Merciful Vows: A Bittersweet Second Chance Romantic Suspense (The Giannotti World Book 1)

by Vanessa Luisa

  The little girl sighted who was believed to be Addilyn…isn’t. The little girl, whose name is Madison Clark, was with her nanny taking an evening walk. It was the nanny’s first day working and so when the witness approached her, nerves took over. It was all a false alarm.

  I can’t break out of my motionless state. I don’t feel like crying. I don’t know what I feel like. All I know is that I won’t stop the desperate search for my baby. The false sighting sparks new faith in The Window Case for SPD.

  We meet with Sergeant Steve Flynn and he seems optimistic, reassuring us that we can contact him anytime, even if we discover the faintest of clues. He also informs us that at the crack of dawn they arrested four men suspected to have committed the vandalism at Giulio’s assisted retirement village project. They are all in their late teens and locals of the area. Apparently, they were paid under the table for the job but refused to cooperate when interrogated further, taking us back to square one.

  SPD suspects there are no links to Addilyn, and that it was only a scare tactic to remind us somebody is in fact out there lurking.

  Giulio doesn’t say a word during the briefing and arrives at Notti Designs before me. I know because my eyes remain on his vacated Porsche as I step out of my car. He only touched back down in Seattle this morning after a weekend work trip. I haven’t spoken to him properly since our moment on Friday night. I thought we were progressing well, I mean he was so close to kissing me, so why did he leave the house so suddenly after that damn kettle began whistling?

  Why? Why? Why?

  I conjure the confidence to brace for the day’s challenges and am met with Marcus’ open arms upon entering the lobby. It dissolves all the tension between us. Last week’s mishap with him was a disaster. We’ve never spoken to each other under such tense circumstances before.

  Marcus takes one good look at me and immediately acknowledges my silent pledge with a longer hug. “I’m so sorry to hear about the news, Val. We all wanted it to be Addilyn.”

  Despite his harsh words the other day and the disputes with his half-brother, Marcus has always been nothing but decent towards me. Giulio must have just told him about SPD’s update when he arrived.

  I wish Giulio held me like this at the department.

  If the diamond ring was on my left hand he would have, but eggshells are constantly beneath us. They dictate everything we do.

  Dan, a junior architect, walks up to us and stops by Marcus with a curt smile my way.

  My brother-in-law’s eyes soften as we pull away. “I shouldn’t have said those things last week. I was fired up and shouldn’t have taken it out on you. The separation is something between you two.”

  “It’s okay, I get it. This is a hard time for all of us.”

  “You have the right to be angry at me.”

  I feel the urge to wrap him up in another embrace. “I don’t want to be, Marcus. I just want to go back to normal. Like it was before. That’s all I want.”

  “You’re a good woman. You really are. I just have…” He pauses to rub the tip of his straight nose. “There’s a just lot going on now. Work, personal life, and you know, trying to make women happy. But I need to make this right between us. How can I make it up to you?”

  “By allowing me to help you with whatever is going on. It would be a good distraction.”

  Marcus smiles empathetically. “Appreciate it, but now’s just not a good time. Look, if I do need help I know where to go. You do the same, sound good?”

  “Sounds perfect. Thank you.”

  “Don’t worry, gorgeous. They’ll find whoever’s behind all this. They have to.”

  “You believe me on this? That Addilyn’s still out there?”

  He nods adamantly. “Of course I do, I always have. I think Giulio is just overwhelmed and is not thinking straight. He has a lot on his mind with work. He’ll come around eventually.”

  I hope so too.

  “Well, Dan and I better head to our site. You’ve got this! Keep your head high, alright?”

  I nod with a faint smile, desperately needing it to be true.

  Giulio

  “That’s Scopa, baby! You lose some, you WIN SOME!” Lance hollers proudly beside me, slapping down his last card, the seven of spades, and begins fist pumping the air like a madman.

