Between the Abandonato family and the Nicolasi family.
I hereby swear upon death that if it is within my power to join Valentina’s hand in marriage to Sergio Abandonato, I will make it so, or let my soul burn for an eternity.
“I’m BETROTHED?” I yelled, looking up.
“Not just betrothed.” Oh, now Gio speaks up? “You are promised to Sergio… to—” he swallowed “—one of the most powerful Mafia families in the Cosa Nostra. If Dante does not take his rightful place, you will be marrying the new boss to Frank Alfero’s Empire.”
I burst out laughing.
Nobody joined me.
My laughter faded. “You can’t be serious!” I pushed to my feet. “Is this a prank? Mob boss? Cosa Nostra?” I scanned the room for hidden cameras, because, come on! Mafia? Did that even exist anymore? The idea was laughable. Why was everyone still sitting? “Guys! The joke’s up, come on, whose idea was this?”
Nobody moved.
Finally, Dante spoke, “Val, it’s real.”
I frowned. “Dante, seriously…”
“Damn it, Val!” Dante’s voice rose. “Our father was Luca Nicolasi! One of the most lethal mob bosses in history! Frank is your damn uncle!” He pointed at Frank who managed to look at least a bit sad.
The lines in Frank’s face drew into a scowl. “You could have said that better, Dante.”
“Better she know than assume it’s a joke. I wish.” He put his hands on his head and turned around in a circle then faced me. “Val…” His nostrils flared. “I kept it from you to protect you, all right? I would never purposefully—”
“All of you?” I stumbled back, jerking away from him. “All of you knew? This whole time? And I was in the dark?”
Choking on a cry, I stared at each of my uncles, none of them could look me in the face, even Frank had averted his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.
Dante swore and punched a hole in the kitchen wall.
Dust settled at his feet.
And Sergio simply stood there. In the same spot. Staring.
“How long have you known?” I directed my question at him.
“Eight weeks.”
“And you’ve waited that long to tell me! What kind of person are you? You could have at least given me warning! Oh look hi, I’m Sergio, I OWN you!”
“My apologies,” Sergio said in a tense voice. “I must have been too busy taking care of my cancer-ridden wife. How selfish of me.” He moved toward me with a cat like grace, predatory, like he was going to pounce. “You’re right, I should have texted you the minute she died and told you the good news.”
“I—”
“Say you’re sorry and I won’t hesitate to shoot something.”
I lifted my chin as tears clogged my throat. “Shoot something. Just make sure it’s not a human. And I am sorry. There, I said it. Because as much as this sucks…” It was nearly impossible to keep the tears of sadness and frustration away, and I finished in a whisper, “That’s worse.”
His lips parted a bit and then he turned on his heel and stomped out of the room.
“Is he really going to shoot something?” I asked the room.
“Probably,” Frank answered then held out his hand. “Val, let’s go for a walk, shall we?”
“Am I safe with you?”
“I’m a wonderful shot.”
I narrowed my eyes and assessed him. “I bet you are.”
He offered a polite smile. “You’re my niece, I would protect you with my life.”
At least he was willing to give me something. My uncles were still staring daggers into the table as if it was going to come alive and start spouting Shakespeare. “Fine.”
“Good girl.” He kissed my hand. “I promise, it’s not so bad as it seems.”
“Oh?”
“Actually…” He winced. “I’m afraid it’s worse.”
And though she be but little, she is fierce! —A Midsummer Night’s Dream
Sergio
CEMENT.
Gravel.
Pavement.
Streetlights.
I exhaled slowly, the shaky breath staggering in puffs of white in the freezing air as I leaned against the brick wall in the narrow alleyway. The winter chill should have been powerful enough to choke the life out of me, but I felt nothing.
Except a keen numbness that had me, once again, wondering what the hell I was doing in New York. I wasn’t making things better. I’d already beaten up a few old men, threatened to shoot people in front of a girl who’d never seen violence a day in her life, and that was with me trying to control myself.
God help us all if I truly lost my shit.
I wiped my face with my hands then focused on a tiny crack in the wall. Life was easier that way — it was the only way I knew how to handle the tumultuous emotions surging through me, focus on small, don’t think about the bigger picture.
So I focused on pieces.
I focused on cracks in the pavement.
The dust of a few scattered rocks the cement at my heel.
It was the same way I looked at Val. My efforts, so far, had been working, ignore her body and face as a whole, but hands? Yeah, I could stare at her hands, she had three scars on her pointer finger, I assumed it was from thorns in the roses she often arranged.
She had a dimple in her right cheek that, on first glance, looked like another scar, but really was just a really deep indent that made her appear even more innocent than she was.
Her hair was dark brown.
But, when she tilted her head at different angles, shots of gold shimmered.
She was short.
Not as short as Andi, but short enough that I knew my presence would be extremely intimidating to her.
Pieces.
I looked at pieces.
Never her smile, only her teeth.
Eyes were fine, as long as she didn’t lock gazes with me too long and, really, I was confident that even if she touched me for a prolonged period of time, I’d be okay.
