by Lisa Cardiff
“We’re in the kitchen, Emilia,” my father responded, his baritone voice echoing off the marble floors. My stomach knotted in apprehension.
“Ready for this?” I smiled even though my hands were shaking.
Marcello shrugged and pulled me forward. His polished, loose-hipped gait was on full display along with a faint smirk of male condescension. “There’s nothin’ to be nervous about. We’re both adults. We can do whatever we want. We don’t need anyone’s blessing.”
“I know. I just don’t want to alienate everyone in my life again.”
“There’s no reason for your dad to be upset. I know he was pushing you to rekindle things with Sal, but that’s history.”
“You’re right,” I mumbled, not sure I believed him. Despite all my father’s words about starting over and not interfering in my life, conversations with him never went the way I expected. He loved to throw curveballs.
“Hi.” I paused at the entrance to the kitchen, not sure what to do. My dad and Lucca sat at the counter, drinking wine and eating a platter of cured meat and cheese.
Lucca scrutinized our linked hands. “You worked things out, yes?”
I glanced at Marcello, then back at my father and Lucca. “Yeah, and we’re getting married tomorrow. I know it’s short notice, but it’s been a long time coming, and neither of us wants to wait any longer.” I blew out a breath. “It’d mean a lot to me if you both were there tomorrow.”
My father set his glass on the counter and steepled his hands together. “Sit. Both of you.”
This was the part I was afraid of. I slipped into the chair next to my dad. Marcello stood behind me, his hands on my shoulders. I nibbled on my lower lip, waiting for my father’s judgment, certain nothing he said would change my mind.
“Are you sure about this? As I understand it, Marcello has commitments—”
“I don’t care about any of that.”
My dad’s lips thinned in disapproval. “Well, you should at least go into this with your eyes open.”
I bounced my leg up and down on the rung of the stool. I shied away from challenging my father. One look from him and he made me feel like a child instead of a fully grown woman. “I am.”
“Then you understand that if the Rossi family believes Marcello screwed them over, you’re going to find yourself in the middle of a war. They could try to hurt you, and then the Trassatos will be sucked into it too. I don’t want to fight the Rossis in Chicago. I have enough on my hands here.”
I gripped the armrests so tightly, my knuckles whitened. “Marcello will take care of me. I trust him.”
His face tightened. “Is that right, Marcello? Can you promise me you’ll keep my daughter safe?”
“The Rossis aren’t going to be a problem, Dominick. I can’t share the details, but I give you my word that I’ve got this under control. I wouldn’t marry your daughter otherwise.”
My father leaned back in his chair, his eyes boring into Marcello. “You love my daughter?”
“I do.”
He stayed silent for longer than was comfortable, and just when I’d given up hope, he offered me an olive branch, one that left me believing we could have a real relationship built on trust and respect one day. “Then you have my blessing.” He lifted his wine glass and swirled the ruby red liquid. “Per cent’anni.”
“No!” Lucca jumped out of his chair and started pacing, his hands tugging at his hair. “This is bullshit. You’re not really going to let him marry your daughter. No. No. I forbid it! I didn’t stand up when my sister sold herself into this crappy life. I won’t fail her daughter, though.”
“Zio.” I reached out my hand in placation, and his eyes latched onto mine. Feral. Unhinged. Fiery. He didn’t look anything like the compassionate man I talked to earlier. “I appreciate your concern, but you don’t know Marcello like I do. We’re good together.”
He scoffed. “You naïve idiota. You don’t know anything about him. He’s a lying piece of shit.”
Marcello closed the space between him and Lucca. “Back the fuck off, Lucca. This is none of your business. A few minutes in Emilia’s life doesn’t give you the right to voice your opinion. Why are you still here? Don’t you have business in Italy to take care of?”
“Why am I here? Because you and Dominick made of mess of this last time. Look what happened. Emilia ended up married to some backwoods hick.”
“Are you sure it’s not because you already gambled away all your inheritance and you need Emilia in order to maintain the power in Italy? Yeah, that’s right, Lucca, I did my homework, and I don’t trust your motives for a second. You’ve never given a shit about Emilia and you don’t now. You should run back to Italy before everything collapses on your head.”
Lucca’s nostrils flared, he balled his hands into fists, and his eyes narrowed into slits. Testosterone hung in the air like a thundercloud ready to burst. He looked as if he were seconds from whipping out his gun and putting a bullet in Marcello’s head. Marcello didn’t even so much as flinch in response. He moved closer, his eerie blue eyes daring Lucca do to something, anything that would give him a reason to take him out. My body stilled, bracing for chaos.
Then the anger slipped off Lucca’s face as though it never existed in the first place, and a chill ghosted down my spine.
“He’s right, Lucca,” my father injected, defusing the situation. “This isn’t your place. Not even mine. I’ve tried to put a leash on Emilia before, and it doesn’t work. I don’t want to push her away again, so I’m letting her make her own decisions. While I have reservations about her marrying Marcello, she’s a woman now. She understands what she’s getting into. Besides, there’s a lot of bad blood between the Trassatos and the Masciantonios, and maybe this will finally put it to rest. It’s what your father wanted. It’s what Ava wanted.”
