by Dana Delamar
Her attraction to him had always lurked in the background, but she’d done her best to ignore it, to keep Enrico firmly in the friend category, despite that easy smile, those deep brown eyes, that wavy black hair—she’d wondered more than once what it would feel like, running through her fingers. That strong, straight nose, that firm chin, that square jaw that all conspired to make him fashion model handsome. That deep voice with its upper-crust British accent and the liquid lilt of Italian as an undercurrent running through it. But now, after what had happened this morning, some traitorous part of her was thinking otherwise….
Cool it, Kate. She was not in the market for a new husband. Rather, she was in the market for a divorce.
She marched into the room and sat down behind the desk, wanting the expanse of wood between them. There, that was better. Much better.
He closed the door, then took the chair across from her. “You are not actually ill, yes?”
It was her turn to blush. “No. I needed to speak to you. Alone.”
He leaned forward and gestured toward her cheek. “May I ask what happened?”
So polite, this man. It brought tears to her eyes. He was nothing like Vince. “I’d rather not talk about it.”
“Kate, per favore, allow me to be frank. There is trouble between you and your husband, yes?”
She kept her eyes glued to the pathetic little plant on the corner of her desk. Her one attempt at making the cluttered office more homey. She opened her mouth to speak and found a lump in her throat that threatened to strangle her. Trying to speak around it, she managed a hoarse whisper. “Signore, I beg you not to mention it again.”
He sat back. “At least call me Enrico when you dismiss me.” He put enough lightness in his tone to tell her he wasn’t offended. “If you did not wish to talk about your husband, why did you want to see me?”
“Dottor Laurio is ill. And I need my paycheck for the month.”
“Ah.” He reached inside his jacket pocket and withdrew a fine leather wallet. “I assume cash will be preferable?”
“If you have that much on you.”
He smiled. “How much do I owe you?” She named the amount and watched as he counted out the bills and handed them to her. A thick stack of euros remained in his wallet. Who the hell carried that much cash around?
“Is there anything else I can do for you?” he asked.
Kate hesitated. How did she go about asking whether her husband was in the Mafia? Could she just come out with it, or should she hint at the subject? It was difficult to tell with Italians sometimes. They could be so oblique.
Clasping her hands together on the desk, she decided to go with the indirect approach. But first she’d put him in the hot seat. “Why do you have all the guards with you? Usually it’s just you and your driver. Antonio, isn’t it?”
“Actually, Antonio is my personal bodyguard. I have two. Ruggero is the other.”
Kate raised an eyebrow. “You have two bodyguards?”
“Well, four today, but Claudio and Santino aren’t always with me.”
“Okay, but why are they here now?”
When he rubbed his chin, she heard the faint scrape of stubble against his fingertips. “Unfortunately, Italy is not as civilized as you might think. The Mafia has a bad habit of kidnapping well-to-do businessmen. I received information today that suggests I am in imminent danger. Therefore, I must have protection. More than usual.” He let out a brief chuckle. “My insurer would lock me up without it. It is a bit of a nuisance, really. But there is a cost to having money.”
“But four guards? Really?”
“The ‘Ndrangheta has infiltrated all aspects of society here in recent years. It is worst around Milan, but they are here at the lake now too.”
“N-drang-ayta? What’s that?” Kate asked, her stomach tightening. Is this what Vince had gotten himself mixed up in?
“The ‘Ndrangheta is the Calabrian Mafia. The name means ‘The Honored Society.’”
“So they’re not part of the Sicilian Mafia? That’s the only one I’ve ever heard of.”
“Yes, the ‘Ndranghetisti are separate from Cosa Nostra. And they are much trickier for the law to stop.”
“Why?”
“Because the ‘Ndrangheta is organized along family lines—blood family. Any man who is caught will not easily turn on his father, his brothers, his cousins.”
Interesting. Vince worked for his uncle. It fit the profile. “How many ‘Ndrangheta families are there?”
