Emilia: Part 1 (Trassato Crime Family Book 3)

by Lisa Cardiff

  Reluctantly, I took his hand and stood. A little zing of electricity shot up my arm and I blinked, heaving in a deep breath and forcing my wayward reaction to him into submission. “I’m rusty. I haven’t played in months. Is there anything I can do to convince you to take a raincheck?”

  “Don’t be rude to your fiancé, Emilia.” My father pushed back his chair, the wooden legs scraping loudly over the hardwood floor. “You started playing before your feet could reach the pedals, and if he wants to hear you, then you might as well put all the money spent on your ridiculous hobby to use. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Without so much as a wave or a backward glance, he headed toward the garage. Stunned, I stood unmoving, listening to the slam of the door, the telltale hum of the garage door opener, and the rumble of his car engine. I couldn’t believe he called playing the piano a silly hobby. Every word of encouragement he’d uttered about my one and only talent was a lie. He never gave a shit. I shouldn’t be surprised, but it still hurt.

  “I’d love for you to play “Moonlight” by Beethoven again, even a little of it,” Marcello said, interrupting my self-pitying inner monologue.

  I smiled, grateful he didn’t bring up my father’s comment. “You remember what I played that night?”

  “Among other things.”

  He flashed a tiny but coaxing smile and my belly thawed like I’d swallowed a mouthful of rich, warm coffee. I didn’t understand how this man could simultaneously unnerve and comfort me.

  “All right, but you have to promise not to laugh if I make a fool of myself. I hate someone to listening to me when I’m not at my best.”

  “You’ll do fine. Either way, it’d be a pleasure to hear you play again.”

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY-ONE

  Marcello followed me into the spare bedroom my father had converted into a music room after my mom died. I perched on the gleaming cherry wood bench and opened the lid. My eyes closed, I trailed my fingers over the ivory keys, drew in a breath, and played for the first time in months.

  At first my fingers stumbled, fat-fingering the keys, and I sighed in frustration, shocked how quickly my playing had gone downhill. When I moved to close the lid, Marcello put his hands on top of mine.

  “Relax, little Emilia. It’s only me here. No judgment, no expectations. Just two people spending time together.”

  I swallowed back my reservations and replaced my fingers. “Okay, but don’t blame me if your ears are bleeding by the end.”

  “I’ll live.”

  After his gentle words, everything fell into place like it had been days since I last touched a piano. Time flew by, my body swaying to the melody. After I completed the piece, I was surprised I had made it through without any major missteps. I glanced at Marcello to gauge his reaction. The way he looked at me with his heavy-lidded speculative eyes buried in the rugged angles of his face made my stomach knot.

  “Beautiful,” he said in his smoky voice as he stepped out of the shadows.

  Mesmerized by the odd light in Marcello’s eyes, I made no effort to break the silence in the room. A chill inched up my back at the thought of all of the dark secrets hidden beneath his veil of civility. Something must have made him that way. My gut told me he was a man who’d done all kinds of things that would rock me to the core. Even knowing that, I couldn’t deny that Marcello intrigued me. He was a firestorm of beauty, violence, and power.

  I released a careful breath, tamping down the weird feelings blooming inside of me. “Thank you.”

  “Why’d you stop playing?”

  I glanced to the side, and after a beat, I answered, “It’s complicated.”

  He dropped his hands on the top of my shoulders and I swallowed audibly. His heady masculine scent surrounded me, producing a mild case of vertigo. “We have time for complicated. Your dad won’t be back for hours.”

  “Weird things happened.” I stared bitterly at the piano. “Confrontations with strangers. I don’t know. Dumb stuff I didn’t understand. My father didn’t think it was safe for me to spend much time away from the house, and now I’m basically a prisoner in my home.”

