by Dana Delamar
“Carlo cares about money more than he cares about Vincenzo’s pride. We can fix this.”
“At what cost?”
Enrico shrugged. “Perhaps we give him the meat-packing business in Milan.”
“You will give him millions over this woman?”
“If I have to.”
Dom went red, his voice taking on an ugly tone. “You say that like it’s nothing. And maybe it’s not to you. But that’s taking food off my table.”
Enrico snorted. “Your family is hardly starving.”
“I have four children, and I’ll soon have grandchildren. Not to mention my staff, my men. All of that costs money.”
“You mean my staff, my men.”
Dom uncrossed his arms, pointing a thumb at his own chest as he spoke. “I give them their orders, don’t I? I run the business day to day, while you fritter away your time mooning over your dead wife. And now this American.” He threw his hands up in the air. “You are out of control. Your father would never be so cavalier about chopping up the business. And all of this just to satisfy your lust.”
Enrico’s face flamed. “That’s not true.”
“It is true. And it’s my job to make you see sense. Or take over.” He held Enrico’s eyes, his jaw set like a pit bull’s.
A cool tingle of adrenaline ran down Enrico’s back, cranking up his pulse. The threat was real. Although Enrico’s father had been the capo di famiglia of the Lucchesi cosca, Dom was a Lucchesi too, and he had several sons to carry on, a clear line of succession. He had proven himself a strong and competent capo di società, and his management of daily operations was unquestioned.
Time to switch tacks. “Dom, do you love me, as your cousin, as your brother?”
“Of course.”
“Then why deny me my happiness?”
Dom stared at him. “You can be happy with Delfina Andretti or some other girl of your choosing. Perhaps my Bianca. You haven’t even tried to find another.”
“And if I do try and I am not happy?”
Dom crossed his arms again. “This is foolishness. So much sentiment over a woman.”
“I’ve never understood, cousin, how your heart can be so cold on the matter.”
“Remember how you felt when Antonella died? Why go through that again?”A strained note ran through Dom’s voice.
“Because I have no choice. You have no choice. You think you have hardened your heart. But it will break just the same.” Dom’s first wife had died in childbirth; the baby, a boy, had been stillborn.
Dom stared at the dark window that looked over the garden and the lake, even though he could see only his own reflection. “It won’t.”
“For your sake, I hope it does.”
“You would wish that on me again?”
Enrico softened his voice. “I’ve learned life is not worth living without love.”
Dom snorted. “You’re being melodramatic.”
“I’m being honest.” He waited a moment, then continued. “Do you love your children any less because Angelo died?”
Dom avoided Enrico’s gaze, then shook his head, his voice hoarse when he answered. “No. But I do not love Francesca the same as Vanda.”
“That is your choice.”
“I learned my lesson. When will you learn yours?”
“That is a lesson I don’t care to learn.”
“I can’t allow you to continue to put our family at risk over this woman.”
“I’ll fix this.”
“I wish I could believe you.”
“So, what if I romanced Delfina? And what if I decided I still wanted Kate? What then?”
Kate pressed her ear against the door of Enrico’s study. She could make out some of what Enrico and his cousin were saying, but most of it puzzled her. They were speaking in dialect—she supposed it was Calabrian—and most of the words were unfamiliar. But she picked out a number of names, Carlo’s, Vince’s, and Antonella’s among them, and she was sure she’d been mentioned—she’d heard Enrico say her name and then she’d heard “questa Americana” quite clearly, and Dom didn’t sound the slightest bit happy when he’d said it either. But why were they talking about Carlo’s granddaughter Delfina? There was a long silence, then she heard Dom’s voice again.
“If your American would have you—if she would have the family—I would agree. But only if you try with Delfina first.”
A worm of unease crawled through Enrico’s gut. “You’ve already spoken to Dario.”
“I have. And he agreed to consider it.”
“I’ve made no promises. Carlo will never forgive me if he thinks I’ve broken a betrothal to his granddaughter on top of everything else.”
“I’m perfectly aware of that.” The pit bull was back, and now Enrico knew why.
“You already arranged it. It’s done, yes?” He held his breath, hoping he was wrong.
“It’s all but done. Or at least it was.”
Anger frothed up in him, hot and thick. Enrico jumped up and paced away from Dom. “How could you do that without speaking to me?”
“We had spoken. You seemed amenable to it. Unless, of course, you were lying to me.”
“You did this on purpose.”
The challenge in Dom’s gaze was clear. “Someone had to make you see sense. Someone had to save this family.”
“How am I going to get out of this?”
Dom smiled without mirth. “So you were lying to me.”
“It is a good idea. I just—I don’t want to do it. Unless I can’t have Kate.”
“Make her your mistress if you have to.”
“No.” His tone was final. “You have overstepped your bounds.”
“My job is to watch over you and advise you, and to take action if you do something unwise. That’s what I’m doing. No one would disagree.”
Blood thundered in Enrico’s ears and a pressure rose in his chest. “Do you really want to be capo? Do you really want the weight of all this, the scrutiny, the target on your back?” He paused, eyeing his cousin. “Do you think you can steer this family better than I have? Do you think you have the long-term vision to strengthen us in the twenty-first century?”
