Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Text copyright ©2017 by the Author.
This work was made possible by a special license through the Kindle Worlds publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by Romig Works, LLC. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original Infidelity remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Romig Works, LLC, or their affiliates or licensors.
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Inheritance
by T.C. Winters
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Author Bio
Connect
Buy Links to T.C. Winters novels
Infidelity World
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, incidents, places, and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual events, locales, organizations, or real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Cover design by Alexandria Corza www.ajcorza.com
Editing: Anya Breton www.fieryheart.net/services
Formatting: C. M. Wright’s Author Services www.cmwas.com
World Description
The Infidelity Corporation will broker relationships—for a price. Their clients are exclusive and successful, their employees confidential and classified. Infidelity ensures that CEOs, politicians, and high-profile artists find love, with their friends and relatives none the wiser about how the happy couple met. But twists and turns abound in a world where old money, new money, and no money clash, from West Coast to East Coast and beyond. Enter Infidelity’s world of entrapment, betrayal, and deceit, where you decide whose relationship is real and whose is just an agreement.
Acknowledgments
My sincerest thanks to critique partners, Jillian Jacobs and Cheryl Brooks.
Warmest regards to beta readers Cheri Spell-Haase, Aly Grady, M.Katherine Clark, Jen Osborn, Lisa Caviness, Melanie Jayne, and Anna Hague.
A special thanks to editors, Anya Breton and Wendy Ostermeyer, as well as my sisters for keeping most of the novel error free.
Many thanks to Aleatha Romig for shining the light.
To all: I couldn’t have done it without you.
Chapter 1
My filbert brush stroked the delicate area under her exposed breast, highlighting the fullness and blending the colors. The acoustics of classical music swelled and crashed around me as I contemplated my next move on the canvas. The portrait came to life with each caress of the brush.
The bright afternoon sunlight slanting from the skylights turned gloomy as the clouds rolled in, limiting the natural lighting in my private studio above the garage. The space was littered with easels and paints, but the vinyl flooring made cleanup easy. Off to my right, I’d personally installed a secret hiding place behind a bookcase for my finished canvases.
The floor rattled underneath my feet as the automatic garage door cranked to life. From outside, a screech similar to the sound made by a garbage truck startled me, causing me to drop my brush.
“What the hell?” I stormed to the studio window overlooking the driveway. Vincent, my uncle, stood behind my father’s 1962 Ferrari 250 GT SWB California Spider while a tow truck prepared to winch the car onto the flatbed. My feet barely touched the carpeted hallway as I flew down the stairs and out the front door. Rain pelted me when I bounded off the porch and the earthy smell of the damp ground assaulted my nostrils.
My shoes were soaked by the time I slid to a stop near the tow truck. “Have you lost your mind? Dad will stroke out if you touch his baby. He hasn’t driven the car once this spring because of the rain.”
Vincent barely lifted his upper body from under the hood. “Dante, you’re too young to remember, but this car belonged to my father. Antonio stole it from me.” He swung his body in my direction and allowed his gaze to swallow mine.
“You can’t drive it without his permission.”
“Your father told me I could have this car over his dead body.”
His tone and the breeze made me shiver. I swiped at the hair whipping into my eyes as I absorbed his unspoken message. My heart clanged and my mind reeled. “Where’s Dad? What’s happened?”
Jimmy, Vincent’s ever present wingman, smirked. “Go back to your crayons, little chicken. You no longer have ties with the Costello family.”
Vincent and Dad had been close when my mother was alive, but things changed following her death. At times, they acted like archenemies instead of brothers. Dad and Oren wanted to steer clear of the family business, but Vincent didn’t approve. When I chose to earn a master’s degree from the Art Institute of Chicago instead of becoming one of the reigning princes of the Costello family alongside my cousin Luca, a volcano of hate and anger had erupted inside Vincent.
My voice remained neutral, but my heart nearly imploded. “Is he all right?” My gaze searched their faces for some inkling. “Vincent, how bad is it?”
His voice flat and toneless, he said, “The worst.”
I didn’t believe him. Why should I? In the last decade and a half, he’d been nothing more than a distant relative I saw at extended family functions. I yanked my phone from the pocket of my jeans and called my father’s private line. When he didn’t answer, I hung up and dialed his personal assistant.
She answered on the second ring. “Oh, Dante. I cannot bear this travesty.” Her voice broke into a wail. “He must’ve suffered so.”