  Hmmm. You shouldn’t celebrate quite yet, Hilton…

  “Oh, I thought this was supposed to be a friendly game. No?” Sandro chuckles with that familiar Italian-New Jersey accent and pulls his cigar from his lips. “Don’t get too ahead of yourself. Giannotti still has the final turn and let me tell you, that’s serious fire in his eyes.”

  White clouded smoke hazes Sandro’s pointed eyes and sharply structured face. It clears to reveal the man who’s seen just about everything there is to see in the underworld. A few long scars above his brow and along his cheek have faded to white, yet the memories they evoke never will.

  I can’t control my deepening smirk when the two men glance my way. It’s so obvious that Lance groans and covers his face with his hands.

  Ha!

  I have the last card of the round to close out the game, but Lance believes he’s already won with the seven he’s put down. He believes my card is lower and he’ll sweep up the last point and most likely win this round of the classic card game Scopa for the second time in a row. What he doesn’t know is I’ve collected not only more cards than him, but the single card I have left is golden.

  “Don’t tell me you have the…”

  “Alright, I won’t tell you then.” I smile, taunting my best man before turning to Sandro on my left. “Got a cigar for me? It may take a while for Lance to process his losses.”

  “A long while.” Sandro takes another cigar from his case, lights it, and hands it to me.

  “Grazie, Sandro.” I blow out a cloud of victory, grinning as Lance shakes his head. “Go on, Giulio. Put me out of my misery.”

  I slap down the seven of suns and place Scopa. It takes a moment for the three of us to count our points and the second we converge our totals, I lean back in my plush dining room chair with a wolfish smirk. “Well, well, well. Look who won nine out of the twelve rounds played. What is it that I heard you say before, Hilton? Oh, that’s right. That’s Scopa, baby!”

  “Shut up!” Lance fails to compress his dramatic frown and bursts out in laughter. “How do you win every time? It’s like you were trained to professionally kick my ass at this game.”

  “Oh, that’s because I was. Took a two week course on how to specifically piss you off.”

  “Ah, so you’re a qualified con artist?”

  I nod playfully, crossing my arms over my charcoal shirt and pinstriped vest. “Yeah, something like that.”

  Lance throws his head back in laughter. “You sneaky son of a bitch!

  “Okay…Thunderbolt.”

  Lance jumps up from his seat with wide eyes. That did the trick. “Alright, alright. I’ll stop. I see what you’re trying to do by digging back to our college days and the most embarrassing moment of my life. I’m going to get us another bottle of Dom Pérignon to drown that memory.”

  “Don’t knock yourself out in my wine cellar.”

  “Oh, I won’t. I’ll bring the bottle here and knock myself out on the dining table instead.”

  “Sure, stay the night even. Won’t be the first time I’ve tucked a child into bed,” I tease.

  “Wow!” Lance mocks, gasping mid grin while loosening his tie. He averts his gaze to Sandro who simply watches. “Sandro my man, let’s schedule a meeting tomorrow morning. I need to take out this successful businessman with a qualification in sarcasm. Make it fast.”

  “I was only joking.” I laugh, raising my hands in defense. “You know I love you and would do anything for you.”

  “I know. Love you too, man. I’m always here for you too. Anytime and I mean it. Now, I’ll be back with one of your bottles of Dom Pérignon.” Lance snaps his fingers and points to the hall. “And best believ
e we’re playing another game of Scopa and I’ll get both your asses.”

  “Famous last words.”

  We all erupt in laughter as Lance takes his leave out into the dim hallway. It always goes like this when the three of us meet up during a work night at the start of the week. It’s nice to just breathe and spend a few hours with friends, rival card games, and burning cigars.

  I set mine in the ashtray and collect all our cards, shuffling them into a neat pile at the center of the table. I feel Sandro’s eyes on me and swallow down the harsh reality of why I also called him over. This morning when SPD revealed the girl spotted wasn’t Addilyn, I did some digging of my own.

  I first met Sandro a few years ago when my company designed and built one of his houses. I didn’t grasp what sort of house it was until during one of my final inspections when I witnessed Sandro pinning a man to an interior wall and putting two in his head.

