by Lisa Cardiff
“You don’t get to tell me what to do, Marcello. You’re engaged. To. Another. Woman.” I squared my shoulders against the pain at saying those words. “I didn’t want anything to do with you all those years ago, and I don’t want you now either. I used you to regain my confidence after my crappy marriage, and you used me as your last fling.” I sawed my jawbone and licked my dry lips. “I think we’re finally on the same page, so you can leave.”
He looked around like he wasn’t sure I was talking to him or he couldn’t believe I actually had the nerve to say that, and then his mask of indifference set firmly in place. “Lucca, Dominick, good seeing you again.”
Without another word, he stalked out of my house, and I fled before I collapsed in front of my uncle and my father.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SIX
My father sat next to me on the piano bench, and my fingers froze in place. I hadn’t touched a piano in years. Somehow, I’d lost that part of myself when I lived with Gavin. After we married, he promised to buy me a piano as a wedding present. Sadly, any romantic feelings between us fizzled so fast he never made good on his promise. The few times I brought it up, he told me we didn’t have enough money.
“Emilia?”
“Yes?” I steeled my spine for whatever he planned to say to me. The messy, embarrassing display earlier wasn’t exactly my best moment. I wished I could go back in time and leave with Marcello like we had planned instead of subjecting everyone to the verbal vomit that followed.
“I, ah, wanted to set a few things straight about Marcello.”
He might as well have planted a hatchet in my chest. Just hearing his name out loud hurt like a motherfucker. “I don’t think there’s much to say.”
“Maybe not, but I still think you’re entitled to some background information.” He sighed. “The Masciantonio family had some internal warring last year. I don’t know the details, but it was ugly. They were killing their own. Some bad shit went down with Marcello’s sister, what’s her name?”
“Mila.”
“That’s right. Anyway, Marcello had to do something to shut it down before the authorities stuck their nose into it and flipped someone.”
“What’s that have to do with him being engaged to someone else while we…I…” I stopped mid-thought. That was one sentence I had no intention of finishing. My father had never been my confidant. Not once. He twisted and turned things to his advantage, and telling him about the promises Marcello made to me wouldn’t be any different. He’d use it as leverage against Marcello or me. And while from the sound of things Marcello had played me, I didn’t want my dad thinking he had to do something to get even.
“Marriage is a good way to end disputes.”
I snorted in disgust. “Right. Clearly, he’s fond of that solution.” He planned to marry me years ago to heal the divide between our families and settle old scores. Why wouldn’t he offer himself up on a platter again? It made perfect sense.
“How’s the view from that high horse?”
I frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“When the shit hit the fan with the Masciantonios, you were long gone, Emilia. He knew you had married some other guy. None of us ever thought we’d hear from you again, including him.”
My gut clenched. I couldn’t dismiss the truth in his words. Marcello had no obligation to wait for me. I ran. I gave up him up. I married someone. There was no clearer signal that he was free to do the same. He even pushed me away, told me he didn’t want anything to do with me again when I threw myself at him on the plane. But when push came to shove, we both caved. We couldn’t stay away from each other.
I only wish he hadn’t misled me into believing there was more going on between us than sex. I gave him everything, without reservation, and he’d been hiding a big fucking secret the whole time.
“I know. I get that, but I hate being blindsided, and it seems like I’m always the last person to know the truth, especially when it concerns me.”
My father’s dark eyes studied me for a moment without saying anything. It was strange to sit here like we had a real father-daughter relationship. Like he cared about my opinion and my wellbeing.
He glanced to the side as though he couldn’t and didn’t want to look me in the eye. “I probably kept you in the dark more than necessary.”
I rolled my eyes and didn’t bother to check the sarcasm in my tone. “Ya’ think?”
“Marcello won’t stick around for weeks to see if you change your mind,” my father said rather than go down that road.
I couldn’t deny the truth in his words. “Why do you care? Sal told me you never wanted me to marry Marcello, so you bribed him to pretend he liked me. I’d think you’d be happy I sent Marcello away.”
