* * *
“Was it real?”
He sniffed bitterly. “Angelone gave me six months to figure that out. I wracked my brain for two weeks before I decided, fuck it. I’d been watching Donato Salvatore the entire time, learning everything I could about him. Every Tuesday night at eight o’clock, he went to the same restaurant and stayed an hour and twenty minutes before he left.”
The tone of his voice was lightening, like a weight was lifting off him. His eyes were clearer, and I wasn’t having to pull the vault door open; he was pushing it open so I could see inside.
“What did you do?” I asked, brushing his hair back from his forehead. “When you get desperate, you either curl up in a ball and hide or you face
things head on with guns blazing. So I went into the restaurant and walked right up to his table. If I thought Francesco Angelone was scary, Donato Salvatore was terrifying. He was sitting at a booth in the back, eating pasta all alone and reading the paper, but surrounded by bodyguards. The first time we looked at each other, I knew in that instant the man would save me, or he’d kill me.
“I faked being brave, looked him in the eye, and I told him I needed to speak with him. When he offered me the seat across from him, I took it, and I told him the truth. It was pure luck, V. The man had an arrangement with the FBI, and nobody knew it. They still don’t. My connection with Francesco Angelone and his desire for that black book, which turned out to be real, was exactly the in Donato needed. Once I proved myself, he treated me like a son, tried to take me into his home after he got me away from Angelone, but I needed to be on the streets for a while to remind myself what I wanted to get away from.”
He’d never openly acknowledged these associations before, even though I knew they existed. I also knew what he needed from me in this moment. “You did what you had to do to survive.”
His eyes widened in disbelief. “I’ve always been a little afraid you’d be disappointed in me. I never meant to be in this life, but it’s what happened. I’m just like my father no matter how I try to be anything but.”
“From what you’ve told me, you are nothing like him, Daniel. You refuse to acknowledge it, but you have a heart and a conscience. I see it every day, even though you’re very good at hiding it.”
* * *
“You brought that out in me. I never stood a chance before you.”
“Are you still close to Donato? Why haven’t you introduced me?” I didn’t hide the hurt in my voice at the thought of being hidden from someone important to Daniel.
He took my chin in his hand and tilted my head down, his eyes deadly serious. “Donato may have helped me, may be important to me—he may be one of the good guys on the right side of the law—but there are two people I don’t take any chances with. At the end of the day, he is still a Salvatore. I don’t trust anyone but me when it comes to you and Muriella.”
“You didn’t tell me about him because you know how curious I get,” I said, and he gave me a knowing look.
“You get something in your head, and you don’t let go, Princess.”
I cocked my head, wrinkling my nose. “Why the hell would Donato teach you about his business? Isn’t that the kind of thing that should stay in the family?”
Daniel smirked. “Eight children, all girls. He and his wife tried until she couldn’t bear any more children, and he never had a son.”
“I’m glad you have him. He’s your real father.”
He kissed me on the forehead and looked at me with just a little bit of wonder. “I never thought of it that way.”
“I hope I can meet him one day.”
“Don’t push it,” he said warily, gripping my hips.
I cocked my head to the side. “Why’d you say I’m too smart for my own good? Both of my guesses about why you brood on this day were wrong.”
He pulled me closer until our chests touched. “Because the last time I saw my father and the day he died are one and the same.”
* * *
DONATO. He could help me. He knew a side of Daniel I wasn’t well acquainted with. If I could get to know that facet of the man I loved, maybe I could figure out what was really going on in that head of his. Daniel would hate it, but he had let me go, so there was nothing he could do to stop me.
Chapter 18
VIVIAN
* * *
Eight Years Earlier
* * *
FORTY-FIVE MINUTES after we left my apartment and a state away, we pulled up on the tarmac at Teterboro Airport. A jet awaited our arrival. I looked at Daniel and then out the back window of the car. I didn’t know much about planes, but this looked at least as big as the commercial one I’d taken from Dallas to New York, maybe bigger.
“That yours?” I asked, sounding unimpressed when I wasn’t. It had nothing to do with the plane. Obviously, Daniel had put some thought into this day together, and that was what had my attention.
“It is. Suitable transportation for a princess, don’t you think?” “You tell me.”
He laughed and climbed out of the car, coming around the back to collect me.
We climbed the stairs, instantly greeted by two flight attendants, a pilot, and two co-pilots, all with pleasant smiles on their faces. The female pilot had a firm handshake, her demeanor all business with Daniel as she assured him we were ready to go.
* * *
Once we were settled in our seats, one of the cabin stewards served us each a glass of champagne and politely asked us to fasten our seatbelts.
“Cheers,” I said, clinking glasses with Daniel and taking a sip of the bubbly. “Is it too soon to ask where we might be going?”
“You can ask all you want, but you won’t get an answer.” He tossed back some of his champagne. “From anyone,” he emphasized, as if he knew I’d already been plotting a trip to the galley as a fishing expedition.
“How long will it take to get there?” I asked, my curiosity amping up.