  Sandro’s explanation? “It’s my property and so I’ll do whatever the hell I wanna do in it. What the hell are you gonna do ‘bout it?”

  I never pressed it. It was a safehouse after all and what happened within those walls stayed there. An unlikely friendship formed between us though, with a foundation based on that we are both native to New Jersey.

  “I’ve asked all my associates and none of them know anything about your kid.”

  “You sure?”

  “Positive. You know I take care of you, Giulio. Everybody’s clean. Nobody knows a thing, and trust me, I’d know if they did. No underworld organization has anything to do with Addilyn. If you want me to start an investigation, I can gather some of my men and we—”

  I cut him off. “No. No, that’s okay. Thank you. We’ll let SPD do their job. But are you certain it isn’t anybody you know? Perhaps you haven’t done business with them for a while?”

  He chuckles coldly. “You don’t have to worry ‘bout any of those guys, Giulio.”

  “Why’s that?”

  Sandro takes one good look at me and those deadly eyes flicker to the floorboards beneath our feet. “Cause they’re all in the fucking burning pit below. All the guys I haven’t done business with for a while are either dead or on their fucking way there. Hai capito?”

  “Si, ho capito.” I swallow thickly and glance over my shoulder to ensure Lance isn’t in sight before turning back to the Mafioso. When I lean forward with my forearms on my thighs and fingers laced together, my voice stays confidently low. “You know the thing we said earlier?”

  Sandro nods.

  “I’ll think I’ll be needing it after all.”

  There’s a challenge in his eyes that dims the raging light in mine. Will this be a mistake? I rub my hands over my face, prepared to revoke the plan when Sandro smiles. It’s a lethal one that only edges on the pit of fire burning inside me. All he needs to do is light that match and I’ll withstand the blaze that consumes both my versions of heaven and hell—this will be something I can never take back.

  Whatever happens from this point forth, I need Valencia to know I’m doing this for us.

  “You sure you want it?”

  “Positive.”

  “You don’t seem like the type of man who would make a decision without thinking it through. I trust you. I won’t anymore if you fuck with me. If something happens and you let it slip that I gave it to you, you’re a dead man. I’ll do it myself. I’ll drive you to that safe house you made and so God help you if you even dare whisper my name to the boys in blue. Capisci?”

  Nodding, I accept that this is my only choice if I want to protect my family right. “Si.”

  We shake on it, sealing in every one of my fateful sins from this point forth.

  “Marcus! Open the damn door!”

  “Fuck off!”

  “I know he’s in there!” My fists pound against his front door, adamant to get inside. It was a normal Tuesday morning up until Lance gave me the tipoff that he spotted Bryce’s orange pickup parked in my half-brother’s driveway upon passing Marcus’ house on his way to work.

  Bryce is inside and I’ll be damned if I don’t see him. Tomorrow will mark a week since Bryce made an advance on Valencia. I’ve been hunting him down ever since to no avail.

  “Let it go, Giulio!”

  “This has nothing to do with you. I need to speak to Bryce.”

  “Not going to happen.”

  Marcus reminds me of our father. Cunning. Ruthless. Stubborn. Pietro Giannotti confirmed all three for me on the day of my mother’s funeral when he had the audacity to invite the woman he’d been having an affair with, one of my mother’s at-home nurses.

  I cried for my mother that night. Wept until I felt sick and complete lonely despair. If my mother were alive, she would have laid on my bed, kissed my forehead, and stayed with me until her comfort was enough for me to peacefully fall asleep. Hard to do when the person you need the most disappeared into the stars above.

  My father didn’t check on me that night.

  I should have kept the door locked the next morning. It would have prevented the beating I received from him for acting ‘weak.’ Me. A nine-year-old boy who just lost his mother acting weak. To him, I had been since the day I was born, only he didn’t show it until I was nine. I took the beatings, every single one of them. I did not say a word or shed a tear.

  I had not only lost my mother that day…I lost my father too.

