by K. A. Ware
My job wasn’t to talk. My job was to play along with whatever my uncle’s plan for me was while gathering as much information as I could. The day after I’d arrived in Seattle, Carlo had cornered me to let me know, in no uncertain terms, that I had to make a choice where my loyalties lie—and there was no going back from it. It wasn’t a difficult decision; I knew from the minute my mother sold me to my uncle that I’d never fall in line for someone like that. But, unlike my cousin, I had no problem playing the part and patiently waiting for my end game to play out.
The dark stairwell gave way to dim light before it opened up to a dank basement, a single, bare lightbulb hanging in the center of the ceiling. The bulb whined as the light pulsed and dimmed slightly, not quite illuminating the corners of the room.
I felt three pairs of eyes sizing me up before my foot landed on the stone floor. I wasn’t sure what Vincenzo had planned—but whatever it was, I knew for sure it would be a test, and failure was not an option.
Three men stood waiting for us, all wearing suits with their arms folded in front of them. They looked like they could be lawyers, except the bulge of guns under their jackets gave them away as something far more dangerous. I’d never seen them before, but it took only a moment to catalog their features and store the information away.
“Have a seat,” my uncle instructed, motioning to a metal folding chair.
Grabbing the backrest, I let the legs scrape across the concrete floor as I moved it into position; the unpleasant noise of metal on concrete filled the room. A smirk played on my lips at the twitch in my uncle’s jaw. He appreciated my silence and compliance, but he didn’t particularly care for my penchant for making others uncomfortable.
Once satisfied, I straddled the chair and looked around from my position. I had a full view of the stairs and the door at the opposite corner of the room, my back to the wall. There was no chance I was going to get caught off guard. I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, sliding one between my lips when I caught the eye of one of the men. While the others had gone back to facing forward, he continued to stare at me from the corner of his eye. Unwilling to look away first, I kept my eyes locked on his as I lit my cigarette and took the first drag, exhaling the smoke through my nose.
The sound of a door opening cut our stare down short. I didn’t move to get up, instead keeping my posture relaxed as two men, also wearing suits, dragged a beaten man into the room. The two men—who I recognized as Frank and Al—tossed the man into the middle of the room. The dull thud of his skull connecting with the concrete echoed oddly off the walls.
“This man is here because he has information that I need,” Vincenzo said, pacing slowly in front of the man. “And that is very unfortunate for him.”
My eyes kept slowly roaming the room, making sure I knew where everyone was and what they were doing while Vincenzo gave his little speech.
“Antonio,” my uncle addressed me suddenly.
I cut my eyes to him, remaining silent. He knew I was paying attention; there was no need for verbal confirmation.
“It’s time to see what you’re made of—if you have what it takes to assume a permanent place in this family. Johnny here,” he said, gesturing to the beaten man sprawled on the floor, “and his brother, Trevor, stole from me. Now, Johnny’s decided to be difficult. He’s refusing to give up his big brother, and that won’t do. It’s up to you, my dear nephew, to get him to talk. Just remember, failure is never an option,” he said, keeping his voice low as he stared me down.
I assumed he was trying to intimidate me. I had to force myself to keep my face blank and not roll my eyes. The man was nothing if not dramatic. He loved to be the center of attention, to exude his power and bathe in the light of glory.
That was where we were different. I didn’t showboat, didn’t feel the need to bask in the power and authority. It was something else I craved. I’d seen glimpses of it growing up, the thrill I felt seeing the wide eyes of an opponent just before a fight. But that was nothing compared to the euphoria that warmed my skin when I locked eyes with the man lying on the floor. The way he tracked my movements as I took another drag of my cigarette, the way his body began to shake more violently the longer I stared—it soothed a sick part of my soul.
Realization dawned on me. It wasn’t the adrenaline of a fight that got me off; it was the fear in their eyes that I craved. Something in the back of my head told me that once I’d gotten a taste for it, I’d never get enough.
Chapter 17
Seattle, Washington
July 2003
Elena
The water was already scalding my skin, but I turned the tap still. If I could just get the water hot enough, if I could just scrub hard enough, I might be able to wash away the feel of his touch on my skin. His appetites had subsided significantly with age, but when he did come for me, it was always worse than the last time.
I stayed in the shower as long as I could, to the point where the heat was starting to get to me. Stepping out into the steam filled bathroom, I made quick work of drying off. I needed to get into my room where it was cool before I passed out. Once again, I’d pushed myself to the limit to rid myself of the tainted feeling that clung to my skin.
This time, it’d been before I was even finished with my morning chores. Thankfully, Carlo and Antonio had already left for the day, giving me time to clean up without being missed.
I walked to my dresser to pull out some fresh clothes and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Staring at the woman before me, I wanted to cry. I wasn’t even sure if he knew what day it was, but I did. I’d never forget. It was the anniversary of the day we first met, the beginning of my ruin. Thirty years of my life had been ruled by a man whom I now hated as fiercely as I’d once loved.
I pulled myself together and tried to focus on just getting ready for the day, but a flash of red in the mirror caught my attention. Slowly turning, I noticed a single red rose placed across my pillow.