It wasn’t that she wasn’t striking — she was Luca’s blood through and through, she had his hazel like ghost eyes, so light that they almost seemed white at times, and she had Joyce’s smile.
I’d bet it killed Frank.
And that’s when it killed me — this wasn’t just his niece, this was his wife’s daughter.
Damn me.
I’d been outside having a near nervous breakdown over the fact that I had to marry the girl — a mere eight weeks after my wife’s death, mind you — and Frank had just met his wife’s son and daughter.
His brother’s children.
The last thing he needed was my emotional baggage to go along with it. I kicked the wall one last time and was just about to turn the corner when I saw Frank and Val on the porch of the brownstone.
I held back.
They sat down in the cold, Frank on the top stair, Val, too, but as far away from him as possible, nearly underneath the railing, her arms wrapped around the post as if it was enough to protect her from a man like him.
“You’re upset,” Frank said in a bland tone.
I rolled my eyes. No shit she was upset, old man! She’d just been told that her family was mafia royalty, what normal, innocent girl wouldn’t be upset when you exchanged their iPhone for a gun and told them to make sure they always sit in booths when going out to eat?
Once you knew your own blood, it was impossible to go back.
The chilling knowledge of her heritage alone would make sure of that. She’d always watch her back from here on out, never stand in line at Starbucks, and, when she walked home at night, she would always think she was being followed.
Mafia breeds paranoia.
As well as insanity.
They go hand in hand, but they also keep you alive.
“I’m in shock,” she finally said, her eyes meeting his. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and ducked her head, staring down at her shoes. “My whole life is a lie.”
Dramatic, but true.
I frowned as she chewed on her lower lip, sucking it into her mouth only to release it.
A strange mixture of anger and lust jolted through me like lightning.
The wrongness of the emotion started a cold sweat as I continued to eavesdrop.
“We thought it best to protect you. Luca was a very dangerous man. He was also convinced you could never live a normal life if you lived under his roof. He knew something must be done. You were raised until the age of five in Italy. I’m sure you remember fragments.” He sighed, his breath swirled around his head. “There were two death threats against you and Dante… I’ll never forget the night my brother called me to say he needed to put you both in hiding. The only people I could think of…” He glanced back at the house. “Were also, at the time, not my biggest fans.”
“At the time?” She joked.
“Yeah well…” Frank chuckled. “Blood is blood. They had no choice, and they adopted you as if you were their own.” He angled his head and studied her. “You have been happy, no?”
After a few seconds, she nodded.
“And you’ve been well taken care of?”
Another curt nod.
“Believe me when I say, the last thing I want to do is ruin your future, but it was your father’s dying wish that you not only know him, but that you join the Family. By joining through marriage you are automatically—”
Val covered her mouth with her hand and laughed.
Frank frowned.
I stared harder. Had she just laughed? At Frank Alfero?
“I’m so sorry!” Val laughed harder. “I laugh when I’m nervous. I just… it’s kind of funny right? I read, Frank. That’s what I do.”
“I don’t think I understand.”
“My excitement in life.” She smiled again to herself. “Was reading, mainly historical romance. Women had no power in Regency England. They couldn’t even own property. Did you know that once they were married both the church and crown only recognized them as property of whomever had wed them?”
Frank shook his head.
“Marriages were formed based on wealth, power, protection, prestige.” A wry smile curved her lips. “Are you telling me the same thing, Frank? Am I supposed to marry Sergio for all of those reasons? Or is there more?”
Frank shifted on the step.
I waited to see what he would say. Because there was so much more to that story — to the real reason we were here, to why it was imperative that they join the ranks.
“Sergio doesn’t need you, not emotionally, not financially, not physically.”
She jerked back as if she’d been punched but kept her mouth shut.
“He has more money than he knows what to do with, used to work for the FBI, is an expert hacker, and now that his wife is dead…” He shook his head. “…he honors her memory by staring at walls.”
Thanks, Frank. Glowing review.
“The last time I saw him laugh it was forced, and I fear I have already lost him. Then again, nobody ever had Sergio — nobody but his wife, because even before her, there was an emotional detachment in his killings and dealings. He is not a safe man, nor a sane one, Val.”
I curled my hands into fists. What the hell!
“But,” continued Frank, his gaze growing intense, “he will protect you with his life — and more importantly, he will protect you with his name. For someone to make a murder attempt on an Abandonato is to invite the Cappo and the rest of the five families to wipe out that person’s entire existence, and not just the person foolish enough to try… but the rest of the blood line, and the best part?” He paused. “Our Cappo, he thirsts for blood. He’s like a lion, barely tamed by his wife, only able to stay trapped inside the four walls of his house for hours if she keeps him…” He coughed. “Occupied.”
She stared at him for a long moment. “What’s a Cappo?”
Frank chuckled to himself. “I forget you know nothing.” He leaned back against the stairs. “I guess in your world that would be like our Godfather, though it pains me to say it, considering Tex is only twenty-five, hardly my elder.”
“Twenty-five?” Val repeated. “How old is everyone else?”