Lucca’s eyes landed on me. They were filled with hate, disgust, and something else, and I wondered why I didn’t see it before. He wasn’t some benign uncle; he was evil. Foreboding churned in my stomach, and as much as I wanted to look away, I couldn’t.
“You’ll regret this, Emilia.”
With those parting words, he stormed out of the kitchen.
My father patted me on my shoulder. “Don’t worry about Lucca. He’s always been a hothead. He and your mom used to go months without talking. Lots of bad blood there.”
Marcello wrapped his arm around me, and I slumped into his chest. His heart pounded steadily against his ribcage. Obviously, he wasn’t concerned about Lucca’s outburst. Maybe I didn’t need to be worried, either.
“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he said, soft enough that only I could hear.
“I know.”
And I did.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-FIVE
“Shh,” Marcello whispered as he kissed my forehead. “Go back to sleep, little one.”
I cracked open my eyes. “Where are you going?”
“I have some stuff to take care of before we head to the courthouse.”
I glanced at the still-closed windows. “What time is it?”
“Too early for you to get up if you want that beauty sleep you mentioned last night.”
Last night, Marcello did more than his fair share to keep my mind off the outburst from my uncle. I was sore everywhere, but it was the best kind of sore.
“No thanks to you,” I mumbled.
“Don’t worry. You have plenty of time to sleep and get ready. We aren’t leaving until two this afternoon.”
My mind swirled with everything I needed to accomplish before then. “But I need to get a dress. I wanted to get my hair and—”
“I took care of everything. A selection of dresses will be delivered at eleven. I have someone coming to do your hair and makeup at noon. And don’t worry, I’ll be in and out all day if you think of anything else.”
“When’d you arrange all of that?”
“Last night. Did I miss anything?”
I smiled
. “No. It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”
He chuckled. “Far from it, but it’s cute that you think so.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
I rolled onto my side and drifted off to sleep again.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-SIX
Marcello
I slid into the opposite side of the booth in Dominick’s bar, tucking my briefcase next to my side. This needed to be done in private without prying eyes, and this was the best option available on short notice. Dominick wouldn’t bother me, and the bar was closed until three.
“Rossi.”
“Marcello.” He held out his hand, and I eyed it for a second before cocking my eyebrow. I wasn’t in the mood for fake pleasantries today. I had a shitload of stuff to take care of before Emilia and I got married this afternoon. I only fit Rossi in my schedule because I didn’t want this bullshit with Sabrina hanging over my head on my wedding day.
He dropped his hand on top of the table, his eyes narrowing in anger. “Sabrina’s here with me. I told her to stop by the bar to join us in an hour.”
“You did what?” I was pissed off at his presumptuousness. What business did he have inviting his daughter when I hadn’t approved it? He knew this was Trassato territory. Even worse, the Smokin’ Gun was a seedy bar. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t open right now.
“I know, I know. I should’ve put my foot down, but she heard some rumors, and you know how she is,” he said, his eyes glued to his lap. “I told her you weren’t interested in the Trassato girl, but she wants to hear it from your mouth. Just tell her what she wants to hear and we’ll be good.”
“No.”
“I’m not demanding fidelity. I can’t stand my wife half the time, so I get where you’re comin’ from. Just show Sabrina some respect and tone things down with Emilia so there aren’t any rumors.”
Respect? Yeah, right.
“Our deal is null and void. I’m not marrying Sabrina. I’m marrying Emilia.”
“No fucking way. You’re not backing out now.” He slammed his fist against the table. “Don’t forget I know all of your secrets. I could fuck you over, and we’ll be right back where we started—in the middle of a fuckin’ war, everyone picking sides, good men dying. And I’d hate for your sister to be caught in the middle of it. You want that?”
Was he really threatening me with a war? Did he forget I could have him killed the second he walked out of this bar with nothing more than a nod in Johnny’s direction? I grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket, yanking him halfway across the table until we were nose to nose.
“Don’t fuck with me, Rossi. I’m out of patience with you. I tried to play nice, but you fucked me over. I had two conditions to marrying your daughter, and you broke both of them. In my book, that means we’re done. I don’t owe you or your daughter a damn thing.”
“You can’t do that. You’re outta your mind. I’ve done everything you asked. So has Sabrina.”
I snaked my hands around the back of his neck, slammed his face into the table, and dropped him like a boulder. Blood spurted form his nose like a water fountain.
“What the fuck?” he growled, his hands cupping his face.
“Tell me about these.” Reaching into my briefcase, I pulled out a handful of photos and tossed them on the table. Images of Sabrina in compromising positions with her loser ex-boyfriend and Rossi meeting with the Russians behind my back littered the surface.
His face turned red, and his eyes were watering. “These are old.”
“Are you calling my men liars?”
“They aren’t what they look like.” He couldn’t meet my eyes, and that said everything in a world where we did deals on a handshake.
“Don’t mess with me, Rossi. You won’t like the consequences.”
“I can explain.”