He remembered.
The realization made me both nostalgic and sick at the same time. I wanted my heart to fall in line with what my brain knew to be true, but it was impossible. My feelings for Vincenzo were like two sides to a coin, I both loved the man he used to be and hated the man he’d become.
The only problem was I could still sometimes see the part of him that I’d fallen in love with so many years ago peek out, and all of a sudden I was sixteen again. Living in our small village on the coast of Sicily, the only real problem in my life was picking the perfect book for Vincenzo to read next. I didn’t want to remember. I didn’t want to think of him as ever being good or kind. If I allowed myself to remember who he once was, it would shatter me all over again.
It’s hard to follow logic and run when your heart keeps grabbing you around the middle and pulling you back down. As much as I wanted to be angry, as much as I resented the life I’d fallen into, I knew there was a purpose. I couldn’t help but wonder, if not for me, what would have happened to Carlo?
On the bad days, though, doubt still trickled in. If it hadn’t been for me, would Vincenzo have been able to find happiness with Luciana? Would things have been different for Carlo? Was his resentment for not being able to be with who he wanted the fuel that fed his anger? I had to force myself to stop the constant questioning, the steady stream of what-ifs that filled my thoughts. They wouldn’t change the past; nothing could erase what had already been done.
I had to focus on the present, on Carlo. He was my constant, my reason to push forward every day.
Whatever it takes.
I was just beginning to set the table for dinner when Carlo and Antonio walked in.
“Is he here?” Carlo asked immediately.
“No, he left this morning and hasn’t been back.”
“Good, we need to talk.”
“About what?” I asked, bewildered. The intensity of his stare was starting to frighten me.
“My father,” he gritted out.
>
“Shh!” I immediately looked around, searching for anyone that could’ve overheard. At any given time, the house could be filled with any number of Vincenzo’s men. “Follow me.”
I led them through the kitchen and utility room and into the laundry room. Shutting and locking the door behind them, I moved to the washing machine and started a cycle before finally turning to them.
“This should mask our voices, but we still need to be quiet,” I whispered.
“Wow, Elena. It seems like you’ve done this before,” Carlo commented with a quirked brow.
I waved him off. “Luciana and I used to meet here when you were younger.”
“My mother?” Carlo questioned, a little too loudly for my comfort.
“Be quiet!” I hissed. “Yes, your mother. How else were we not going to be seen or heard?”
“I never really thought you guys liked each other.”
“You weren’t supposed to. Now, I doubt you wanted to talk to me about mine and your mother’s relationship.”
“Your relationship?”
“I swear to God, Carlo Carmine DeLuca, I don’t care how big you are, you’ll never be too old for my wooden spoon!”
“Shit, okay!” he hissed back at me. “I’m sorry, you’re right. He’s been disappearing lately; I know he’s up to something, but I can’t figure out what it is.”
“He’s a grown man running an empire, Carlo. What makes you think he’s up to something? Couldn’t he just be working?”
“He’s not working. None of the men know where he’s taking off to.”
“They could just not be telling you. Your father isn’t the most trusting person; it could be that he just told them not to say anything. Have you caught wind of any changes coming down the pipeline? Any threats?”
“No, nothing like that,” Antonio finally spoke up. “I’ve been keeping my ear to the ground, and I haven’t heard anything.”
“Have you tried following him?” I asked, thinking of the obvious solution.
Carlo sighed. “We’ve tried, but we can’t get close enough to keep up with him. He’s become even more paranoid, and he’s shut me out at every turn. If he finds out we’re following him, that we’re on to him, it would be suicide.”
“What about you?” I asked Antonio.
“I think I’ve done a good job convincing him that he has my loyalty, but he still doesn’t trust me completely. And whatever he’s up to, he’s made sure to cover his tracks. I don’t even think Frank knows where he’s going.”
I was taken aback at the insinuation. “What makes you say that?” Frank was Vincenzo’s right-hand man. He knew everything about Vincenzo—everything.
“He asked me where he was the other day, they were supposed to meet with one of the club managers to go over a discrepancy, and he was nowhere to be found. Everyone else was accounted for,” Carlo answered.
“No one could find him?” I asked dubiously. It wasn’t like Vincenzo to go off without an entourage. He liked the power it exuded having that many men at his disposal.
“Nope, we even went to the penthouse in the city, but it was empty,” Antonio added.
“Penthouse?” I asked.
Carlo rolled his eyes, “It’s where he takes the girls from the club to impress them, the dirty bastard. He bought it last year.”
I didn’t think it was possible for Vincenzo to disappoint me more than he already had, but once again he left me unpleasantly surprised. As much as I loathed him and time we spent together intimately, I’d never considered he was with other women. I’m not sure why, he was with me when he was with Luciana; I should’ve expected it.
“Elena? Are you okay?” Carlo asked, snapping me out of my thoughts.
“What? Oh, of course, I was just thinking,” I said hurriedly. “So why are you coming to me?”
“Because you’re the only one I can trust, and you can get into places that we can’t without drawing suspicion. We need you to do some snooping around.”