“About one hundred and fifty. And each family has a boss who has no boss.”
Kate whistled. “A hundred and fifty bosses?”
“So you see the problem.”
“These are the men you have to watch out for?”
“Yes.” Apparently seeing the alarm on her face, he hastened to add, “Do not worry. You are probably not in any danger. They typically kidnap only the very wealthy. And they usually do not kill the people they kidnap. There is no money in that. They are, fortunately, a practical people.”
“Then why all the guards? It doesn’t sound so bad.”
“Their victims often do not go home in one piece.” He wiggled his fingers.
Kate felt faint. Oh God. “They cut off fingers?” What if Vince had done that?
“Proof of life. Or a threat of its opposite. It tends to motivate payment.”
“But wouldn’t they get paid anyway?”
“If the family can afford it. The ransom demands are often… exorbitant.” He smiled ruefully. “Millions of euros, usually.”
“I had no idea it was so lawless here.”
“Lawless? No. But certainly this is not America.” He paused and looked at her closely for a moment. “You did not ask me here to talk about my troubles.”
“It’s interesting though.” Kate wanted to keep him talking; she wasn’t quite ready to ask her question. “I want to learn more about Italy, and certainly the Mafia is a big part of this country.”
“Yes and no. The Mafia organizations are more pervasive in the south. In some towns in Calabria, every man is a member of the ‘Ndrangheta. That is hardly true here in the north. Still, they do have influence.”
“Only to the extent that criminals everywhere have influence.”
“That is where you are wrong. The Mafia controls much of the Italian state as well, from the Prime Minister down to the local chief of police.” He paused. “Even now, the Italian government is rewriting laws to avoid having to prosecute our Prime Minister, Italo Baldassare, on various Mafia-related charges.”
“Why don’t the people fight it? Why don’t they try to stop the Mafia?”
“The situation is complicated. Cosa Nostra and the ‘Ndrangheta date back over a hundred years. Originally, they protected villagers from bandits, and later they helped defeat the French. The Bourbons did not care about the Italian people. They just saw us as a source of revenue.” His smile was wry. “The Mafia had noble origins, noble intentions. And they still do in some cases. They help people who cannot find justice any other way. And they do help the less fortunate.”
Kate snorted. “You make it sound rather romantic. They kill people, Enrico. They would kidnap you and cut off your fingers if they could.”
“I do not disagree. But one cannot be Italian and not understand why they exist, what purpose they serve.”
“You can’t be noble and terrorize people at the same time.”
“You do not understand Italians, do you?” Enrico smiled at her.
“They’re just like other people.”
Shaking his head, he leaned forward. “Every Italian male thinks he is a prince. One must be a bigger, badder prince to get him to obey. Intimidation is all most Italian men understand.”
Kate smiled with her lips pursed. “You’re kidding me.”
“I am not.” He shook his head again, laughing.
“So what did you do to impress the men who work for you? What did you do to stop your competitors?”
Enrico’s smile faded and he sat up straight. “I did what I had to do. I put on a big, swaggering show. I dressed better, I thought better, and I was ruthless in my business dealings. I crushed some other companies. It was necessary.”
“Did you ever have business with the ‘Ndrangheta? Did they do your dirty work?”
He held her eyes. “Why are you asking me this?”
Her heartbeat accelerated. “That’s a yes, then.”
“Answer my question, and I will answer yours.”
She broke their eye contact and cleared her throat. “I suspect….” She stopped and started over. “You were married to Carlo’s daughter. So you know him well.”
“I do.”
“Is he….” Her voice failed her. “Is Carlo, is my husband, are they….” She looked up at him, hoping he’d finish her question. He didn’t. Shit. She was going to have to say it. “Are they part of the ‘Ndrangheta?” Her voice had fallen to a whisper.
He held her eyes for a second. “Yes.”
She froze, a chill hand sliding its fingers down her spine. Her chest squeezed by bands of iron, she could scarcely draw a breath. Vince was a mobster. What the hell am I going to do?