  “Ah.” He worked his fingers into my shoulders, massaging my tight muscles. While I should keep my distance from him both mentally and physically, his touch felt too good and I surrendered to it, dropping my chin to my chest. His fingers dipped into the scooped neck of my blouse, leisurely mapping the horizontal lines of my collarbone. “You’ll have more freedom when you move to Chicago. I want you to get to know my friends and family and make a life there. You can take as many lessons as you want and perform whenever and wherever.”

  Acting purely on instinct, I leaned into him, my body brushing against his silky tie. His warm, minty breath stirred the fallen strands of hair next to my ear. One of his hands slipped up my back, tracing my spine and the curve of my waist. My eyes fluttered shut, getting lost in the moment. Goose bumps peppered my arms. A crackling energy swirled around the room.

  When his fingertips brushed the underside of my breast, an alarm sounded inside my brain, muted by the slow burn of desire. If I encouraged him, he’d kiss me or more. I straightened my back and pitched my torso away from him, desperate to slow the wave of need sucking me under.

  “So you don’t care what I do. Once we’re married you’ll have your alliance with my family, and both of us can go our own way. Live our own lives,” I said, turning his generous words on their head and using them as ammunition.

  His hands tensed, his fingers digging into my flesh, then he backed away, severing all contact, his posture deceptively casual and relaxed. “Where’d you get that idea?”

  I lurched to my feet and whirled around. “I know that you brought your girlfriend, goomah or whatever, to our engagement party, which tells me you have no intention of having a real marriage with me, which is fine. I don’t want to marry you either. I’m too young, and I don’t know you, but I’d appreciate it if you stopped toying with my emotions.”

  He frowned. “Emilia…”

  “No. I’m not done talking. I don’t care if we have a real marriage. I don’t even care if you plan to set me up in another house. But I do object to you pretending you’re interested in more than my last name and connections. It’s a waste of our time and energy. So here’s what I think. You can go home, do what you want, and I’ll do what I want here.”

  His lips twitched, and he wiped his hand over his mouth.

  I shot him a scathing look. “What’s so funny?”

  “My girlfriend. You think I brought my girlfriend?”

  I jutted out my hip and lifted my chin. “I know you brought your girlfriend. She was the woman in the green dress. Right?”

  “Sarah?”

  “I don’t know her name. No one introduced her to me.”

  “Did you want me to introduce her to you?”

  “Ah, let me think.” I tapped my finger on my lips. “Um, yeah, I’ll pass, but thanks for the offer.” Asshole. Thank God, I had no intention of marrying this man. I’d be silently plotting his death within a year.

  “Contrary to what you apparently think of me,” he drawled, his voice deep and mocking, “I’m not so insecure that I need a woman hanging off my arm and in my bed to feel better about myself. And I hate to point this out, but your accusation is a little hypocritical given Sal’s presence.”

  “So you’re saying you’ve never touched that woman?” I folded my arms across my chest and tipped up my chin, determinedly ignoring my hypocrisy because he nailed it on the head. I had no right to toss accusations at him for more reasons than he knew. “Is that what you want me to believe?”

  Lazy amusement lit his face. “Are you jealous, little Emilia?”

  “What? You can’t be serious. I don’t care what or who you do. I only want to know what to expect so I’m not blindsided by your girlfriends at every turn.”

  Stalking closer to me, his eyes darkened with an edgy power, and I backpedaled until the piano dug into my back
. His hands flattened on top of the piano on either side of me, effectively caging me in. “Is that a fact?” A hard, possessive tone colored his voice, making me hyper aware of our proximity.

  “Yes,” I managed to squeak out, my voice barely a thread of a sound. He cupped the back of my neck, bringing his mouth within striking distance, and my heart misfired. “But you know what? This is irrelevant. I don’t have a clue why I brought her up. Let’s talk about something else.”

  “She’s not my girlfriend. She came with one of my associates.”

  “And you never—” I couldn’t finish my question, mostly because I didn’t want to know the answer. I shouldn’t care either way, and the fact that I did even a little bit scared the crap out of me. Marcello wasn’t my future. He’d never be anything to me other than a short-lived flash in time before I started living the life I always wanted.

