking dogs, the whole lot of ’em. Give me hardened criminals over a sell-out bureaucrat any fucking day. At least they’ve got a sense of modesty.”
“That’s an insult to dogs,” I note.
“Dogs will lick their dicks in front of anyone. Politicians debase themselves in front of anyone. It might be an insult, but the vein is the same.” He glances at me, leaning back in his seat, an odd look on his face. “You seem different, son. Less ghastly.”
“Oh, gee, thanks Pops.” I chuckle, unbuttoning the top button on my jacket. The room is abuzz, reporters snapping pictures everywhere, and I want to make sure I appear as relaxed and aloof as possible, since I know I’ll be implicated later.
“It’s a compliment, Elia, Gesù Cristo. I know these last few months have been difficult for you, on account of our shit, and then adding Caroline’s problems in on top of it... I was worried about you, all right?”
“You have a weird way of showing it.”
He nods, grasping his napkin in his fist. Unfolding it, he drops it into his lap, sighing. “It’s hard, without your mom. She was better at this kind of thing.”
“It’s been twenty-three years, Pop.” I cock an eyebrow. “Don’t blame it on just being bad at reaching out. You didn’t make an effort, didn’t want to, and that’s the whole of it. The family was your life, and you’ve worked hard to make sure you left it in good hands. But at some point, I think you forgot that you had a son, not a simple protege.”
“You’re right. I’ve been an ass. I’m sorry.”
I shrug, picking at the tablecloth. Silk, lavish like everything else for this campaign. Where the fuck did Dominic even get the money to throw this gala? My guess is he cashed out the money I sent him and didn’t spend a single dime repaying anyone.
“Don’t apologize to me. Try to get to know my wife, the woman I love, so you get to be a part of your grandchild’s life.”
His gray eyebrows shoot up into his hairline, forehead wrinkling under the movement. “My grandchild?”
Nodding, I stay silent, eyes trained on Mrs. Harrison to see whether she heard me or not. I don’t particularly care one way or the other, but it’ll be a nice little send-off when I exile her ass from town to know she won’t ever get to meet the baby.
A tick forms under her left eye; bingo.
My father clears his throat, nodding to himself. “Well, okay, then. She’s family. I’ll see to it.”
“As if there was ever any question, old man. I’m the capo, remember?”
Caroline and Juliet finally re-enter the b
allroom, Luca and Marco hot on their trail; their only job tonight is to keep an eye on the sisters, ensure their absolute safety.
My cell phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it from my jacket to scan the screen and see an unsaved number pop up. A virtual stranger, someone my father will be delighted to know I’ve formed a truce with.
Ready when u r.
Rolling my eyes at the Irishman’s insistence on shorthand—it’s not that fucking hard to type out a full word—I let my eyes drift around the room as my wife drops to her seat at my side, gulping down a drink of her ginger ale. At the back entrance, I catch sight of Gia and a tall, hooded figure I’ve yet to formally meet.
But I don’t need to know him to know he can do what I need. According to Kal, he’s the next best thing. A finisher for Stonemore, capable of things Kal himself isn’t willing to do.
Which is why I involved him in this.
Gia gives me a short nod, and I turn my head just as Dominic ascends the stage stairs, waving his hands dramatically to little applause.
He adjusts his blue tie, gripping the edges of the podium as he stares out at the crowd, tactfully avoiding eye contact with our entire table. Mrs. Harrison stands, going to join him, but Juliet and Caroline remain seated, blank expressions on their faces.
Leaning over, I place my palm on Caroline’s thigh through her sequined dress, giving a gentle squeeze. Her hand comes down over mine, linking our fingers, and every bit of unease that weaseled its way inside me seems to melt away.
She’s a balm to the chapped, burnt spots on my soul. Not the solution. Not the fix. But the provision of just enough relief that I feel like I can get through life.
“King’s Trace,” Dominic begins, lips grazing the microphone as he shifts his weight from side to side, appearing uncomfortable under the harsh spotlights pointed at him. I wonder if he has a sixth sense, one warning him of what’s to come. “A town I’ve loved for what feels like my entire life. I’ve been so proud to serve you the last few years. It’s a privilege to be elected, and even more to earn the unanimous support of your constituents.”
Unanimous, my ass. Like organized crime isn’t the reason he got elected.
Like he doesn’t owe everything he is, and could ever hope to be, to us.
“I know things look bleak, with the recent deaths of a couple of my closest colleagues, but rest assured, I’d have Sheldon and Todd’s full support in this campaign relaunch. In fact, in the interest of full transparency with you folks, the public I’ve chosen to serve and represent, I want to officially announce my anti-crime initiative. If elected, I’ll be working closely with police to enact measures that ensure, specifically, our little town’s safety, but eventually the safety of all of Maine. So we can once again enjoy life without fear of harm. So we can sleep at night and not be afraid of the horrors lurking outside.”
His gaze falls to mine, and a smile curves over my lips; they curl over my teeth, stretching painfully, and Dominic clears his throat, pulling against the knot in his tie.
A reporter sticks a hand up, and he points to them, granting questions. “How will you combat the presence of organized crime in King’s Trace? And what will you do to end the drug trade? The Montaltos won’t go down easily.”
“Certainly not.” Dominic chuckles, and a low murmur spreads through the crowd. My father rolls his eyes, and when I glance back to see where Gia and the hooded figure are, I see they’ve disappeared.
Perfect. Everything’s happening as scheduled.
“I’m sure many of you have noticed that it’s just my wife and me on stage tonight, representing the family values I’ve always endorsed. You probably also noticed that a couple of months ago, my oldest daughter, Caroline, got married to a Montalto.”
