Fall (A Mafia Crime Family Romance)

by Bella Love-Wins

  “Please. Stop.”

  “What? Too soon?” she asks in feign innocence, joining Cassandra in muffled laughter.

  “Way too soon.”

  How about now?”

  "Fuck. This conversation is… so gross." I let my eyes narrow to thin slits at their comments about Father, but they seem intent on staying on the topic. So I do the only thing that they salivate about more than man talk. "Oh! Fashion alert, ladies. Guess what I found for us in Italy?"

  That announcement steals their attention. “What?” they ask in unison.

  “Three pairs of white leather Moschino slingback stilettos… in all our shoe sizes.” I point at the shopping bags beside my unopened suitcases. “Go get ’em, girls.”

  Thank goodness my girls love fashion. Their oohs and ahs finally drown out all the drooling over the men who are all wrong for them. While they're raiding my summer shopping booty, the stylists push open the door as they return from their breaks, and for the third time today, my eyes meet Antonio's.

  This time, I don’t want to look away.

  “I’ll be back in a bit, bitches. Take anything you want. Shoes, clothes, swimwear. Go wild.”

  Sliding out of the stylists’ chair, I head for the door to get answers.

  Antonio knows what’s going on.

  One way or another, I’m going to make him talk.

  "Antonio, do you have a minute?" I ask, motioning toward the library doors on the other side of the hallway. "Privately, if you don't mind."

  “Can it wait? I’m busy right now,” he informs me over his shoulder, only slowing down a bit as he heads to the front of the house.

  "I promise not to take up too much of your time," I say. Gripping his wrist, I use my entire body weight to pull him into the library with me, the way I used to do when I was younger, and he was my bodyguard. Back then, he'd tolerate my girlish playfulness. Today, he's not budging. I couldn't move him an inch if he doesn't want me to. The man is a wall of bulging muscle, bigger and broader than Father.

  “Your party’s starting soon. Lots left to do out front.”

  “I’ll just be a second. Please, Antonio. This can’t wait.”

  “Fine.” he follows me into the library and shuts the door behind him, then folds his arms, on edge as he waits for me to get it over with.

  “What’s going on?” I ask, forgetting pleasantries and getting right to the point.

  “I can’t tell you anything that your father doesn’t want me to say to you.”

  “Come on,” I beg. “I just want to know how bad it is.”

  “There’s nothing to tell.” His voice is flat and reveals nothing.

  “Please?"

  He must hear my genuine concern because he unfolds his arms and takes two ground eating steps toward me. “You have nothing to worry about except to be ready for your party. This is your day. Try to enjoy it, all right?”

  “I'm scared for Father,” I admit, and this time, I don’t do a thing to mask the weakness in my tone.

  “Listen to me.” He holds my shoulders and stares down into my face. I’m shocked at the way heat warms my lower belly, and my nipples start to ache under my bra all of a sudden. All because he’s standing so close. “While I’m around, I won’t let anything bad happen to him, your grandmother, or you. Okay?”

  “It’s serious. I just want to know,” I persist, trying to focus on everything but the way my body is reacting to him.

  “Don’t. When he’s ready to talk, he will. You know what he’s like. Surviving in this business is all about timing. Let him tell you in his own time.”

  “Shit. You’re really not gonna tell me?”

  He smiles and slowly shakes his head left to right. “Your party guests are arriving soon. Go on, gorgeous. Get ready.”

  “Fine.” Annoyed, I push past him and return to my room.

  This is bullshit.

  No one’s talking.

  The last time the house felt this way, my mother was taken from me. The longer they withhold their answers, the more I think that someone else in my tight circle will be taken from this world.

  Whether it’s me or not, I don’t know.

  But there’s one thing I’m sure of.

  When fate has its grip on you, no amount of hiding, fighting or running will make it go away.

  7

  Antonio

  Natalia has no idea who she’s dealing with.