  I closed my eyes, gambling that if I didn’t see his ruggedly handsome face, I could erase all of the disconcerting emotions spinning inside of me. Unfortunately, he took it as an invitation. He pressed his lips against mine with a single-minded hunger, his arms hooked around my waist, and I felt the hard imprint of his body flush against mine.

  His tongue swept into my mouth, warm and malleable, and the heat around us multiplied tenfold. His erection pressed into my belly and desire stretched my nerve endings like a rubber band begging to snap. His hands traveled recklessly up and down my sides, and an achy need washed over me. I drew my legs together, pouring every ounce of confusion, longing, and frustration into the kiss. I slipped my hands around his waist and under his jacket, caressing his ropy muscles and clung to him as if he were the only thing keeping me from crashing to the floor.

  While I knew deep in my gut this was wrong on too many levels to name, I rationalized it as a goodbye and an apology for my deception all rolled into one. I got lost in his taste, his smell, and him. A soft moan reverberated through the room and not until I felt his lips pull into a smile did I realize it came from me.

  Too long yet too soon, he pulled away, his chest heaving, his blue eyes hooded, and his lips swollen. He looked insanely beautiful, like a bronzed Roman god. I rested my face against his chest, listening to the steady thud of his heart. The kiss combined with the feel of his arms around me and the soft purr of our breaths lulled me into some strange bubble where nothing existed except the dark, sensual pull between the two of us. His hand roamed all over me, dominance, power and sex rolling off him like a voodoo love spell, weakening my objections to him. To the idea of us, and the future he talked about years earlier in the dimly lit hall outside my father’s study.

  “As tempting as you are, little Emilia, I should go before we take this too far. I don’t think Dominick would appreciate me taking advantage of our time alone.”

  His comment snapped me back into reality. The fact that he believed this might lead to more between us hit me like a kick to the gut. My body’s reaction to this man eviscerated me. It was completely out of sync with the future I planned for myself, and yet none of that made a difference within seconds of him touching me.

  “Oh, yeah, whatever you think,” I said, embarrassment creeping up my face. I looked away from his too keen eyes and focused on the black and white photo of my family hanging on the wall. My father had stripped the house of every last reminder of our family after my mom died except for that picture.

  Marcello reached for me, framing my face, simultaneously forcing me to look at him and acknowledge this thing between us—whatever it was or wasn’t.

  “Before too long, we’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other and much more freedom to do it.”

  I shrugged out of his hold and squared my shoulders, mentally trampling on the hysteria inching through me. “I assume you can let yourself out. I’m not feeling very social anymore.”

  He cocked his head to the side. “So it’s going to be like that, huh?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Every time we make progress and I think we’re on the same page, you retreat into your shell again.”

  “No amount of you forcing yourself on me will change the fact that I don’t want to marry you, and I’d appreciate if you kept your hands and lips off me.”

  “You can ignore what’s happening between us all you want, but it won’t change reality.”

  “Leave.”

  “Not until you admit you liked kissing me.”

  “No.” I’d never admit anything because I hated that my body betrayed me every time he touched me. The way my silly heart hammered and my limbs trembled made me sick.

  The muscles in the lower half of his jaw ticked, and we both stood rooted to the floor, our invisible swords drawn, preparing to do battle. The air around us shifted, thickening and pressing against my ribcage, making it impossible to fill my lungs.

  I opened my mouth, and his knuckles brushed the side of my temple, lowering my guard and scattering the words on the tip of my tongue. “If you deny it, I’m not opposed to practicing with you until you change your mind.”

  “Why are you doing this?” I croaked, not caring if I sounded weak. I wanted him to leave me alone and stop messing with me. I had already planned out my life, and it didn’t include him. Could never include him.

  “Why are you resisting?”

