She wondered if this is what her life might be, if she married David: running non-profits and helping to undo the crimes done in the past by these families. If she had no choice in her whole present circumstance, then maybe she could make the best of it.
“Ah, yes, why am I not surprised,” Steven said wryly. “Oh yes, the non-profit sector was really created to be a tax break for us. Lots of large corporations have them. But Antonio was particularly determined to have ours be something substantial.”
Emma picked up a paper holding the addresses of all of the health centers Angels Services had under its umbrella. “I guess he must really like charity.”
Steven huffed a laugh. “Definitely not,” he said. “He hardly has patience for any of the non-profit meetings and only allowed the budget secretary to come into his office when it was regarding Angels Services.”
Emma’s heart began to slowly pick up speed. She wondered if her cheeks were visibly radiating heat. “Maybe it was a way for him to help erase that gangster past,” she said softly, although she was sure she knew the answer.
Steven shrugged. “Well it certainly helped in that regard. And Antonio was most definitely anxious to reorganize the Del Marco Clan image. It’s a new world and there is no profits in the hidden underbellies of the world. You need to come out now.” Steven sighed and leaned a hip against the edge of the desk. “But of course, none of that is achieved just because you have a sizeable non-profit sector in your company.”
The lawyer matched eyes with Emma, giving her a meaningful look. “I feel that it might’ve been his way of trying to make someone proud,” he said softly.
Emma stared at the older man. Her heart was now racing and she was sure her cheeks were as red as apples.
Steven straightened up, preparing to leave. “And let me tell you, Miss Del Marco,” he said with a soft smile, “Gabe Del Marco was not one for charities or giving. He only thought to take, take, take. And Charisse Del Marco, God rest her soul, had only been in Antonio’s life for a mere eight months, hardly enough time to leave an impression.” He crossed to the door. Putting his hand on the doorway, he said quietly, “So it makes you wonder who he was trying to make proud.”
Chapter 16
Steven’s words echoed through her mind for the rest of the day. Even as they climbed into their Range Rover, Emma could hardly pull her thoughts away from what the lawyer had said.
Did Antonio care about how she thought about him? It seemed almost preposterous. The man oozed confidence. If they could bottle what Antonio had and sell it, no high school boy would ever graduate a virgin.
And yet…she had noticed moments when she caught his gaze from the corner of her eyes. She had noticed how he had tried to quickly pass over certain topics like the founding of Angels Services. If she hadn’t known any better, she would’ve guessed he had been embarrassed.
But too many of the puzzle pieces lined up. Too many dates were too perfect to be coincidences. When she had first been dragged into Antonio’s home, she had thought he had only seen her as a means to an end, a way to close a much-wanted deal. And now….
And now….
Ring ring!
Emma jerked in her seat in surprise. It wasn’t a ringtone she was used to hearing. Antonio’s phone only had a steady beeping sound on his phone. Emma still had yet to be given a cell phone. But this ringtone was an actual ring.
She turned around to see Antonio answering a small Blackberry that she had never seen before.
“What is it?” he answered, his voice low and with a touch of steel.
Emma stared at him in surprise. After seeing him in his corporate office all day, she was a little jarred to see this rough persona come through.
“No, keep the distribution back,” Antonio said in that same voice. “I’ve told you to scale back.”
Emma wondered who he was speaking to. Antonio never spoke like that to anyone in the office. He spoke with authority but not with anger. But here, she could hear more than a touch of tethered anger in his voice.
“What the fuck!” Antonio suddenly burst. Emma nearly jumped through the roof of the car at hearing his growling burst of anger. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
Emma watched as he listened to whatever the other person was saying. Antonio gave an aggrieved sigh as he closed his eyes, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.
“You meet me at our spot in ten minutes. And don’t fucking make me come after you,” Antonio said as he abruptly ended the call. “Ricks,” he called out to the driver, “we need to stop by the alley.”
Ricks nodded silently, completely unperturbed by his boss’s sudden rage, as he smoothly turned the wheel, making a sharp left.
“Is…is something wrong?” Emma asked a little nervously. Even when angry, she had never seen Antonio lose control and yet she could see him struggling to keep his temper in check. The veins of his corded neck pulsed and his large hands opened and closed as if he was dying to punch something.
Antonio closed his eyes and took a deep breath before turning to Emma. With his eyes burning silver, he said calmly, “We’re going to stop somewhere for a few minutes. I need to speak with someone. So I want you to stay in the car quietly until I get back in. Understand?”
Emma nodded, bewildered. “Yes, but—”
Antonio raised a hand. “Just stay in the car.”
In less than ten minutes, they had found their way towards a small strip of road. Either side was surrounded by dilapidated buildings and broken streetlamps. Emma was quite certain they had passed Skid Row on their way here.