“Boys, this is very dangerous territory you’re treading on here. If we get caught, things will not be good for any of us,” I warned.
“I know, but we need to find out what he’s up to. Something’s not right; I can feel it in my gut.”
I took a steadying breath. If I was caught, the price for spying on Vincenzo could be my life. “Okay, so what am I looking for?”
“Anything you can find that will tell us where he’s been going—receipts or valet tickets.”
“I’ll do my best, but I’m not sure what I’ll find. Your father isn’t a stupid man. If he’s gone to this much trouble to hide whatever it is from you, it’s unlikely I’ll just stumble on evidence.”
“There’s one more way you can help us,” Carlo hedged. I didn’t like his tone; it was too sweet, too imploring.
“What?”
“If you could find a way to get into his phone and see who he’s been calling, that might help us track him down.”
“How am I supposed to do that?” I hissed.
“I’m not sure, but if anyone can do it, it’s you,” he said, staring meaningfully at me.
I felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped on my head. I couldn’t be sure if it was my imagination or if he knew something about my relationship with his father. Either way, I didn’t appreciate the way he was inspecting me as if he was waiting for me to show my hand.
“I’ll do my best. Now, we’ve been in here too long. You two go out first, and I’ll follow a few minutes behind you,” I instructed and shooed them out.
I appreciated Carlo’s trust in me, but if we weren’t careful, it could mean a death sentence for us all.
Lying in his bed, the scent of his cologne surrounded me and turned my stomach, but I stayed still. I listened as he turned the water on in the shower, wishing I could flee to my room and wash away every trace of him.
For the first time in years, I’d gone out seeking him instead of waiting for him to come to me. It was as close to hell on earth as I could get. I’d felt my soul burning away with every touch, every sickening grunt from him, but I hadn’t had a choice. It was the only way to get close enough to him to get to his phone. Over the past few weeks, I’d tried everything I could think of to get to that damn phone, but nothing worked. Giving myself to him was the only way.
Once I was sure he was actually in the shower, I slowly crept from the bed and dressed. Moving to his chest of drawers where he’d emptied his pockets, I picked up the black phone and flipped it open. I wasn’t completely sure what I was looking for. The call log just had a list of numbers. Nothing was saved in the contacts that would give me any indication as to who they belonged to.
With shaking hands, I pulled the pad of paper and pen from my apron and started to scribble down the numbers as fast as I could. I’d almost filled a full page in the small notebook when I heard the door to the bathroom open.
“What are you doing?” Vincenzo boomed, and my heart seized in my chest.
The shower was still running in the bathroom. He hadn’t turned it off before coming out, which meant he was trying to catch me doing something I shouldn’t.
I ripped out a page from the notebook and slipped the pad into my pocket before turning around to face him.
“I was leaving you a note like I used to when we were younger. I thought you’d like it,” I said, casting my eyes to the floor, trying to look embarrassed instead of terrified.
“Hmm, let’s see it then,” he said, holding his hand out but not moving to close the distance between us.
Of course, he’d expect me to come to him.
I gave him a sweet smile and approached him carefully, the notepad burning a hole in my right pocket the whole way. He snatched the small piece of paper from me and read it aloud.
“My dearest V, I’ve gone to finish up the chores before I start dinner, but I wanted you to know that you’ll be filling my thoughts as I move through the rest of the day. My heart is light and my smile bright as I await the
next time you’ll hold me in your arms. With all my love, E.”
“I know we’re too old for that sort of thing, but I feel like we haven’t been connecting much lately. I just wanted you to know that I was thinking of you,” I said, peeking up at him from under my lashes.
I was worried I was taking it too far, but relief filled me when a smile broke on his stern face. My relief was replaced my terror when he roughly grabbed a handful of hair at the back of my neck and wretched my head back.
“Is that all?” he sneered, shoving a hand into my apron pocket and pulling out a small notebook. He fumbled as he flipped through the pages one handed. When all he found was recipes and a grocery list, the hold he had on my hair loosened. It was the first time he’d ever used any kind of force against me, and I couldn’t hide the fear and shock on my face.
He handed me the notebook back, and I slipped it back into the left pocket of my apron without taking my eyes off of him.
“I’m sorry, Elena. I shouldn’t have doubted you,” he said, shaking his head in regret, but I knew it was fake. The man before me didn’t feel remorse, not really.
“I’m just under a lot of pressure; there are people that will do anything to bring me down. I’m sorry, love. Please forgive me,” he pleaded.
Swallowing the bile in my throat, I reached out and touched his cheek and let the lies flow out of me, “I know you have to be careful. But darling, I’ve loved you for over thirty years; you have nothing to fear from me. Amo solo te, I love only you, remember?”
“Of course, love. I’m so sorry,” he repeated, pulling me close against his bare chest.
“You’re forgiven. I’m sorry if I gave you any reason to doubt me,” I whispered.
“No, it’s just the paranoid mind of an old man, nothing you did. You’re perfect, you’ve always been perfect.”
His affections had my stomach rolling again; I could only take so much. Pulling away, I lifted up and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek, unable to bring myself to kiss his lips.