  She thinks she can convince me to disobey orders with a smile and that sweet was she says please, but it’s her father we’re talking about. This set of instructions coming down the pipe is about everyone’s safety.

  Life and death. Including her own.

  Plus, I know my place.

  Orders are orders.

  Just because he treats me like one of his own, doesn’t give me license to do what I want. I’m the only one from the protection detail that’ll sit at the dinner table tonight for Natalia’s party. It’s only because my kid brothers and I spent over thirteen years under Romano’s sister and brother-in-law’s roof. We’re not blood, but we’re practically family. Romano saw to it that my little brothers had a shot at a normal life. They’re both at Florida State now, on football scholarships and well on their way to solid careers in the NFL instead of having to fight for scraps, which is where we were headed after Mom died, no thanks to the fucking system.

  Romano was the one who helped me keep my word after Vinny had my back for that potential manslaughter charge. He plucked Vinny out of the foster care system and placed him in a good home with one of his top protection guards at the time.

  I won’t take what Romano did for us for granted. Even if it means saying no to Natalia. I’m still coming to terms with the fact that I probably won’t ever have a chance to lay claim on this woman, or to sink my cock into her before she leaves for God knows how long.

  But that’s life. A string of peaks and valleys, including shitty outcomes that are out of anyone’s control.

  I cross the small field beside the house on my way to the protection detail staff members' sleeping quarters, passing by a rush of last-minute activity by the event staff who all have new instructions. The guest list of the party they were planning for has been whittled down from a hundred and fifty people to around twenty. The tent outside has to come down. Dinner will be served inside now, in the ballroom. And two of the three live bands they booked had to be cut from the schedule too. The head caterer and the lead decorator didn't like the changes, but everyone has to deal when new orders come down from the boss.

  Everyone including me. Which is why I’m looking for Vinny. There are so many moving parts to stay on top of, and everything is a priority. This party tonight, travel plans for each family member, and a fuck ton of contingencies for every detail we’re implementing.

  I can’t be in two places at once. I need at least one man from my team to step up.

  Someone I trust.

  I find Vinny in his room with the door open.

  “Hey, I need your help with something,” I tell him from the doorway, looking around his quarters. His army training shows. The quaint space is spotless and organized. Nothing’s out of place. But the temperature in there is hot as fuck. “Dude, something wrong with your air conditioning unit? It’s hot as balls in here.”

  “Naw, man. I hate the noise from the air-con… can’t hear what’s going on around me when it’s on. Plus I like it hot.” He turns from his spot at a two-person dining table, revealing the disassembled Smith and Wesson 1911 .45 ACP pistol on the tabletop in front of him as he cleans each part. “What’s up?”

  “You’ve got a valid passport, right?” I ask.

  Vinny glances over at me for a second, eyebrows raised, then continues maintaining his weapon. “Yeah, why?”

  “The boss is gonna need three to four of the guys to be with him and the family. They’re traveling for a while. I want you to head up the team.”

  His head snaps around to me again. “Where to?”

 
"It's on a need-to-know basis for now," I explain what I can, keeping all details to a minimum.

  “Understood. Sure, I’m in. Whatever you need.”

  I lean against the door jamb. “It’s a big responsibility. You’ll be in charge of protection.”

  “Who are we talking about? Just the boss?”

  “And his mother… and Natalia.”

  Vinny sets down the weapon parts and cleaning rag, and takes a long moment as he studies my face. “You’re not going?”

  “I can’t. I have to stay back to keep an eye on a few things for the boss.”

  A half smile rises on his face for a split second, then disappears. “And you cleared my name with the boss?”

  “Yes,” I confirm.

  “What happened with the bit about my being too unprofessional?” he scoffs out the question, cocking his head to one side.

  “Yeah. That’s fucking gotta stop. But trust and competence are a different story. I trust your skills. I know you’ll put your own life on the line to keep them safe. That’s why I need you to do this.”

  “Of course, man. I’m here to serve. Never had a problem with working for you or the boss.”