“Are you all right?”
She looked up at Enrico. She’d forgotten about him for a moment. Jesus. He could be a mobster too! Jumping to her feet, she backed away from her desk. She couldn’t leave the room without walking past him. What if he tried to stop her?
Enrico gave her a puzzled look. “Kate, please sit down. Please calm down. You are looking at me like I am a Mafioso too.”
“Aren’t you?”
Enrico laughed, perhaps a bit too loudly, and shook his head, trying not to betray his alarm. Dio mio, this woman. He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “No, of course not.” When he saw she wasn’t laughing, he motioned for her to sit down, and she slowly took her chair. He drew in a deep breath. He hated lying to her, but what alternative was there?
“I made a bad decision many years ago, and it has haunted me ever since.” He shifted in his seat. “Shortly after I married his daughter, Antonella, Carlo approached me about a business deal. I said yes, even though I knew it was not entirely legal.” He took another breath, noting her rapt attention. “I was young and greedy. I did not think I needed to consult my father.” He let a faint smile cross his face. “I was foolish.”
When he paused and didn’t immediately continue, Kate asked, “What was the deal?”
“I would own a series of legitimate businesses and allow Andretti to funnel some of his money through them.”
“Money laundering, you mean.”
He nodded. “After a time, I realized I was taking a substantial risk for only a small profit. So I tried to back out. Of course, Carlo told me that was impossible.” He smiled again, picturing what Carlo would have actually said in such a case. “So I thought I would force his hand. I started to skim off the top. When he caught me, I said that since he could not trust me, he ought to drop me as a partner.”
Kate looked at him, her mouth open. “Weren’t you afraid he’d have you killed?”
“I was nineteen. And naïve. I thought he would never harm me because I was his son-in-law. He loved Antonella more than anything. And she loved me. He would never devastate her by killing me.”
“So what happened?”
“He obviously did not kill me.”
“But?”
Should he tell her what Carlo had done to his family? No; it was too horrific. “He tried to have my father killed. He was badly wounded; he almost did not survive.”
Kate’s jaw dropped. “My God.”
Enrico nodded, letting his bitterness toward Carlo show. “So I gave up my foolish notions about getting him to leave me alone.” He paused. “As you have probably heard, Antonella died. Since then, I have been trying to extricate myself. Carlo, of course, is not pleased with my efforts.”
She stared at the papers on her desk. “Not pleased,” she murmured, then she looked up at him. “That’s why Vince hates you?”
“Carlo wants my head. To set an example.” He watched her, waiting for her to say more, wondering what he’d just done. Dio. He was in it now. Even if she didn’t take up with him, if she left her husband because of what he’d said…. Madonna. He was screwed either way.
She stared at him, her pale skin even whiter, the bruise on her cheek standing out even more. Her voice rose in panic, and the sound made him want to comfort her. “I’m leaving Vince, but how can I ever keep myself safe from him?”
Enrico leaned forward, the words leaving his mouth before he could stop them. “You could stay with me for a while. I could help you get out of the country.” A thrill ran through him, and his heart sped up. This was it. The declaration of war. This was madness, suicide. But he couldn’t turn his back on Kate, not when he was the only person who could help her.
She held his gaze for a moment, then shook her head. “I can’t do that.” Her eyes left his. “I barely know you.”
“You can trust me. I can keep you safe.”
“With a price on your head? No thanks. I’d be safer on my own.”
“Do you actually think a man like Vincenzo Andretti would let you walk away from him?” He looked at her cheek, then into her eyes. “That bruise is but a hint of his true nature.”
“You could be as much a bully as he is.”
“I would never hit a woman.” He paused, watching her closely. “Please trust me.”
Kate laughed, but it was bitter. “‘Trust me’ is what men always say right before they fuck you over.”
The balls on this woman! He almost laughed.