What was going on? Who would Antonio need to meet anyone out here? She wiped her nervous palms on her knees. As their Range Rover pulled to a stop, Emma suddenly wanted to cling to Antonio’s arm. She wanted to beg him not to go outside. She could feel an air of danger and she didn’t want him to walk out into it.
“I see him, boss,” Ricks’ low voice cutting in.
Antonio nodded. “I see him too. Remember to keep visual and don’t let Emma out of the car.”
Ricks nodded.
With a face that looked like it was cut from solid rage, Antonio exited the car. Emma gripped the leather seat below her. Where was he going? Couldn’t he see that this whole street screamed danger?
Ricks lowered the tinted passenger window by an inch. Being so tall, he could see perfectly out through the small slit, keeping an eye on his boss. Emma squinted through the window and caught the shifty sight of a man standing against the edge of a grungy looking building that had broken windows and a boarded up door.
She could hear a greasy sounding voice drift in through the open window, “Hey, boss.”
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing right now, Katz?”
Even from her far distance in the car, Emma could hear every ringing note of anger and frustration in Antonio’s voice.
“I thought you’d be happy with the increase in my profits,” Katz said in what sounded almost like a pout.
Emma sat on the edge of her seat, straining to hear their conversation.
“I made it abso-fucking-lutely clear that you were to scale back. You’re entire unit was to scale back,” Antonio seethed. “Where the fuck did you get the extra units?”
“Hey, man, I was just doing—”
Emma heard Katz gasp followed by a hard thud. She squinted out the window and saw Antonio with his fist around Katz’s grubby shirtfront, throwing him against the wall and lifting him clear off his feet.
“Where?” Antonio demanded.
Katz grabbed at Antonio’s wrists. “Hey man! I’m just giving people what they want! I was doing you a solid, man! My profits—”
Antonio slammed him against the wall again. “Where!”
“The Ronaldos!” Katz groaned. “Fuck! The Ronaldos got a small op going. Just some weed and heroin for now but—”
“So my word isn’t good enough for you, Katz?” Antonio asked, his voice lethally quiet. “You had to disres
pect my orders and then go selling fucking cheap inferior shit under my name?” Antonio pushed him up a little higher, making the small man squeak in fear. “What the fuck, Katz. What. The. Fuck.”
“H-Hey, man. Listen, people still craving it! They trust DMClan product! I-I really though that you would want—”
“Oh,” Antonio said in a voice that made Emma think of a cat playing with a mouse before he ate it. “So now you think for me as well, do you?”
“N-No! No! Come on, man. I meant—”
Whatever Katz meant, it wasn’t heard because he was doubled over, clutching his gut with both his hands. Antonio’s fist was still raised as he straightened himself up. It looked as if Katz was out for the count. But as suddenly as a hyena, the small man jumped up and with a roar, began running towards Antonio with his head down, reading to tackle him.
Emma gasped, wanting to shout out a warning while also block the attacker. She did neither as she swallowed dryly. Ricks watched from his seat, his eyes squinted and focused on his boss.
Antonio deflected and grabbed Katz by the waist, swinging him around and against the wall. He gave two quick punches in his ribs before the small man wriggled out.
Katz stumbled as he tried to stand and face Antonio. “What the fuck, dude?” he mumbled. “What’s your problem?”
“My problem?” Antonio asked, his voice now honed to a knife’s edge. “My problem is that I have fucking idiots who don’t know how to take orders!” He attacked first, swinging a right hook. Katz dodged the hook but missed the uppercut. He stumbled backwards awkwardly.
“I said, scale back,” Antonio said, as he landed another punch that made Katz’s face swing to the left. “I said, stop selling.” He punched him again in the gut. Katz groaned as he fell forward, curling into a ball. “And it’s time you fucking learned that what I say goes.” And with final emphasis on his last word, Antonio gave him a good kick.
“You try selling in my territory again and you’ll see what happens when I’m really angry,” Antonio spat.
Leaving the man battered and out on the ground, Antonio got back into the Range Rover. Without a word in regards to his bloody knuckles, he leaned back in his seat and said calmly, “Alright, Ricks. Let’s go.”
Emma stared at his large hands, fingers long and blunt. She looked at the reddened knuckles and the blood smeared along the backs. She had just watched her stepbrother fight and beat a man bareknuckled.
She thought back to what Steven had said earlier about Antonio and his charity efforts. She thought about Antonio at the Gala.
Would she never figure out Antonio Del Marco?
Chapter Seventeen
Emma wandered down the stairs, hearing her steps echo against the slick marble flooring. Behind her, her daily security guard trailed lazily behind. It seemed since accompanying Antonio to the office, the edge had been taken off her security detail. Instead of sticking to her till she could feel their breath on her neck, they hung back and gave her a little space which she appreciated.