A few gasps sound around the room, but for the most part, people seem unimpressed. Heads turn, whispers float in the air, and Caroline’s thumb strokes the back of my hand.
“That being said, I think with Elia as my son-in-law, we’ll have a much simpler time convincing the Montaltos to join the effort to ensure safety to King’s Trace residents. In fact, I’ve got a plan—”
His words become inaudible as the microphone cuts off, a crackling sound crawling through the speakers. He glances around, confused, still trying to speak into the mic. Static fills the room, signaling an audio clip, and after a few beats when he realizes he isn’t regaining control of the situation, he begins to panic. Pointing at an aide and talking animatedly, he rushes to one side of the stage, slightly obscuring his body. Probably telling his staff to investigate, but it won’t do any good.
Mrs. Harrison stands and smiles out at the crowd, trying to appease them. Act like nothing is wrong, the same way she does with her family.
Dom returns to the podium, eyes scanning the crowd for the I.T. guys, but to no avail. They’ve been relieved for the evening, and the media room is completely sealed off, controlled from a remote location. This campaign just became a ticking time bomb.
MY FATHER’S FACE reddens the longer static fills the ballroom, giving his audience a sneak-peek into his true personality.
But I don’t need the reminder. I’ve lived it.
And it’s high past time for his reign of terror to end.
Todd Davis’s voice filters through the speaker after a few more strained moments of crackling, immediately diving into the depravity that is the senator and his cohorts.
“You’re lucky Sheldon got to fuck that daughter of yours years ago. No way would he take her now, especially after she’s been sold to the goddamn mob. Imagine how many of Montalto’s men are using her over there.”
Elia winces at my side, and I know he doesn’t like being referred to as a bidder in a flesh auction. That, to him, the amount of money he paid for my hand and Juliet’s safety was more of a dowry than anything else.
I’m not stupid. I knew there was something more to my father letting me marry Elia over someone else he had picked out. It was better than any alternative.
My father’s raspy laugh fills my ears; it feels like someone driving a spike through my brain. “She’s young enough that if I can get my hands on her again, it won’t matter. Not as young as when he had her, but still. Theory of elasticity, or whatever that is. We could probably make her useful again. Problem is, the terms Montalto set up in our contract mean I can’t touch her sister, either. So, I don’t know how the fuck I’m going to pay anyone back.”
“Keep doing what you’re doing. You’re bound to come into a position of power high enough to just lock the fuckers up you owe money to, or make those debts disappear entirely.”
“They aren’t exactly on the books. I doubt these gangs keep electronic records.”
I watch my father pale, eyes darting between Elia and me, and he laughs, fidgeting with the collar of his shirt. He walks over to a speaker and bends, ripping the cords from the back. It doesn’t stop the audio, though, and he turns to a guard and another aide, waving his arms. I can hear him—high-pitched and slowly coming undone—from my seat at the table.
My mother looks shell-shocked, as though she had no idea any of this was happening, but I know that’s not true. You can’t be married to a man and be completely oblivious to what draws his attention.
I don’t feel bad. Only relieved.
“You could keep using that kid to skim from the Montalto warehouse,” Todd says, and Elia’s hand flexes beneath mine as if itching to go up there and beat my father himself.
Part of me wants him to. The sick, depraved part that finds his brand of violence attractive. Like he’s my personal vigilante.
Still, I know why we’re doing this instead. It’s clean, appropriate, and more fun than letting my father rot in a grave somewhere.
Juliet turns in her seat with tears in her eyes, reaching across the table to clasp my free hand. I wish I could’ve involved her in the plan, but it needed to go off without any hiccups. It was tonight or never.
Everyone in King�
��s Trace knows about the Montalto drug racket; more than half of the residents are semi-frequent buyers, using rent money to buy a gram. But Elia’s not pretending to be something he’s not, the way my father is.
I take a sip of my ginger ale as the audience erupts into hysterics, the audio droning on and on, detailing the entirety of my father’s illegal activities like Bond villains and their last monologue.
How Gia was able to bug my father’s home office is beyond me, but it’s clear neither man had a clue they were being monitored.
Luca appears out of nowhere, his hand gripping my shoulder just as my father finds an extra mic, attempting to quiet the crowd and reassure them that these recordings are entirely falsified.
Gazette reporters swarm the stage, and Elia grasps the sides of my face, dragging my gaze to his. “Go now. Before they look for your bones to feed on.” I nod, and he brings me to him, kissing me quickly. My mouth opens, a confession on my tongue, but he shakes his head, pressing his hand over it. “Not here. Later.”
And even though it pains me to leave him there to clean up my mess, to give control to this man who’s so quickly become an integral part of my very being, I do. Because part of ruining my father includes following through with this.
Juliet gets up with me, hooking her arm through mine, and we shoulder our way through the crowd of elegantly dressed people, pushing past even when they notice us and try to swallow us whole. Luca trails close behind, a hand on each of us, propelling us forward.
We get to a dark alcove at the back of the center, which is an old colonial-style building with a wrap-around driveway. Headlights flash through the tall windows as cars pull up and away from the building, and Luca does a quick once-over of the area we’re in, ducking behind curtains and potted plants to ensure we’re alone.
Once he’s satisfied with our solitude, he pulls the two of us into a big hug. He’s not happy about the turn of events, especially considering the feelings he still seems to harbor for me; but in the interest of loyalty to his boss and to me as family, he agreed to continue helping with my plan.
Sweet Surrender: A Dark Mafia Enemies-to-Lovers Romance (King's Trace Antiheroes Book 1) Page 22