“I’m done meddling in your life. I just want you to be happy.”
“Riiiight,” I said, venom dripping from the word. “The great Dominick Trassato doesn’t have an ulterior motive. Give me a break. You always have an agenda.”
He grimaced. “I guess I deserve that.”
“You do.”
“This isn’t going like I expected.”
“And how did you expect it to go? You’ve been playing games with my life for years.”
“Yeah, well, I’m done. My brother’s dead, my wife killed herself, and you ran away because you couldn’t stand me. Let’s just say I’m old enough to realize I’m running out of time and chances. I want to make this right. Will you give this father-daughter thing another shot?”
I studied him intently, looking for deception, and I only saw sincerity. I had railed against my father and demonized him for years. Maybe we could finally put the past behind us and be a family. “Yeah, I’d like that. And, Dad? I’m sorry about your brother. I wish I was here for you, Gian, and Carmela when he died.”
Not being here for his funeral was another thing on the long list of stuff I regretted. Gian and Carmela had always supported me, and I wasn’t there when they needed me. A tear rolled down my cheek. I was so caught up in my need for freedom and escaping the Trassatos, I hadn’t even realized my uncle had died.
“Hey.” He wiped my cheek. “No need to cry. It’s in the past.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“For what?”
“For today. For supporting me now. For the piano. I don’t know. I guess I’m just emotional.”
“I’m here for you no matter what. We’re family, right?” I nodded. “Now, you wanna explain what happened with Sal?”
“Nothing to explain. He didn’t like that I rejected him. He threatened us and then disappeared. I think he and Marcello had words. Have you heard from him?”
“Not since he showed up on my doorstep a few days ago asking for a couple weeks off to visit his brother in California.”
“What’s his brother doing in California?” I wasn’t surprised Sal’s brother took off. From the little I gathered when Sal and I were together, he didn’t want him to get sucked into the Trassato Family.
“Gettin’ a degree at some fancy university in computer science.”
My fingers rolled over a few keys on the piano, the melodic sound calling to me. “Do you think Sal tampered with the brakes on Marcello’s car?”
“Marcello apparently thinks it possible. Him or Brandon, anyway.”
“What do you think?”
“I don’t think Sal has it in him to screw with me. Sounds like he was pissed and made a few empty threats. It didn’t help that Sal’s face looked like tenderized meat after Marcello finished with him.”
My eyes widened. I knew Marcello had done something to Sal, and the sad part was I didn’t even care. Unquestionably, a normal woman would have freaked out hearing that the man she was seeing beat the crap out of an ex. Not me, though, which wasn’t surprising considering criminals had raised me. Before Gavin, respectable guys with normal All-American jobs were an alien species to me. I didn’t like the idea of being with someone who wasn’t an alpha. I already tried that
with Gavin.
As for my dad not believing Sal was capable of being underhanded. Well, he was dead wrong. He was fucking Lettie behind her husband Pietro’s back. That took balls considering Pietro was a complete sociopath. He used to torture people in his basement, for God’s sake.
And Brandon, well, he was a complete punk, but I couldn’t imagine him actually doing anything to me. Especially when I basically offered him the ranch on a silver platter. It didn’t make sense. No, the car tampering had Sal written all over it.
“I don’t know about that. You didn’t see how crazy he acted.”
My dad grunted. “I’ll take care of Sal. You don’t need to worry about him. Do you have any interest in going to Italy with Lucca?”
“I don’t know Lucca, and I gave the police my passport. I don’t think that’s a real option, at least not until the investigation is over.”
“If you want to leave, you can leave. Some two-bit police department in the middle of Colorado can’t stop you. I have connect—”
“No. I’m not interested. Not yet anyway. I still haven’t given up on making a life for myself here.” What I really meant was I hadn’t given up on Marcello, but I wasn’t going to say that out loud.
