"Don't be ridiculous," I scoffed.
"You're only prolonging the inevitable. When he finds out, and Samara, he will find out, you had better hope that he loves you enough to shield you from the flames," Jasper huffed. "I can't even understand what you were thinking. Lying to me about that, and then not telling them. You're smarter than that."
"I thought that I wouldn't let any of you pay the consequences for my decisions. I married him. I stayed with him after the first time he hit me, and then the second and the third. I forgave him. Nobody else did that, so when it escalated, I had no one to blame but myself!"
Jasper paled, standing from his chair abruptly. "Don't you dare. You are not responsible for what he did."
"You're right. I'm not, but I am responsible for the fact that I was there. I ignored the warning signs, and I paid the consequences for that. Now, it's done. Now, I can move on, and I want to do that with my best friend, brother, and boss walking free and not visiting them behind bars!"
"Samara," he whispered, his brow furrowing as if my words hurt him physically.
"I already ruined my life. I won't ruin theirs too." Turning on my heel, I strode out of the office and closed the door behind me.
My desk chair was a welcome respite, and I tucked myself into it and woke up my computer. After a few deep breaths, I felt stable enough to get through the rest of my day.
And I did just that.
Four
Lino
Campbell had the sense to look nervous as he stepped into my office at Indulgence. No matter how much I wanted to give him his latest job and send him off to do it, we both knew I couldn’t ignore the way he’d failed with Ivory. The man wasn't dumb, and he had long since heard the news that Matteo had claimed her in every way a man could claim a woman.
I knew that Matteo had relayed him a message too.
"Sit down," I said, gesturing to the seat on the other side of my desk. I barely glanced up from the contract sitting on my desk, letting him wait for a few moments. "Matteo isn't pleased."
"I couldn't have known about the robbery before him. She went straight to his place after it happened," he protested.
I raised an eyebrow at him, finally glancing up into his ruddy face. "Ivory Torres was assaulted in a club nearly a decade ago. Why wasn't Matteo made aware of this?"
He blanched. "I—I didn't know. She never filed a report."
"You were supposed to keep tabs on her," I pointed out.
He laughed. "Keeping tabs and stalking are two very different things. Bellandi only wanted to know if she was in danger, otherwise she was persona non grata, and he didn't want to hear about it. I didn't follow her every step of her life, and if something happened, then there would be no way of me knowing. She never saw a shrink. Never went to the police. There was nothing to find, Lino."
I nodded, because I'd expected an answer like that. As much as Matteo loved Ivory, in their years apart even the mention of her name was enough to send the man spiraling into a violent rage. He wouldn't have wanted to know about her daily life, about the men she may have dated. It would have driven him crazy. "I need you to look into someone for me."
"What's the name?" he asked, pulling a small notepad out of his back pocket. Old-fashioned as always, but he was damn good at his job.
"Connor Walsh."
"Why does that sound familiar?" he asked as he jotted the name down. His pen looked ancient, and the way it scratched at the paper made my skin crawl.
"You ran him a few years back. I need an update now that they're getting divorced."
"Ah, the one who married your pretty friend. Samara Walsh?"
"Mahoney. She never took his name."
Campbell chuckled. "Well, from the impression I got that must have pissed him right off."
"I'm sure a lot of things about Samara pissed him off," I agreed. "She's not exactly the type who belongs with a domineering bastard like that, but she's a grown ass woman and has to make her own decisions. Or so she likes to remind me, anyway."
Another chuckle, and I'd known Campbell long enough to know he commiserated with me. His own wife was like an older, more stubborn version of Samara. There should be a special club for men like us, who had women who drove us crazy, and we loved every second. Because even while we loved it, I knew my Little Dove made me want to tear my hair out.
Frequently.
But I very much looked forward to the day when she could tear it out for me.
While she was underneath me. Right where she belonged.
Damn the consequences.
"Alright, I'll run a background check," Campbell said.
"No. I want surveillance. I want to know where he goes, what he does. If he so much as looks at Samara wrong, I want to know about it. He's fighting the divorce, and she's keeping secrets from me. I want to know exactly what they are."
"You want me to look into her too?" Campbell asked, and even though I thought about it, I decided against it.
"Let's start with him. If she finds out I had her followed, she'll lose her shit. If nothing comes up with him, then we'll reconsider."
"Good plan. I'll start today." He stood from the chair, making for the door without so much as a glance my way to say goodbye.
"Campbell? You find something, I want to know as soon as you find it. Got it?"
"You got it Mr. Bellandi."
I nodded, dismissing him out the door of the club.
✽✽✽
The Bellandi Estate was far too much house. How Ivory had adjusted to living in it so smoothly given her circumstances was beyond me. She waddled around in the kitchen, ignoring the way Donatello fussed over her and begged her to go sit down. But the woman was already past her due date and pissed about it.
"Angel, would you sit before you give Don a heart attack, please?" Matteo chuckled from his seat on the island stool next to me. I nearly laughed out loud, considering how much he'd hovered when she'd first started showing what seemed like a lifetime ago.