“I don’t need an explanation. I have pictures. You’re still makin’ deals with the Russians, and your daughter…” I didn’t bother finishing the sentence because there weren’t any words strong enough to describe what I thought of her and her bullshit games.
His Adam’s apple bobbed. “What can I do to make this right?”
“You can get you and your daughter back on a plane to Chicago.”
“Then what?”
I offered him a casual smile. “Then I’ll let you know if I’m feeling generous enough to forgive you.”
“And if you’re not?” His lips quivered as if the stone-cold reality of the situation was finally hitting him.
I patted him on his forearm and handed him a stack of paper napkins from the dispenser. “I’ll end you. And your daughter, well, she’d be lucky if I offered her a job rubbing up against a pole in one of my strip clubs instead of prostituting herself on the streets. Am I clear?”
His jaw locked, and he nodded.
“Glad we’re on the same page now,” I said, heading toward the front door. I shot Johnny a look, telling him without words to get Rossi out of there before he stirred up any more trouble.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-SEVEN
Emilia
Piano music floated into the bedroom, and I woke up, not sure where I was. Then it all came back to me. I was at Marcello’s New York apartment, and I was getting married today. I shot out of bed, too excited to sleep another second.
Still dressed in Marcello’s collared shirt and nothing else, I padded down the hallway. “Hello? Hello? Marcello? Are you here?”
I glanced around the living room. The TV was playing one of my old recitals from when I was only twelve or so.
Hm. Weird.
Maybe Marcello wanted me to see that he always kept me in his thoughts. I headed to kitchen in search of him. It was empty. I grabbed my phone off the kitchen counter to check the time. Nine in the morning. So much for that beauty sleep Marcello promised.
I slumped into a chair at the kitchen table and rested my head against the chilly marble surface, wishing I could summon the energy to crawl back into bed for a couple more hours. But I popped my head up almost immediately. Something caught my attention from the corner of my eye.
Next to the coffee maker, there was a simple gold band, sitting on top of a white envelope. Thinking maybe Marcello got it for our wedding today, I picked it up. My stomach dipped when I saw the inscription on the inside.
G + E
My stomach heaved, and I cupped my mouth, the cold band pressing into my cheek. It was Gavin’s wedding band. I didn’t want to jump to any conclusions about why it was in Marcello’s apartment, but my chest constricted with unspoken thoughts. As much as I wanted to forget I ever saw it, I knew I couldn’t. I pulled up Marcello’s name on my phone and called him. Before he answered, someone snuck up behind me, and a hand clamped around my mouth.
My entire body turned to ice when the barrel of a gun slammed against my temple.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-EIGHT
With my life hanging in the balance, one half of my brain shut off, frozen in the terror of my reality, and the other half floated above me, viewing the situation like an uninterested bystander, calculating and evaluating what to do next.
Move. Do something. Anything!
Tragically, the frozen half overrode the logical half, and I remained suspended in disbelief and horror, unable to do or say anything.
“You stupid bitch,” Lucca’s thick Italian accent finally penetrated the haze in my brain, “I told you you’d regret not coming with me when you had the chance.”
My mouth felt like someone had stuffed it with cotton balls, and I had a hard time responding. “Yeah,” I forced out in a muted voice, a cold sweat breaking out on my forehead. I held up Gavin’s wedding band. “I guess this being here makes a little more sense now.”
Marcello’s voice coming through the phone broke into our standoff. “Emilia? Emilia? Are you there?”
“Pick up the phone and tell him everything is fine. That you called by accident,” Lucca whispered into my ear, h
is breath boozy.
Fighting back a gag, I shook my head. He was going to kill me either way. If I lied to Marcello, he may never find out what happened to me. He may think I ran again. I couldn’t stand it if he spent the rest of his life hating me. Regretting us.
The click of the safety being released sounded as ominous as the timer on a bomb. “Do it,” he hissed. “Or I’ll kill Marcello the second he walks through that door, thinking he can be your knight in shining armor.”
His words were a kick to the gut. I refused to get Marcello killed. I had to find another way to alert him without tipping off Lucca, and there was only one thing that came to mind, except it was such an inconsequential exchange, the chances were slim he would catch on.
With shaking hands, I placed the phone to my ear. “Sorry. I was looking at pictures on my phone, and I accidently called you.”
“Pictures?” I could hear the suspicion in his voice, and I willed him to remember looking through my phone that night in the barn. He questioned me about not having a single photo. I’d told him I never had anything I wanted to take a picture of.
“Yeah. I wanted to remember everything that brought me to this moment. I have my whole life documented on my phone.”
“That’s right, I know how sentimental you are. I’m in the middle of something here, Emilia. I gotta go, but I’ll call to check in soon.”
“Okay. Bye,” I murmured right before the line disconnected. I closed my eyes briefly and silently prayed I’d make it out of this alive.
“Good girl.” Lucca snatched the phone out of my hand and turned it off.
“What do you want?” I said faintly, wondering if Marcello would make it to me in time.
“I didn’t want to do this, ya know? But you refused to see sense and come back to Italy with me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You had it in your head to marry Marcello. Nothin’ I offered was good enough. I’ve given you so many chances. So many warnings.”