  “It sounds like there’s more. Is there more?”

  “Not really. It’s just… I never thought you had it in you to let her go.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” I grunt out, my anger building.

  “Jesus, Antonio,” He mumbles. He drags his chair backward and gets to his feet, crossing the room to the chest of drawers beside the door. “Don’t fucking shoot the messenger. It’s obvious she wants you. And anyone with eyes can tell you got something for her too.”

  “We have priorities. None of them include putting Natalia’s or my ass on the line because of feelings.”

  After reaching into the top drawer and groping around, he withdraws his hand, holding a passport. "Got it. Okay, I'm set. But Antonio, just remember… some things... no, some people are worth the fucking headache.”

  “You and I ain’t gonna see eye to eye on the subject, so drop it.”

  He clears his throat for effect. “Whatever. It’s your ass.”

  “Make sure you watch yours too,” I warn him. “If you let the boss down while you’re on this assignment, that’s on you.”

  “Trust me.” He meets my eyes. “I don’t do messy. I’ve been trained for this shit, remember?”

  I nod because I know he does. He lives for this kind of work. “Don’t shit the bed and I’ll believe you.”

  “I fucking won’t, all right? Do you want me to choose my protection crew from the rest of the guys?”

  I nod. “Make sure you double check all their passports. You leave in a couple of days.”

  He slaps down the passport and stretches out his arm toward me, his hand in a fist. He waits for me to give it a bump, but this isn’t the time for fun and games. Smiling, he lowers his arm and taps his index finger on the rim of the open drawer. “Jesus. Will you relax for a goddamn second? Have a little faith.”

  “I’ll relax when we’re on the other side of this situation with everyone still breathing,” I mutter. “Hey, I know I just sent you off on a break, but do me a favor and have the guys do a sweep after all the party planners leave. Can’t be too careful.”

  “I’m way ahead of you,” he informs me. “I’ve got two men on it now, and they’ll make rounds again in a bit. I also left orders with the gate staff. They’ve been searching every vehicle before letting them enter the premises since morning.”

  “Excellent. Good work,” I tell him, and step through the doorway to leave.

  “Have fun at the party,” Vinny shouts after me.

  “Keep your eyes peeled while I do,” I shoot back.

  I return to the main house, my body on edge as I drown out the sounds of departing catering trucks and florist vans. Guests will start to arrive within the hour. The threat is real, and the cost of a mistake is way too high. No matter how small the guest list is. More than anything, I have to do my part to ensure everything runs like clockwork.

  When I push open the front door of the main house, I'm greeted by one of my men who came to let me know Romano wants to see me in his tailor's onsite fitting room. I arrive there to find him with the tailor, as well as his consiglieri and the accountant. They must've gotten here while I was with over at the staff quarters. It's yet another reason I need someone like Vinny to be my eyes and ears.

  “You wanted to see me, boss?” I announce myself at the door.

  "Sit over there. I'll be done in a minute." Romano's face is thoughtful and his voice apprehensive and gravelly as he stands in the middle of the modern, sun-filled room. The mirror at the far wall only accentuates the resolve on Romano's face. His tailor circles him, the sixty-something-year-old fussing in Italian only as he makes the final fitting adjustments for yet another custom three-piece suit, this one for the party tonight.

  Taking a seat, I lean back into the soft leather guest chair closest to the bay window. Sunlight floods in from behind me, enveloping the dim yellow glow of the light from the fancy cream lampshade of a shoulder-height pewter floor lamp on my left. The subtle movement in my peripheral vision catches my attention in the silent space. I turn to one side and realize it's the almost see-through window drapes, the softly swaying decor that has set off mental alarm bells in my head. Maybe I'm just paranoid. Or hyper-vigilant, as the boss like to say. I'm noticing everything as I remain still, waiting for Romano to speak. Like the cool draft blowing up the back of my neck that causes me to turn and check behind me again, this time for any open windows. Lifting the drapes slightly, I scan up to the ceiling and down to the floor. That brief once-over tells me what I need to know. The air movement isn't from any of the windows, which are all closed. It's coming from an air conditioning unit that this southern side of the house needs desperately at this time of year.