"You heard the doctor. Movement is good for me, walking helps bring on labor sometimes," Ivory protested, walking to the other side of the kitchen to grab the sugar she needed for whatever chocolate deliciousness she was mixing.
"I don't think pacing around in the kitchen is what he had in mind. A walk around the property in the fresh air would be more accurate."
"Have you been outside today, you hermit?" After the stand mixer stirred for her, she poured the batter into the pan and let Don bend to put it in the oven, thankfully.
I wasn't sure she could bend that far anymore.
Matteo grinned at her back as she strutted over to Smaug's tank, lifting him out gently and cooing at him affectionately. The lizard was more spoiled than most children. "I haven't, no. Why would I when I have everything I could ever want in my kitchen?"
"Daww," I teased. "I'm so glad I'm everything you could ever want, Teo."
"Don't call me that," Matteo warned, waving a finger at me. My eyes tipped over to Ivory where she continued to pace about the kitchen and only spared her husband a single, bored glance.
The joys of pregnancy.
"It's freezing outside, so the kitchen it is. Little Luna needs to come. I am not having a C-Section, do you hear me Matteo Bellandi?" Her face hardened into a glare that would terrify most men. Matteo was braver than me, or just plain stupid. Personally, I thought the latter.
"Whatever you say, cara mia," he murmured in that gentle voice I'd thought I would never hear from my hardened cousin. Satisfied with his agreement, Ivory nodded and kept walking. Smaug snuggled on the shelf her protruding belly presented, clinging to her sweater lightly. He hung out there more than on her shoulder since her belly had gotten big enough, staring up at his owner in awe like he knew exactly what kicked at him periodically from inside her stomach.
Some people had guard dogs. Luna had a guard gecko.
Totally normal.
Matteo turned a bright grin my way, and I knew what that meant. "How's Samara?"
"Just fine? Not jumping your bones yet?" he asked, drawing a little giggle from his wife. How Samara could be so oblivious to what was happening between us when everyone around us saw it so clearly, I would never know. Sometimes it felt like she'd built walls so tall that she couldn't see over them.
"I'm waiting until the divorce is final. I won't make her mine when she still has a husband." I shrugged like the timing was inconsequential, even if it killed me more and more every day that I held true to the promise I'd made myself. I'd wanted to claim her as soon as Matteo claimed Ivory for himself, knowing my cousin would have my back and help me protect Samara the way he protected Ivory.
Instead, I'd done the right thing. It was vastly overrated, but after wasting this much time, I couldn't bring myself to break my vow. "The divorce still isn't finalized?" Ivory asked, and I hated the way her voice morphed with concern. She'd only met Connor a few times in passing before they separated, since she and Samara had barely spoken before she reunited with Matteo, but even she hadn't formed a positive opinion of the man.
"She said he's fighting it, and since he has all his resources at his disposal, he's holding up the process." I shrugged, because that was as much as I knew, even though it frustrated me to no end. There had been a time when Samara told me everything, and even the things she didn't say outright, she said in every other way. But the past couple years she'd been distant, like some secret plagued her, and she couldn't open up to me the way she once had.
I hated it.
I'd been patient, but that time had come to an end.
"And why haven't you backed her up?" Matteo looked at me like I'd grown a second head.
"I've been respecting her boundaries. She asked me not to get involved, and I wanted to give her that, stupidly." I huffed a laugh. I didn't say it, but I remembered how close Matteo had come to losing Ivory because of his willingness to cross boundaries that shouldn't have been crossed.
"I hate to say it," Ivory whispered, clenching her eyes closed like it pained her to admit. "But it's been over nine months. I think it's time that you interfere. Just don't tell her I said that. Girl code," she said with a humorless chuckle.
Donatello left the room, and I knew it was because he had no interest in talking about Samara. He loved her like a daughter, had watched her grow up in the same way he'd been there for Matteo and I. The prospect of interfering in her life without her consent wasn't something he would take lightly. Even if he would ultimately side with Matteo and I when it came to her safety.
"I'm already working on it," I admitted. The way Ivory's face filled with relief made something in my chest tighten. I'd waited too long to interfere. If Ivory thought so, then I really had given Samara too much time to figure it out on her own.
"Good. Connor really gives me a bad feeling, Lino. I'll feel much better when all the ties are severed."
"You and me both, sweetheart," I agreed.
Maybe I'd finally start sleeping again once I knew Samara was mine. I had a feeling I'd have a much greater incentive to stay in bed when I couldn't sleep at the very least. Having her waiting there for me would mean I never wanted to leave.
Five
Samara
Making my way into the Bird Lounge on Tuesdays was something that never seemed to get any easier. The memory of the days when I'd gotten up on the stage and sang was nothing but a distant memory that ate at me every day. It was one that I wanted to change, something I wanted to take back after the years of Connor convincing me I couldn't sing. The guitar in the case at my side felt weighted, and I pointedly had to ignore the glances of the few people who still recognized me for the regular I'd once been.
Singing had never been a career path for me, even when I'd let Lino convince me I had a voice worth listening to, but that didn't mean that my soul didn't miss the way it felt to sing on stage. Even if Lino had never come to the Bird Lounge with me, I saw him everywhere. Felt his presence in the very venue, given that I'd chosen it for the name.