I clicked off without saying another word. Jimmy’s laughter surrounded me as I careened into the house and charged toward my stepmother’s suite. Skidding to a halt in front of the closed door, I bowed my head at the sobs reverberating from inside. Lonely after my mother died from cancer, Dad let years pass before he dated another woman. Then he met Serafina and was captivated. Even though I wanted to verify his death with her, I tiptoed away from the door because she needed time to grieve in private.
If only I could take back the last few hours, I would tell my dad I loved him before he left the house this morning. Instead, I’d been holed up in my studio, painting. I stumbled away from the door and collided with the wall behind me. My rubbery legs couldn’t hold my weight, and I sank to the thick carpeting in the hallway.
Vincent had always been a bastard, but to deliver this devastating news in such a cavalier manner was low, even for him. My mind raced along with my pulse. Bettina would be home from school soon, and Caterina would be delivered from the academy shortly thereafter. My sisters would be crushed. Rubbing my temples, I willed my brain to formulate a plan.
A chime from the alarm system on the front entryway door signaled Bettina’s ar
rival. I had deliberated too long and my chance to carefully choose my words had passed. At fifteen, Bettina more often than not received a ride to and from school with a friend, sometimes allowing her to arrive home early. I struggled from the floor and returned to the entryway. My pain-laden brooding slowed my progress. I could only hope she hadn’t seen the Ferrari being towed out of the driveway.
As I descended the stairs, Bettina stood with her back to me, waving as a red car backed onto the road and sped away. Next to the dark paneling in the entryway, her school uniform—plaid skirt, white shirt, and chaste white knee socks—lent her a youthful, innocent essence. My next words would change her life forever.
“Bettina, something has happened.”
My sister whirled toward me. “Dante, why are policeman in the driveway?” Her sweet lavender perfume hung in the air.
The question was barely out of her mouth when two men appeared on the front porch. Their nondescript khakis and bland shirts—clothes people wear who want to blend—indicated they were detectives. The older man stood back as the younger one addressed Bettina. “Hello, young lady. May I speak to your mother?”
She pressed her fingertips to her mouth, the whites of her eyes visible. “What has happened? Tell me.”
I descended the remainder of the stairs two at a time and engulfed her in a hug. “Sorellina, my little sister, these gentlemen are here to explain. Please go to your mother. She needs you.”
Always strong-willed, her muscles tensed and her nostrils flared. I silently begged her to do as instructed. A sob escaped as she flew up the stairs to her mother’s room.
I waited until she was no longer within hearing distance, then I inhaled deeply and pivoted to the men at our doorstep. “Please come in. I’m Dante Costello. My stepmother is indisposed. May I help you?”
The younger man flashed a badge. “I’m Detective Sparks and this is Detective Cohern from the New York City Police Department. Could we come inside?”
I backpedaled. “Yes. Yes, of course. Follow me, please.” I led them into the parlor and with a flick of my wrist indicated they were to be seated.
They chose brocade chairs opposite one another. Detective Sparks cleared his throat. “It is with regret we must inform you that your father, Antonio Costello, has died.” His gaze sought mine for a few seconds, but slipped away.
I dropped into the nearest chair. The truth had been evident by the vindictive gleam Jimmy had tossed my way, but hearing the words stomped the breath from my chest. Silence lingered while I collected myself. “Did he die in an accident?”
The men shared a glance before Sparks frowned. “It’s unlikely his death was an accident. Pending an autopsy, we’re investigating this as a homicide.”
The pinched expression told me there was more. Something horrible. “How did he die?”
Sparks squirmed in his seat and leaned forward. “A passerby found his body on a rural road. His injuries were consistent with being chained, then dragged behind a vehicle. His remains were pretty torn up.”
I tilted back in my chair and stared at the ceiling while concentrating on taking deep breaths. The room spun as my blood began to boil. “He was alive before he was chained and dragged?” I knew the answer. The appalling truth written in their tight postures.
“Yes. We believe so, but everything is just speculation until we get the autopsy results.”
Our gazes collided. I read compassion and empathy in his. My voice hoarse, I whispered, “Who would do such a thing?”
“We hoped your family could help. Would you be willing to answer some questions?”
I agreed and we spent the next hour discussing everything from Dad’s state of mind to the type of people who worked for him, not to mention the whereabouts this morning of my family and me. Near the end of the hour, Sparks asked, “Is there anyone in your father’s inner circle who could’ve done this?”
Before I could respond, the front door opened and eight-year-old Caterina raced inside, her pigtails flying. “Dante, check out what I made for you.” She held out a paper laden with watercolors, her expression alive with excitement. Well trained in social graces, she slowed when she saw the men. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.” She backed out of the room and thundered up the stairs, calling for her mama.