She sighed and rubbed her forehead. “Please forgive my language. I’m not myself right now.”
“If ever an occasion called for cursing, this is it.” He waited for her to respond, then he said, “Let me help you.”
Despair settled over her features. “I can’t.”
Pushing her wouldn’t work. Perhaps if she had time to reconsider. “As you wish.” He reached inside his jacket, retrieved a business card, and wrote on the back. “This is my private mobile number. Call me if you need help.” He set the card on her desk, then walked out.
Merda! That didn’t go well. That didn’t go well at all. He couldn’t leave her here, but he couldn’t force her to go with him either.
How the hell was he going to fix this?
He walked down the hall. Antonio and Ruggero should have been waiting for him outside her office. Why were they out front? He stopped. Dio mio. Two lapses from Ruggero in one day? Unheard of. Damn it all to hell. Now he had to replace Ruggero as well. Would this day never improve? Having to replace Ruggero was at least an improvement over getting a death threat. A smile crossed his face; the day was looking up after all.
He stalked out front and found his guards standing in a loose group, talking and smoking on the front stairs. He confronted Ruggero. “Why are you still out here?”
Ruggero gave him a bland look, then motioned Enrico a few steps away from the others. “I thought you wanted privacy.”
“Why?”
“The woman. You want her. She said she didn’t want us around. I thought….” He let a shrug speak for him.
It was that obvious. Had her husband seen it too? “You thought wrong.”
“If you say so.” Ruggero shrugged again, his hands clasped behind his back.
Now Ruggero was openly disagreeing with him? “I do say so.”
A slight smile appeared on Ruggero’s lips. “You’re a man without a woman. She’s beautiful. I can’t help but think that like the Lady Macbeth, you protest too much.”
Enrico stared at him open-mouthed. Ruggero read Shakespeare? He was full of surprises today. “When you’re right, you’re right.” He paused. “However, that is no excuse for laxness. When I want privacy, I will let you know.”
Ruggero bowed his head. “I beg your forgiveness, signore.”
Cristo. He’d just taken out his
frustration on the wrong person. “I need to think. I’ll be over there.” He pointed to a bench under a large tree.
He took a seat in the shade. How could he convince her to let him help? He ran through and discarded several ideas. Damn it, there was nothing he hadn’t already said. Maybe he just needed to say it again. Rising, he headed for the front stairs.
Walking back to his car, Kate’s overnight bag in hand, Vince shook his head, cursing. He’d been feeling bad for nothing. He had been right to hit her. She was cheating on him, just not with his uncle. Fucking Lucchesi. There was no doubt about the way Lucchesi had looked at her, the lust in his eyes. And Katie—God, Katie—she’d responded to him. Vince saw the way she’d touched her hair as she’d walked toward Lucchesi, the extra lightness in her step, the extra sway in her walk.
He’d barely been able to keep it together during the meet and greet on the steps. Now he knew why she’d wanted him out of her office so fast. It wasn’t just the overnight bag she didn’t want him to see. She’d probably been planning on fucking Lucchesi on her desk. God only knew how long that had been going on, right under his nose. He never should’ve encouraged her to take that damn job—
But that was all part of the plan to get close to Lucchesi, to find a way to take him out. If he got rid of Lucchesi, Uncle Carlo would reward him. Very, very well. He’d even hinted that someday Vince might be in charge of the Andretti cosca. There was no love lost between Carlo and Dario, that was for damn sure. Oil and vinegar, those two.
Dario rubbed him the wrong way too. At least he always knew where he stood with Carlo. With Dario, it was anybody’s guess. If Carlo had been his pop, he might have done what Dario did—kept his big mouth shut in self-defense. But that wasn’t a major problem for Vince; he and Carlo got each other. They both wanted to be top dog, and he was willing to put in the work to get there. He was learning a lot from Carlo; the old guy was a nasty SOB, but he was smart. And he knew how to inspire cooperation. Nobody dared cross him.