  Relaxing once more, I take a breath and wait. I have a sinking feeling there’s more news coming. He wouldn’t ask for me just so I can be a fly on the wall while he talks to his oldest friend and consiglieri, Lorenzo Pinucci, and the man’s son, Cristiano, the new accountant. A part of me wants Romano to forget the tailor and kick off the meeting so I can have the update already. Being patient isn’t an issue for me, but on an intense day like today, I can’t deny that mine is starting to wear thin.

  But I know my place, and I know how he operates.

  First, Romano will talk when he’s good and ready.

  Second, he'll tell us what we need to know when we need to be aware of it. Nothing more, and not a second sooner.

  Because in most cases, ignorance is safer than knowing.

  You can’t screw up what you have no fucking clue about.

  After the tailor has what he needs to fix the suit, he leaves us, heading into a small inner room off to one side of the space.

  “All right,” Romano speaks up. He takes a seat in the chair closest to mine, facing the Pinuccis. “What did you want to update us about?”

  Lorenzo crossed his legs and shifts around uncomfortably in his chair. “Well, boss, long story short, the Cape May development deal is at risk.”

  “I thought that was in the bag?” Romano probes.

  "It was. I suppose it can still be finalized if we secure another partner. Mauro was supposed to have a twenty-two percent capital stake on the front end. He just sent word through his lawyers that he's stepping back from all new projects in North America. Projects like ours in the pipeline should've been fine, but he's…"

  “He’s making a statement.” Romano is pensive, running one hand along the faint stubble that has begun to dust his chin. “The seven days to follow orders doesn’t apply here, I see.”

  Lorenzo shakes his head with disapproval. “It’s a clear message.”

  “Cristiano, have you looked into whether we can find a new backer or ask the other investors to add to their contributions?”

  “Yes, sir. I’ve also checked our other holdings. If
you’re open to it, you can probably handle taking out another ten percent from the offshore trading account to increase your stake.”

  The boss doesn’t seem too enthused about that idea. “We need to keep some padding while I’m off the grid. Liquid assets are more important than ever right now.”

  “I agree,” Lorenzo replies. “We don’t know how long you’ll be away. Months, a year or more… It’s best to err on the side of caution.”

  A year?

  I swallow hard at the thought of being in charge for that long. It's not that I'm unwilling. Fuck no. The thing is, it's harder than it looks, minding a shop when the owner is away. Keeping a holding pattern for that long is going to be a big challenge. We have no more support from the higher-ups in Italy. Those men we knew, trusted, shared our secrets with, and reported up the chain to, well, they've suddenly gone from being allies to rivals.

  “Do we already own the land?” Lorenzo asks.

  “No,” Cristiano says, scrolling through what must be a financial report file or some app on his phone. “We’ve put two percent in escrow. The closing date is in two months.”

  “Kill it,” Romano says.

  “Boss, we can’t just back out of that deal,” Lorenzo advises him in a shaky voice. “Some of our investors have made commitments.”

  “And they can un-make them,” Romano tells him. “Losing two percent is nothing compared to having a project of that scale sit idly while we try to scrape enough money together to break ground. It’s off. We don’t know how bad things will escalate. Inform all the investors tomorrow. Now is not the time to start new capital projects.”

  “All right. I’ll take care of it.”

  “Is there anything else? My daughter’s eighteen today. I’ve spent enough time on Mauro. It’s time to celebrate with the family we still have.”

  I have to hand it to the man. He’s decisive. I’ve seen this man in action for years. His biggest talent is stepping back and looking at a problem from ten thousand feet, then making a decision. No one else that I’ve ever met can size up people and problems this quickly. And he has no regrets either.