His Little Dove singing at the Bird Lounge.
I'd always thought to bring him there one day, to show him what I could do when someone believed in me.
When he believed in me.
But those days were gone, Lino's position in my life solidified with all the years wasted between us and all the bittersweet memories I had of him as my best friend.
So watching someone perform on the stage, the stage I knew I wouldn't perform on that night the moment I walked into the door, I settled into my chair as an observer. Her voice was deep, raspy. Seductive rather than the clear twang of my own. Everything I wished I had for myself. I sipped at the beer I'd grabbed from the bar, smoothing a hand down my fitted skirt. The sleek fabric was a contrast to the cashmere sweater that hung off my shoulders loosely, and the fabric inched up my thighs when I crossed my legs.
A glance over to the bar confirmed the man who had been watching since I entered still sat there with his eyes on me. I ignored it in favor of feeling the music pulse through my veins. I felt the moment he stood, far too aware of all the men in the room. I wished I could go back to the days when I didn't feel like a victim swimming in shark-infested waters. I wished that I could erase the scars the assault left me with.
"You getting up there tonight, sweet thing?" he asked, helping himself to the other chair at my high-top table. I smiled politely, inching as far to the opposite side as my chair would allow.
"Not tonight."
"You brought a guitar. Just like every Tuesday." His green eyes angled down to look at the case propped against my chair.
I fought down the discomfort of him having seen me before. Lots of people went to the Bird Lounge for open mic night. It didn't mean he was a stalker or meant to harm me. "Not feeling it tonight," I whispered, feeling my pulse quicken when he leaned closer into my space.
"My friend over there says he heard you sing once. Said your voice is as pretty as you are. I told him that wasn't possible. How about you prove me wrong?" he pushed, his hand coming so close to mine that it almost touched my beer bottle.
"I'm not interested in proving anything to anyone," I hissed. "I sing when I want to. Not on command."
"Aw, don't be like that, baby," he murmured, reaching toward me until his finger skimmed against my forearm. I flinched back, standing from my stool quickly and gathering up my guitar. "Hey, where are you going?" He was to his feet before I could make my retreat, blocking my path to the door. I knew it was ridiculous. He couldn't hurt me in a room full of witnesses, but the inability to escape, being trapped, was too familiar to the way Connor had cornered me all those months ago.
"Let me leave." My voice shook with the words, and I knew a crowd was forming, to my horror.
His hand touched my arm again, successfully gripping lightly. There was a genuine apology on his face, seeming to realize he'd frightened me somehow. "I didn't mean to scare you."
"Let go of me, please."
"Sweetheart," he whispered, his brow furrowing in confusion.
"I believe she said to let her go. Given she's Bellandi property, you might want to listen," a male voice interjected, and I turned to find Rex staring him down from the bar. "You alright, Samara?"
The offending man dropped my arm quickly at the mention of the Bellandi's, and I turned to give Rex a grateful smile. "I'm good, honey," I whispered, ignoring the pointed look he gave me as he studied the way I rubbed at my arm as if I could wash the other man's touch off me. "I best be getting home. I'll see you."
And like the coward I was, I adjusted my grip on my guitar and bolted out the door. "Mike will walk you to your car!" Rex called, and I didn't bother to argue. Mike took up his place at my side as we made our way outside, a silent sentry that I appreciated in the face of the realistically minor altercation inside.
"You okay?" he asked when we reached my car.
"Yeah, just ju
mpy. One of those days, you know? Got a bad feeling," I lied, giving him a self-deprecating shake of my head. He slipped his card into my hand.
"You call me if you need anything, Samara. My sister," he paused, seeming to consider if he should voice whatever thoughts coursed through his head. "She was jumpy like that after a bad breakup. He out of the picture?" he asked.
"I'm working on it," I admitted, not even bothering to deny the silent accusation behind the weight of his comparison to his sister.
"You call me if he gives you a hard time again. A man like that deserves to know what it is to be a punching bag for someone bigger than him." I huffed a laugh, because bigger was an understatement. Mike was a massive mountain of a man who made even Matteo seem small, when you considered pure size, anyway.
"Yeah, Mike. I'll call you," I agreed, hefting the car door open.
"Liar," he accused. "You'll take a beating before you call me. Ain't no shame in asking for help when you need it."
I turned wide eyes his way, having never heard the normally calm, mellow man sound even remotely annoyed. The snap to his voice seemed uncharacteristic of him, totally at odds with the man I'd known casually for over five years. "You don't know a damn thing about my situation. He's out of the house, doesn't touch me. I got myself into this without help, and I'll do this without help too."
"Bellandi claims you as family. Why isn't it already taken care of?"
"Because I'm not actually family. I take care of my own problems, and I don't need a man to fix my problems for me." I dropped into the seat, looking back up at Mike through the open door. "I'd appreciate your discretion. This is something I just need to take care of on my own. Can you respect that?"
"Of course. Not gonna take your choice away from you."
Forgivable Sins: A Dark Mafia Romance (Bellandi Crime Syndicate Book 2) Page 3