“It’s an enormous responsibility. I’m aware of that.”
Enrico spoke slowly, enunciating every word to keep a leash on his fury. “Do you think you can do it better than me? Because if you do, I will give you the job.”
Dom looked up at him. “You’ve always known what to do. You’ve led us well, I can’t deny that. And I do lack your foresight. But I can’t let you put this family at unnecessary risk.”
“What are you saying? Do you want it?” He held his cousin’s eyes, the rushing of blood in his ears the only sound he could hear.
“Not yet,” Dom finally said, his eyes not leaving Enrico’s. The pit bull would not back down so easily.
Enrico’s stomach filled with acid. “I don’t like your tone.”
“And I don’t like your recklessness. Are you trying to get us all killed?”
“Since you are not willing to call for an election, this conversation is over. You will respect my authority.”
“And you will respect my position as your second. You must marry Delfina Andretti. It’s the only way to resolve this.” When Enrico started to speak, Dom held up a hand to silence him. “It’s the only solution the cosca will accept. You’ve taken an enormous risk. I can’t support you with any other solution.” He paused. “Would you have us both lose our heads over this?”
Dom was right, damn it all. But Enrico, not Dom, was still the best choice as capo. The family needed him, more than it ever had. The entire world was changing, and the ‘Ndrangheta had struggled to change with it. Enrico was one of the few capi among his colleagues who had the education and foresight to guide the clans in the right direction. Without him, the ‘Ndrangheta would never return to the old codes. They would be men of honor no more.
“No.” Enrico swallowed hard. His future with Kate, his h
opes for revenge against Carlo were slipping away. He felt sick, his insides corroding, but he was damned if he’d let it show. “I will marry Delfina Andretti, if there is no other way.”
Had she heard correctly? The words were different, but it sounded like Enrico was getting married to Delfina. Kate’s brow wrinkled. Why would he marry the granddaughter of the man who hated him? And why didn’t he act like a man in love? If he still couldn’t take off his wedding ring, he was in no condition to marry someone else. And he seemed to be… interested in her. Had she entirely misread him? Did he really want to marry a girl half his age?
Unless… this was his solution, how he was going to solve his problem and hers. If he married into Carlo’s family again, he’d have to give in to Carlo. And it would be to Carlo’s advantage to go back to business as usual.
But the solution didn’t make her happy. Enrico shouldn’t marry someone he didn’t love. Especially not to save her. She heard Dom speak again, but his voice was low, and she strained to hear it.
“There is no other way, Rico.” Dom’s tone was gentle.
There had to be another way. There had to. “I’ll try talking to Carlo first. To see if there is a solution I can arrange with my personal assets. Agreed?”
Dom didn’t immediately answer. He looked away from Enrico for a few moments. When he finally spoke again, his voice was hard. “Agreed. But do not endanger the family again over her.”
“I won’t. You have my word.”
Enrico walked over to the liquor cabinet and picked up the bottle of sambuca. “Shall we drink to it?”
Dom nodded and held up his glass. As their tumblers met with a clink, he said, “You know I hate fighting with you.”
Enrico grinned. “Especially since you never win.”
“I beg to differ.” But Dom was smiling.
Enrico hoped things were all right with them. And he hoped he could keep them that way.
“I hope she’s worth it,” Dom said.
The softness of his tone made Enrico look closely at him. “She is.”
Kate pressed her ear harder to the door, but she couldn’t hear what they were saying. Their voices had dropped, and all she heard was murmuring. Was Enrico getting married or not? It was tough to say. She wished her Italian were better, and she wished she knew their dialect. So many of the words were strange to her.
And there had been enough talk of “family” and enough mentions of capo earlier to make her wonder. She knew that Italian CEOs were also called capo. But so were Mafia dons. Had Enrico lied to her? Just what the hell had she gotten herself into?
She listened for more, but she heard only murmurs, then laughter. Then the sound of footsteps headed for the door. Her heart skittered in her chest. She sprinted down the hall, trying to land on the balls of her feet instead of the heels, hoping they couldn’t hear her mad dash for the dining room. Enrico couldn’t know she’d been spying.
CHAPTER 7
Damn him. Damn Enrico Lucchesi to hell.
Dom slammed his fist against the steering wheel, then turned the key and listened to the Lamborghini’s engine roar to life. He slammed the wheel again. Why did Rico have to be so damn stubborn? Shaking his head, Dom settled back into the leather seat. Putting the car in drive, he tromped on the gas, spraying gravel behind him.
He drove the car through the hills, still burning from their discussion. It had taken everything he had to leave the house with a smile on his face.
So Rico thought he could get away with taking Andretti’s wife, thought he could have his cake and eat it too, and not get killed for it. Why was he at all surprised? Rico was being his usual unrealistic self. And it would be up to Dom to get them out of this mess, since Rico didn’t seem that interested in handling it.
Just like he no longer took any interest in the day-to-day operations. Dom had given Rico a break when Antonella fell ill, but that break had never ended. It had been over two years since Rico had given a damn about anything—other than his love life. First, there was the grieving over Antonella. Then the disaster with Fiammetta and her father.