My dad stood and patted me on the shoulder. “I’ll let Lucca know.”
His heavy steps marked his departure. Thoughts of Marcello and everything he promised cycled through my brain on repeat.
No!
I didn’t want to think about him. I needed to clear my head.
I jabbed at the piano keys aggressively, fragments of different songs flowing from my fingers. Disjointed and chaotic. After a few minutes, I gave up and settled on Ligeti Etude 13: The Devil’s Staircase. It started out rough, and I missed tons of notes, which wasn’t surprising. This piece in particular required a lot of dexterity with crossing over hands, large leaps and spans. I liked the constant upward movement symbolizing escaping from Hell on the devil’s staircase. It fit my current situation.
Half way through the piece, I caught my stride. It was as though I hadn’t played for days instead of years. Pumped on anger and frustration, I kept going. My hands and back ached, and I didn’t care. All I had was time and energy to burn.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SEVEN
Two days had passed, and I hadn’t done anything except play the piano. When my fingers, neck, and back couldn’t stand another second, I crashed on the couch, sleeping until my spiraling thoughts caught up with me, and I started all over. There was something cathartic about being so absorbed in the moment that I didn’t have a second to think about anything else outside of the little bubble I had created. It was freeing, exhilarating. As a bonus, I reclaimed a part of myself I had given up when I ran away.
I sat at the kitchen table, stuffing cereal in my mouth. I could hear my dad yelling at someone in the study. I didn’t give a shit who as long as it wasn’t me. I’d been at the receiving end of his temper enough times to want to avoid it if at all possible. Besides, I intended to shun the real world for a few more days. My father, Lucca, and Marcello could wait.
My cell phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out, curious if Brandon had reached out. He hadn’t, but Marcello had. He had sent several texts every day demanding I call him. I didn’t even bother listening to his voicemails. When he stopped by yesterday, I had my dad send him away. He could go fuck himself. I’d talk to him when I was ready and not a minute earlier.
I composed a quick text to Brandon, letting him know I’d have my attorney put a proposal together about the ranch. I deliberated for a second before pressing send, wondering if I was making a good decision. If he had anything to do with the crash, he could go pound sand. I’d subdivide the land into ranchettes and sell his legacy piece by piece. I deleted the text. The ranch could wait.
Instead, I sent an email to my attorney inquiring about the status of the investigation and the money my grandfather left me. I wanted to understand the terms of my inheritance firsthand and make sure nothing was left to chance.
Once that was done, I dumped my bowl in the sink and went back to the piano. I had a lot of lost time to make up for.
An hour later, someone came up behind me. I didn’t acknowledge their presence. He or she could wait. Better yet, they could go away. I didn’t want to join the world yet.
A finger tapped my shoulder, and I paused, my hands hovering above the keys, the last notes hanging in the air.
“Emilia?”
Frowning, I swiveled around. “Carmela, what are you doing here?”
Carmela smiled, the corners of her honey-colored eyes crinkling. “I’ve been summoned by the powers that be.”
“Ah, my dad called in the big guns.”
“Yeah, he’s concerned about you, but I wanted to talk to you. You know, fill you in on everything that happened since you left.”
Carmela had thumbed her nose at the family by choosing Kon, some guy wrapped up in the Russian mafia, over Nico DeAngelo. Nobody bothered to give me details after Carmela was kidnapped except to tell me she was safe. I pieced together some of the details from the conversations I’d overhead.
“I’m surprised you’re allowed to talk to me. Gian basically disowned me for letting you go to Nico’s house by yourself. He blamed me for everything that went down.”
I pushed back pain building in my gut. I didn’t want my cousins to hate me. I was trying to help Carmela, not hurt her. I didn’t realize she was in danger until it was too late.
Carmela chuckled and flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Don’t worry about Gian. He said a bunch of dumb stuff, but none of that was your fault. Things were set in motion long before that day you covered for me so I could see Kon and confront Nico.”