As she reached the foyer, she peeked down the side hallway. The office door was closed. She knew Antonio was inside working. Sometimes when he worked in his home office, he would call her in to watch and learn.
But not today.
Today she hadn’t even seen him at breakfast. She had been disappointed at his absence. She wanted to see if his knuckles were okay from last night. She wanted to make sure he was alright.
Emma shook her head, chastising herself mentally. Of course he’s alright. He led the most vicious gang in all of America. One fistfight couldn’t hurt him.
Still. He hadn’t come to breakfast.
Emma sighed as she finally gave up on the office and strolled down the main hallway towards what was quickly becoming her favorite room in the house.
The library was so cozy. With its plush carpets and soft couches, Emma could tell that this room had been decorated with comfort and joy in mind. Feeling the need to ease her mind from all the tension she had pent up, she took a slow stroll around the room, admiring each shelf of books and knick knacks.
Once again, she was amazed by the sheer number of books available. Many of them looked quite well worn. She just couldn’t picture Gabe Del Marco sitting down on these couches and cracking open a good book. And yet, even if Antonio had been the one to create this library, she had a hard time believing he would have the time to read so many books, so many times that the bindings cracked.
And then again, she thought, maybe he did. After all, it seemed the man was an endless supply of surprises. And not just any kind of surprises—give-you-a-heart-attack-while-running-away-from-a-tiger kind of surprises. After all, hadn’t he dropped the bomb of having a notorious mobster stepbrother on her within the first fifteen minutes of meeting?
Stepbrother.
Growing up an orphan, Emma had ached for family. Sometimes the need was so acute, she actually felt a pain in her stomach. She had fantasized about her long lost mother and father. She imagined an identical twin sister somewhere in the world looking for her. She imagined a doe eyed younger brother missing his older sister.
Never in all her years could she have predicted being the little sister, even just through marriage, to a man like Antonio.
Now it was even harder. When she had been younger, she had craved family. Now, older and a little wiser, she realized what she really wanted was connection. She didn’t want to be the sole resident in her world; she wanted a partner. She wanted someone to share moments and create memories with.
As a child, that had meant doing that through family. But now as a woman, she realized she needed more….
So lost in thought, Emma bumped a small side table that stood next to a couch. “Ow!” she exclaimed quietly but then froze. She had assumed the small little table was just decoration. Only a small bronze bowl stood on it. But bumping into it, she heard something heavier jostle within.
Curious, she looked over her shoulder at the open door. Nobody let her yet close doors in the house except her bedroom door. Her beefy looking guard stood outside, his back to her.
Quietly she opened the small drawer the table held. Inside, were two quite sizeable picture frames, both faced down. Picking one up, she could feel the heavy wood of the frame.
Feeling like she was completely invading Antonio’s privacy, she turned the frame over. Emma uttered a soft strangled cry as she looked at the photo.
For a half second, she had thought she was looking down at a picture of herself. The woman had a similar height and body structure to her. Her eyes were the same almond shape brown. She had the same full lips that always looked like it was pouting just a little.
But her mind quickly registered the differences. This woman had thicker hair that was much curlier. Her cheeks were a little wider apart and rounder. But Emma instantly recognized who she was.
Mom.
Emma could feel her hands trembling as she ran a forefinger over the woman’s face. With no memories of her mother, this was the first time she had ever looked upon Charisse’s face. “Mom,” she whispered thickly, her throat tight as a drum.
In the photo, her mother had one knee on a ladder as she held up pot she looked like she meant to hang. She was looking over her shoulder, caught in the middle of a laugh, her eyes twinkling with humor. The room she stood in looked quite familiar. Emma squinted and realized it was the library she was standing in. But it was in its early stages of formation. Only some of the shelves were up and Emma could see various fabric swatches scattered around her mother’s feet.
Emma drew in a shuddering breath and looked around the room with new eyes. So the softness she had seen, the coziness, it had all been her mother’s doing. Those dozens and dozens of nearly threadbare books had been handled over and over again by her mother. The plant that her mother was trying to hang in the photo was now gone. Probably because no one was around to water and care for it anymore. But she recognized the couch’s fabric in on of the small swatch squares from the photo
.
This whole room had been loved and touched by her mother. And standing there, Emma suddenly felt like her heart would burst. She had never had such a solid and tangible connection with her mother.
Feeling tears crowd her lashes, Emma turned over the second picture. She inhaled quickly, feeling a small punch in the gut.
It was all four of them. Gabe Del Marco, tall and stocky, sat on the same library couch Emma had unknowingly sat on a dozen times before. He had his arm draped casually around her mother. He was looking at her with eyes that shone with the deep contentment of a happy man.
Her mother was looking forward, one hand outstretched, a laugh on her lips, as she seemed to say something to the two children in front of her.
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