Despite everything Franco Trucco knew, Rico had refused to get rid of him. Instead he’d tried to paper over the mess with money. If it had been up to Dom, Trucco would be buried alongside his daughter. Fortunately, Trucco had worked for the Lucchesis for too long to have lost his loyalty to the cosca. However, that didn’t mean he wasn’t still dangerous to Rico.
But this—this madness with the American, this threatened them all. Carlo would not stop until he’d crushed the Lucchesi cosca to dust.
Carlo was no Franco Trucco. Dom had his own future and that of his children to look out for. If Rico wouldn’t fix things with Carlo, then Dom would. No matter what the cost.
He loved Rico, loved him like a brother. But he hated him too, as only a brother could. Rico had been made capo when he obviously hadn’t wanted it, even though Dom had been ready and more than able. But Rinaldo had of course favored his own blood over his brother’s.
In some ways, being number two was better—he had so much of the power and the rewards, without the scrutiny and the enmity that came with being the don. And when Antonella had proved barren and Rico had stubbornly refused to annul the marriage? So much the better. Dom and his sons would inherit the cosca, they would run it, after Rico died.
But not if Rico fathered an heir. Not if Carlo succeeded in destroying the Lucchesi cosca.
What would happen if Rico didn’t see reason? What would happen if he raised a son—especially one with the same ridiculous principles—who would take over some day? What would happen to the cosca, to everything Dom had worked so diligently to build, to secure? Rico and his principles, Rico and his soft heart, would piss all that away, would get them all killed.
Dom had done his job as capo di società, and had done it well. No one could claim otherwise. He’d given Rico good counsel, had warned him of the consequences of his actions, had tried to make him see reason. He’d done what he could for Rico—he’d even offered up his own daughter to solve this madness. But it was time to cut Rico loose.
Tears threatened to unman him. Dom gulped down air and widened his eyes, blinking rapidly, swallowing down the rock in his throat. He loved Rico, he did. But he had no choice.
It was up to Dom to stop him, up to Dom to save the family and their future.
Up to Dom to make the tough choices, as usual.
CHAPTER 8
Kate had barely sat down again at the dining room table and caught her breath, when she heard the front door close and Enrico come into the room. He took his seat and glanced at her plate. It remained almost untouched.
“Are you not hungry?”
“I am.” She took a hasty forkful of the now-cold risotto. “I was just waiting for you.” She paused, then asked, “Is everything all right with your cousin? I heard raised voices.”
“From here?”
She flushed. Stupid! She shouldn’t have mentioned it. There was no way she could ask questions about what she’d heard.
“We must have been louder than I thought,” he said. “It is nothing. Just a disagreement on a business matter.” He studied her carefully. “Are you unwell? You look feverish.”
Kate cursed her red cheeks. “I’m okay, really.” Though she really wasn’t. Could she trust this man? Had he lied about everything?
He rose from his seat and walked over to her. Placing one of his hands on his own forehead, he extended his other hand toward hers to check her temperature. “May I?”
She nodded, feeling foolish. Really, would a Mafia don give a crap if she had a fever? She felt his cool palm press against her forehead. He frowned. “You seem a little warm.”
“I’m fine. No shivers, no stomachache. Just a little headache.”
His hand dropped from her forehead to caress her cheek, his fingers skimming over the bruises Vince had left. Then his thumb traced over her swollen lip, his face darkening. “I could kill him for this.”
Kate felt a jolt. Did he mean that? He looked so grave. She didn’t want him to do something foolish; he’d already taken enough risks for her. “I’m okay. Just a little beat up. I’ll be fine in a few days.”
He crouched down beside her and took her hands in his, resting them in her lap. “I am sorry I was not there earlier, to spare you this pain.” His hands squeezed hers. “I will protect you from now on. I swear it. You will never be unsafe again.”
Kate’s throat constricted painfully and tears threatened to spill down her cheeks again. Jesus, how did he know just what to say? This man who looked at her with such tender eyes couldn’t possibly be a mobster. Certainly her faulty Italian was to blame for what she thought she’d overheard.
Enrico leaned forward, one of his hands going to the back of her chair, the other releasing her hand and cupping her knee. He was now just inches from her, his eyes darkening with care, with… desire. Kate inhaled in surprise, her body suddenly on alert. He smelled sharply masculine, like citrus and pine trees mixed together, a hint of something that was all him underneath. He was too close, much too deliciously close. Her heart hammered out of control. She should stop this. She was still married, even if her husband had tried to kill her.
Enrico let go of her knee and placed his fingers under her chin, tilting her mouth to meet his. Kate stiffened, but after his lips touched hers, she relaxed. She did want this. After all that had happened today, she needed a distraction. And Enrico qualified as a big distraction. As well as a big “fuck you” to Vince. After all, why should she feel any loyalty to a man who wanted her dead? A man who’d called her a whore?
And so what if Enrico was thinking about marrying someone else? All the better. She had no intention of staying here, with him. She wanted out of Dodge, as soon as possible.