  “So many reasons, but mostly because I have no interest in doing my father’s bidding.”

  He chuckled. “And that’s what you think you’re doing by agreeing to marry me?”

  “Aren’t I?”

  He pulled me into his arms and kissed me, quick and dirty. “You have a lot to learn, little Emilia. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  I gaped at him as he exited the room, the herringbone hardwood floor creaking under the weight of his leather-soled shoes. I stared until his broad shoulders disappeared around the corner. When I heard the alarm chime and the front door shut, I finally found the courage to make my way to my bedroom.

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY-TWO

  My legs wobbly and my heart chugging a guilty beat, I shut my bedroom door behind me. I flattened my back against the white painted wooden panels on my wall.

  “What a mess,” I mumbled.

  I needed to yank my head out of the clouds and pull myself together. Without fail, Marcello turned my world upside down and set it on fire every single time I was alone with him. Somehow he wove a spell around me, making me forget why I wanted to reinvent myself far away from here. Worst of all, though, I forgot about Sal, and I freakin’ loved Sal. How could I not? He planned to give up his whole life, his family, his future for me. That counted for something. A whole helluva lot of something, especially when Marcello wasn’t giving up anything.

  I tugged on the roots of my hair, taking comfort in the stinging sensation. It helped me focus and remember what mattered, and that was Sal and the promises we made to each other. I needed to talk to him and hear his voice, but I wouldn’t put it past my father to monitor my phone, and making him suspicious was the last thing I needed.

  “Mannaggia.”

  I threw myself face down onto my bed, and then I remembered Sal gave me three burner phones. Practically stumbling in my haste to get to the duffel bag hidden in my walk-in closet, I flew across the room. In less than thirty seconds, I had one of the black phones in hand and I was dialing Sal’s number.

  I settled onto the floor and kicked the closet door closed, waiting for him to answer. Listening to ring after ring, my attention bounced around the small space. The yellowish overhead light made my clothes, all various shades of gray and black, resemble a sepia photograph.

  When I had resigned myself to leaving a message, Sal answered.

  “Hello.”

  Music and laughter floated through my phone. I pulled my knees tighter to my chest, digging the fingers of my free hand into the fleshy part next to my shinbone.

  “Sal, it’s me,” I whispered in case my father suddenly came home and decided to venture in the direc
tion of my room.

  “I’ll call you back,” he barked into the phone, his voice curt.

  What the hell?

  Like they had a mind of their own, tears beaded at the corners of my eyes, determined to make a fool of me. Frustrated, I tossed shoe after shoe at the light switch until I hit the lower half, successfully shrouding the closet in darkness. For reasons I couldn’t explain, my emotional rollercoaster felt less loony when I couldn’t see a damn thing.

  Over a half an hour later, the phone rang.

  “Emilia,” Sal said, his voice rushed and urgent, “are you okay? Did something happen?”

  “No. I’m fine.” I molded into the wall of hanging clothes behind me. “I needed to hear your voice. I miss you.”

  “I miss you too.”

  Neither of us said another word. His soft breaths poured through the speaker along with a roar of an engine and the honking of a horn.

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m leaving your dad’s club.”

  “Oh.” I licked my lips. “You were working tonight?”

  “I’m always working. I have a lot of work to catch up on now that I’m not following you around every day. How are things with your fiancé?” His question came out like a sneer, and it took a few seconds for me to respond.

  “Um, well, they’re okay. He left a little bit ago. He wants to spend as much time as possible together before he leaves, so I’m stuck for now.”

  “That sounds fun.”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose, sadness rippling through me. While I didn’t want things to be like this between us, I couldn’t figure out how to make it better. Circumstances beyond our control had stacked the odds against us, and I was starting to suspect nothing would change it. Maybe some things weren’t meant to be. As quickly as the realization floated through my mind, I swatted it away. Nothing was worse than defeatist thinking.

  “Not really.”

  “Did you kiss him again?”