  Pietro Giannotti disregarding my existence continued for the next nine years. It was then I had enough money to move to Seattle, one of the best leading cities for architecture, and started my life. I haven’t looked back since because the move was the best thing I’d ever done for myself. It eventuated in my career, my children, and Valencia.

  I regret stooping to my father’s level that fateful Thanksgiving weekend when I traveled back to New Jersey to see him. It was only him, Marcus, and me that night. His wife was working the late shift at the hospital. I remember when my father took his life…that loud bang of the gunshot…I will never forget that sound. Ever.

  Marcus acting the way he is right now reminds me exactly of our father. He loved Marcus. Hated me. I didn’t attend our father’s funeral. Marcus says it was my greatest mistake, but I don’t regret a thing. My father was the first person to break my heart. No father in his right mind should ever do that. No father should mentally or physically abuse his child like he did me.

  “Alright, I’ll go.”

  “Good.” Marcus’ footsteps retreating have me conjuring a plan.

  I back away from the door, suck in a breath, and kick to the side of it, exactly where the lock is mounted near the keyhole. The subtle art of being an architect and knowing ‘weak’ spots.

  I prevail, even when Marcus returns and shouts for me to stop. Two can play that game. The door bursts open and I stride inside like I own the place. My half-brother and Bryce stand before me, their mouths slack.

  Hello, motherfuckers.

  “Now…” Smugly, I brush off my blazer and cock my head to the Englishman. His bruised nose seems to be healing. “Bryce, are you and I going to have a nice talk, or am I going to have to do to your head what I did to the door?”

  “Pleasure to see ya as always, Giannotti.”

  “I wish I could say the same, McCarson.”

  “Too bad ya can’t fire me…”

  “Wish I could, but you’re so fucking deep in this mess I want to witness you crawl out!”

  “Hey, do not speak to him like that!” Marcus grits, stepping forward to block my way to Bryce. “Get out of here, Giulio!”

  “You would not say that if you were in my position.”

  “I wouldn’t get myself in your position to begin with.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “I just am.” Marcus scoffs and leans against the wooden stair balustrade. His beady eyes flicker to the coat closet, then back to me. “Firstly, you know where you went wrong…now, the consequence is having to deal with me and whoever I call a friend—like Bryce. Secondly
, I don’t do commitment…or rather, I never get to that commitment stage. I’ve tried.”

  “As a man whose wife was involuntary kissed by this friend of yours, I’m kindly asking you to move out of my way before I do something you will regret.”

  “Well, well, well. The tiger comes to play when it’s about this girl, aye?”

  “And YOU have another thing coming!” I point a finger at Bryce, defusing his smirk with a single look. “No smartass remarks from you.”

  “Guess I’ve gotta take a number and wait in line.” Bryce shrugs and turns towards the ominous looking hallway. “I’ll be in the living room when you’re ready to ring me neck. Don’t worry, I won’t run. I’ve got nothing waiting for me but you.”

  You run and I’ll catch you.

  I glance around, analyzing the dark timber wood floors and dark walls. I feel crowded in here. There is a distinct smell of whiskey mixed with something I can’t grasp.

  “I kindly suggest you get the hell out, Giulio.”

  A chill runs down my spine. I don’t know why. There’s something about this house. I get this agitated feeling inside as I follow Marcus’ gaze to that coat closet again. He’s quick to rush forward and take a hold of the handle before me.

  My brows quiver. “What’s in there?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Doesn’t seem like nothing by the death grip you have on it.”

  “I apologized to Valencia, okay? I got out of line with her, but we’re good again. I don’t need to apologize to you. Quite frankly, I don’t need you.”

  “Open the door, Marcus.”

  “Fucking leave my house before I destroy you!”

  “You mean the house I bought you? Father would be ashamed of you.”

  “No!” My half-brother sneers. “He would continue to place me on a pedestal, like he always did. You would be the one to suffer, like you always do. Why? Because you’re w…e…a…k.”

  Oh, that’s it.

  I fight his grip and swing the door open. “Holy shit!”