“As long as it takes.” He nodded at my glass, still practically full of bubbles. I drank most of it in one swallow and then realized my toler‐ ance for alcohol had probably significantly diminished over the last few months. I rarely drank anything other than water or milk. Anything else was a luxury I simply couldn’t afford. “A frown already? We haven’t even gotten off the ground yet.”
I smiled. I couldn’t help it. This man was paying attention to my every move. “I’d better lay off. I don’t drink much anymore,” I offered, shaking my near empty glass. He nodded and took it from me, the flight attendant appearing right on cue to remove the stemware from the table.
The plane started to crawl, and I looked out the small window. The car that had ferried us here was long gone. When we reached the runway, the jet paused, taking a deep breath before shooting out of the starting blocks.
“Ready to go?” Daniel asked, and I nodded enthusiastically, beaming at him.
He winked at me, and my heart took off along with the plane as we rocketed down the runway and into the air.
FIVE HOURS later we made our descent, landing somewhere that had mountains and blue ocean, homes and buildings and cars nestled in between.
I started to stand, but Daniel stopped me with his hand. “We’re not there yet.”
“We’ve been gone over five hours. I guess you meant it when you said you wanted to spend the day with me.”
“Is it so bad that you’re counting the minutes?” he asked, totally deflecting what I really wanted to know…where in the world we were going.
“No,” I answered, pursing my lips. The time had flown by. We’d talked and teased each other, even played gin rummy until he got tired of losing.
“Mr. Elliott, we should be back in the air in about half an hour,” a steward informed us.
Someone from ground personnel delivered a bag. I watched the exchange with interest, but the bag was nondescript, so I had no clue what it might hold.
“I have to give you points for creativity.” Daniel’s eyes twinkled at
this. “At least in the air there’s a very slim chance I’ll try to ditch you. Although I think we should at least deplane while we’re wherever we are before we head back.”
His smile broadened. “How are you so sure I wasn’t going to ditch you?” he challenged, and I crossed my arms.
“There’s not a chance in hell of that happening.” I didn’t think either of us really wanted to go anywhere.
The flight attendant approached with a tray, a silver domed plate sitting atop it. He placed it in front of me and lifted the lid. Pancakes, bacon, and a glass bottle of syrup.
I looked at him incredulously, and his cheeks stained pink. “You mentioned you wanted pancakes the other day.”
I’d said it in passing, but he was listening. My heart did a flip-flop before I dove right in, pouring syrup all over the stack, letting it soak into the pancakes. I looked at him in disbelief, shoving a bite into my mouth. “I take it they’re to your liking?”
I chewed, letting the food melt on my palate before swallowing. “Taste,” I insisted, cutting off a large bite and holding it up to his mouth.
He accepted and nodded his approval. “Excellent.”
“I’ve had pancakes for dinner, but I don’t think I’ve ever had them for lunch,” I mused, tearing off a piece of bacon with my teeth. “Oh my God. That’s the best bacon that’s ever graced my lips.” I held the strip in front of his mouth, and he took a bite.
“Hope it was worth the wait,” he said, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear so it didn’t drag in the syrup.
“Thank you,” I said softly. I meant for everything. This had to be costing a fortune, and even if it was unusual for a first date, I liked it. We were forced to get to know one another better because there was nothing else to do. And the more I got to know this man, the more I liked.
“IF I HAD KNOWN we were doing this, I’d have brought my pajamas,” I commented once we were back in the air.
“Would you like to change? We still have a bit of a journey ahead of us.”
“That would be nice, but what I’m wearing is all I brought.”
“I asked Muriella to select something for you. I thought she might know better what you would like,” he said almost shyly, and that threw me completely for a loop. Daniel was not shy. Quiet? Yes. Shy? No.
“That could be a frightening proposition,” I commented, widening my eyes as if I was terrified.
“I haven’t seen it, so we’ll both be surprised,” he said, already moving me down the center hallway to the bedrooms. “Everything you need should be in there.” He pointed at a built-in chest of drawers and then backed out, closing the door behind him.
Curious, I opened the top drawer. There were only two items in it—a T-shirt from the 1997 US Open and a pair of plaid pajama bottoms that appeared to be well worn. This woman and I were cut from the same cloth, and I sent her a silent thank you for knowing exactly what I would like.
When I returned to the main cabin, Daniel did a double take when he saw my attire. I swear he cursed Muriella’s name under his breath, but I was too far away to hear for certain. These items were personal to him. I knew that the instant I saw them, but as soon as I’d slipped them on, it felt right. I noticed, though, that he hadn’t changed out of his jeans and shirt.
“This is supposed to be a pajama party,” I said, playfully patting his cheek a couple of times.
“Princess, I don’t wear pajamas.” That sent a tremor through me that sparked a fever. “Now come with me. I want to show you my favorite spot.” He didn’t wait for a response, simply took my hand as if he had the right and led me through the plane.
The room was dim and had a dark chocolate sectional sofa with a giant ottoman in front of it and enough pillows to stock a Bed, Bath, and Beyond. The wall across from the sofa appeared to be a giant video screen. I flopped down on the sofa, making myself at home, and he walked over to a built-in control panel near the screen, bringing it to life.