I rubbed my hands up and down my thighs. “Maybe so, but I should have stuck around or went into Nico’s with you. How are things with Kon?”
“Good. Good.” She sat down on the bench next to me. “Don’t tell anyone, but we’re getting married soon.”
My eyes widened. “Holy shit! You’re going to elope?”
She slammed her hand over my mouth. “Shhh. It’s a secret. Not even Gian knows.”
“He’s gonna freak.”
“Whatever. It’s my life.” She bumped her shoulder into mine. “So tell me what’s going on with you.”
“What’d you hear?”
“Not much except that you’re playing the piano all day, sleeping on the couch, and not bothering to shower.”
I stared at her for a second, yearning to confide in her. It had been so long since I had talked openly with anyone. After Lettie betrayed me, I was more than a little gun shy when it came to forming friendships with women. But Carmela…she was different. I liked her. I wanted her in my life, and that meant opening up and letting her in. Trust had to originate somewhere, and she offered me an olive branch by sharing things about Kon, first with their secret relationship and now their marriage.
“I don’t know where to start.”
“The beginning works for me.”
I told her how my mother played my father and Marcello’s father against each other, how they used me to heal the war between the Trassatos and the Masciantonios. I explained how I felt about Marcello and how he was supposed to marry someone else. I talked about how Gavin saved me, married me, and betrayed me. I told her about the investigation and how my Uncle Lucca hadn’t stopped bugging me about moving to Italy and starting over. Basically, I spilled my guts, and she listened to me, frowning, laughing, and even crying at points.
“What are you going to do now?” she asked.
I shrugged. “That’s a good question. I have no idea.”
“So you decided to hole up inside your house and play the piano to avoid making any decisions.”
I cringed at her assessment. “That sounds about right.” Carmela drummed her fingers on her thigh. Tap. Tap. Tap. I wanted to scream at her for judging me or being disappointed in me or whatever she was doing. “What are you thinking?”<
br />
“Well, I don’t want to upset you, so maybe I should keep my mouth shut.”
“You’re not going to hurt my feelings. Just spit it out already.”
“I think you should talk to him.”
“Who? Marcello?”
“Duh.” She rolled her eyes. “Who else would I be talking about?”
“I don’t know. What if he wants to marry this other woman and he was sowing his oats or getting closure before he ties the knot?”
“Is that what you really believe?”
I closed my eyes momentarily, images of the last week with Marcello rolling through my mind, and I came to the same conclusion. I thought he was sincere. I thought we had something. He couldn’t be that good of an actor, could he? And why would he bother with me? I wasn’t exactly the best choice for a fling. I came with enough baggage to fill a small city.
“No. It certainly didn’t seem that way.”
“Okay. Then there’s only one question you need to answer.”
“What’s that?”
“Are you a runner or a fighter?”
“I—”
She waved her hand, her eyes wide like I was about to confess to a crime. “Nope. You don’t have to answer right now. Think about it and then you can make your next move.”
“All right.” I laughed at her antics. “Did you want to go to lunch or something? I wouldn’t mind getting out of here for a little while.”
“I can’t. I’m meeting Kon, and besides, I don’t think anyone will let us wander around in public alone yet.”
My stomach knotted. “I thought you said Gian wasn’t mad at me.”
“He’s not, but you know him. He has control issues. Even though I’m with Kon, he still feels like he’s in charge of my safety.”
“I’m sure Kon loves that,” I shot back, the sarcasm in my voice obvious.
She shrugged. “Yeah, well, Kon’s not any better. In fact, now that I think about it, they probably coordinate their bodyguards so I don’t get suspicious.”
I scrunched up my nose. “Doesn’t that get old?”
The smile fell from her face, and her eyes were distant. “No. After everything that happened that day, I’m a little freaked out sometimes. I know those girls are gone and Nico, well, he won’t be bothering me anymore, but I was sure I was going to die that day. I just feel grateful that I have people in my life who care about me.”