“I’m the oldest.” Frank’s voice was grave. “The last.”
“The last?”
His posture stiffened. “Of the Original bosses.” He turned to her. “And so help me God, I will leave this earth seeing my promises made to my dead brother, do you understand? Run away, I will find you. Fight it, you will lose. Listen carefully, because this is the only situation where my love for your father trumps my love for you — because I owe him, more than you’ll ever imagine — you will marry Sergio, you will join the Family. You will do it with a smile on your face because you are a Nicolasi, you are our future, and you will make your father proud.”
Hell is empty and all the devils are here.—A Midsummer Night’s Dream
Frank
I WAS BEING too direct. Too cold.
I didn’t know how else to be.
Trace would be disappointed in me — but I could not find it in myself to do anything more — or to offer Val an escape, away from the promises made.
Promises owed.
Blood promises, that’s what those papers in my folder held. After all, Sergio wasn’t the only one with a list, checking off tiny little boxes, exhaling in relief each time he did so.
I too had my boxes.
My list.
My bag of tricks.
I would not stand by again and watch The Alferos fall.
There is a certain finality, a harsh realization when you age, when your reflection in the mirror starts to truly appear the same way you feel in your chest.
Legacies are like the wind, you may not see them, but they are there, constantly altering the course of the weather.
Joyce had always said that I was a cold bastard when I wanted to be, and she was right. I was.
But it was time — my time.
A man feels these things in his bones. Hell, I even felt it in the air as I left Val alone on the stairs and made my way back into the house, my footsteps announcing my arrival into the kitchen.
“She will marry two days from now,” I announced. “But first, mass tomorrow.”
Gio’s eyes locked on mine. “Why do you do this, Frank?”
“It is what he wanted.”
“She would have been safer not knowing,” Papi chimed in. “We can keep her safe.”
Time for the cold heartless bastard.
“Gentleman.” I pressed my hands against the table and leaned over it. “Our time, it is coming to an end.”
Silence.
“A new generation is here.”
“We have heard rumors,” Gio whispered. “Rumors of the wars between families…”
“Vito Campisi was shot by his own son in the chest.” I sighed. “Nixon Abandonato has been boss in Chicago for three years now. Chase, his brother, helps Mil De Lange run the De Lange family, and the Nicolasis?”
“Phoenix De Lange,” Sal said in reverence. “A man of many secrets.”
“A man you don’t want to piss off,” I said. “My point is this… it is in the wind, it is no longer our time, and we can no longer sit idly by.” I glared at all three of them. “Sit on our own secrets, and refuse to help the new members as they rise up and take control of the families. We have the heritage of our families to think about. Do not fight me on this or you will have a very unfortunate accident that the coroner will no doubt excuse as old age, capiche?”
“Capiche?” Sal coughed while Gio and Papi muttered and crossed their arms.
“Now…” I sat and exhaled. “Where is the wine?”
Papi chuckled. “It is ten in the morning.”
I simply stared.
Gio nodded. “I forget this about you, Frank. Real men drink at ten, this is why I do not kill you.”
Sal stood, walked over to the cabinet, and pulled out a bottle. “One or two—”
/> “Three,” Frank interrupted. “It’s going to be a long weekend.”
The lunatic, the lover, and the poet, are of imagination all compact. –A Midsummer Night’s Dream
Valentina
WITH SHAKING HANDS, I read the next letter.
I’ll continue the story about the prince. I know you enjoy reading. It was really the only way I figured you would get it or truly understand. Again, only one page a day, and you’ll know what to do when there are no more pages.
There was a certain wildness about the prince. He was at times cruel, turning his beauty into a beast, and yet, he had moments of such tenderness that the princess wanted to cry. Was he simply wild in need of taming? No. Do not do it. Do not tame the beast. Allow him to be wild. You do not tame a lion, but it is possible to befriend it, to lie down next to it and know with a certainty that the lion will protect you while you sleep. Let him be fierce. You need fierce in your life, Valentina. Today, is a new day, you have many challenges ahead, do not forget to enjoy the simple things — like dancing in the rain.
All my love,
R
I re-read the letter over again.
It made no sense.
Who was this mysterious R, and why was she — since I’d already decided it was a girl — writing me about this prince? I had to admit, after today, it was a much needed distraction, it was just… weird.
An authoritative knock on my door made me jump. I quickly shoved the letter under my mattress and stood. “Come in.”
Sergio swept in the room, his look thunderous.
I fought the urge to cower in his presence. He had times where he appeared so… fierce. Like the lion I’d just read about.
“Yes?”
“I wanted to set the record straight.” His voice was cold.
“Okay.” I licked my lips and braced myself for the impact of his words.
“Wait.” He frowned. “What the hell are you doing?”
I looked down. “What do you mean?”
“You’re all—” he waved his hand in front of me, irritation creasing his brow “—rigid.”
“Oh.” I nodded. “I’m preparing myself for your roar.” I laughed at my own joke. He didn’t. Eh, tough crowd.
Empire (Eagle Elite Book 7) Page 7