“Super Mario Bros!” I said as the game credits started. Daniel tossed me a controller, which I caught with one hand, impressing him with my reflexes. “I’m Mario.”
“I don’t think so,” he said, sinking down next to me.
“Aren’t you trying to impress me?” I asked, turning my head toward him.
He looked me square in the eyes. “No. Just because I’ve let you have your way most of the time, doesn’t mean I always will,” he cautioned before returning to the game, setting it up in two-player mode.
“It doesn’t matter if I’m Mario or Luigi. I’m still going to kick your ass.”
“You think so?”
“I know so.” I clapped my hands and rubbed them together with glee. “I haven’t played this game in forever.”
“Neither have I.”
That familiar music started, and since he was Mario, he got to go first. I patiently awaited my turn, living up to all the boasting I was doing.
My excitement grew when we got to the third world, and I was up. Daniel was beyond impressed I knew the trick to rack up an infinite amount of lives; the surprised look on his face was priceless. I gave him a knowing smile, and he shook his head as if nothing I did could catch him unawares at this point.
“All right, I’ll bite,” he said. “How did you get so good?”
“Not too shabby for a girl, am I?” I couldn’t stop grinning. “How did you know I loved this game?”
“I asked you a question first,” he said, concentrating on the screen. “Shit.” He’d almost jumped into a green pipe with one of the things that popped up and spit fire. “You’re all right,” he conceded, capturing the flag to get to the next level.
“The only kids close to my age in the neighborhood where I grew up were the boys next door. If I couldn’t keep up, they wouldn’t let me play.”
“Bet that changed as you got older.”
I cut my eyes over to Daniel and missed a jump over a beetle, turning back into a little Luigi. “Damn.”
Daniel snickered. “If you’d been my daughter, I sure as hell wouldn’t have let you play with the boys next door.”
“My parents didn’t care.” I found a mushroom in the game and got big again. “Unless I interfered with their plans.”
“What plans?” Daniel’s tone turned serious.
I finished my level and tossed the controller on the sofa beside me. I studied him for a moment as he started his turn. Did I want to get into this with him? I pulled my knees to my chest and rested my chin on top.
“Apparently, we still live in the sixteenth century in Texas,” I started dryly, “because once I was old enough, my parents arranged a marriage for me.”
Daniel paused the game, his eyes fierce when he looked at me. “You’re married?”
* * *
I wrinkled my nose. “God, no. But if it were up to them, I would be.”
“That’s why you came to New York,” he surmised.
“No. I came to New York because I earned the internship with Hamerstein. It just happened to conveniently be far away from Dallas.” I stared at the floor as bitterness crept up on me.
“Why didn’t your betrothed come with you?” he gritted out, and I jerked my head toward him in surprise.
“I never let it get that far. Even if I hadn’t gotten the internship, I wouldn’t have.”
He relaxed a fraction at that. “Not the marrying kind?”
“I wanted to be an accountant. You’d think that my parents would have figured out by now that when I want something, I don’t stop until I get it.” When had they ever really taken the time to get to know me anyway? “Instead of being proud of me for the internship, my dad was pissed off.”
“Because you didn’t conform to the plan?”
“Yeah, I guess.” I threw up my hands. “Who knows? I was fool enough to date the guy they wanted me to marry.” I scrubbed my hand across my forehead. “I thought they wanted me with him because he’d be good to me. Because they wanted me to find happiness. What if I hadn
’t figured out what a jackass he was?”
“Did he hurt you?” Daniel growled.
I shook my head. “No. No. Nothing like that.” I took in a deep breath and angled my body toward his. “Have you ever felt like a pawn in a game you didn’t know you were playing?”
His eyes softened. “All too well.”
“When I graduated from SMU a few months ago, I thought I was on my way. But being near the top of my class wasn’t enough for them.” I grabbed a pillow and shoved it between my legs and my chest. “Dad didn’t care if I got a degree. He just wanted me to marry Johnny Caldwell so he could get all of his daddy’s business.”
“And your mother didn’t try to stop it?”
I lifted my eyes toward the ceiling. “The only thing my mother worries about is how much gin is left in the bottle. And meddling in my father’s affairs.” I sighed and picked at a string on the corner of the pillow. “That’s not really fair. She cares about me the best she knows how.”
Daniel’s fist balled on his leg. “Where does this alliance stand?”
“It doesn’t. DeGraw Electrical Supply and Caldwell Construction will have to continue as before. I’m not marrying Johnny. I’m not going back to Dallas to be a puppet, despite that my daddy thinks I’ll crawl back on my knees,” I finished with a scowl.
“If he tries to force you—”
“He won’t even speak to me.” I set the pillow aside. “I don’t get it. He already does a ton of business with the Caldwells. Why does it matter if I marry into their family?”
“It cements the relationship.”
“I think Mr. Caldwell must have offered him a piece of the company or something. Which would be huge considering they’re one of the biggest contractors in the state.” It was the only thing that made sense, but I’d kept a distance from my father’s business.
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