Detective Cohern winced and scrutinized his fingernails. “Mr. Costello, we’ll allow you private time with your family, but we’d like to come back to discuss a possible motive. He stood and motioned the other man to follow. “Don’t worry. We’ll find whoever did this.”
I nodded, but my thoughts were racing. So will I.
Chapter 2
I lingered in the entryway after the detectives were gone. The massive stairway yawned before me like the gateway to hell. Beyond the intricate carvings and curved banister was the family I loved. We’d lived under the same roof for nearly sixteen years—in the house my grandmother left me. If my grandfather had not predeceased her, the house would have gone to Vincent, the eldest son. Flurries would have peppered Hades before the old man bestowed anything on me.
Gathering my strength, I ascended the stairs. Bettina’s cries mingled with Serafina’s soft murmurs, but Caterina’s muffled sobs floated down the hallway from her bedroom. My heart broke for the little one, and I hurried to her door.
“Sorellina, let me in.”
When she opened the door, her agonized expression nearly brought me to my knees. I gathered her close, and she wrapped her delicate arms around my neck, soaking my shirt with her tears. The cotton-candy pink room with the princess motif wall art mocked me.
She lifted her heart-shaped face. Redness rimmed her deep blue eyes and tears streaked her cherub cheeks. “Papà is gone. I don’t want you and Mammina to die.”
“Cat, Papà had an accident. We’re safe.” I lifted her into my arms. “Let me take you to Bettina and your mother.”
Her grip around my neck tightened. “At school, Heather said my family would all be murdered by the mop.”
“The mop?” I pried her viselike grip from around my neck and studied her.
She buried her nose deeper into my neck. “Yes,” she wailed, “Heather told me mop families are always killing each other just because they told secrets on each other and are Italian. We’re Italian. I told a secret. Now my family will die.”
My chest suddenly felt as if it were packed with ice. “What secret did you tell?”
In a wobbly voice, she said, “I told Heather you were a famous artist. I know I’m not supposed to tell, but she thinks her big brother is so great and I wanted to show her mine was better.” She sniffed and drew in a gulp of air. “And now the mop killed my daddy.”
“Sorellina, I will protect you from the…mop. Come with me. Your mother and sister need you.” I stifled a chuckle even though I too was frightened of the mop.
I delivered her to Serafina and she crawled onto her mother’s lap. Over the top of her head, Sera and I shared a charged glance. The deep brown comforter and the heavy furniture lent a masculine air to the room, reminding me of my father. Without a word, I left them together and went to my father’s office. Once the door was locked and I was seated at his desk, I used my cell to call my mother’s sister, Deloris.
Aunt Deloris worked for my paternal cousin Lennox Demetri. Deloris managed security for his company, Demetri Enterprises, and had the skills and contacts to keep my family safe.
She answered immediately. “Dante, I’m already in the car. I’ll be there shortly with extra…staff. Please don’t open the door for anyone until we get there.”
I tried to collect myself while I waited for her arrival, but sitting alone in my father’s office, surrounded by his presence, gave me an eerie feeling. Grief would have to wait because vengeance was uppermost in my mind. The Costello family history with the mob was well documented, but only Vincent and his son remained active. The manner in which my father was killed implied a mob hit, yet he’d never been a part of that life.
Deloris texted when
she pulled into the driveway, and I rushed to let her inside. Even with her arms loaded with a suitcase and briefcase, she managed to hug me.
“Dante, I can assure you that your family will be safe. My security team is outside setting up a perimeter. Cameras will be installed.” She charged straight for my father’s office and dropped her files on his desk. “Nothing short of a missile will penetrate this house.”
“Do you think Vincent did this?” I hadn’t meant to blurt out the words, but Deloris was one of the few people I trusted.
She sat on the edge of the desk. “Not directly responsible, but maybe indirectly. The way Antonio was murdered appears to be a warning. Something this brutal is meant to cause an eruption of violence, within the Costello family and among the other crime families.” She drummed her fingers on her thigh before finishing. “One possibility is that Antonio was a patsy meant to create havoc within the Costello family crime organization, but I’m asking myself why.”
“My father had nothing Vincent or anyone from the underworld would want. Our business is legit.” I paced the floor in front of the massive walnut desk, too amped to sit.
Deloris remained silent but kept a watchful eye on me. When my pacing slowed, she said, “Let me work on this. Soon family and friends will congregate. You need to help Serafina and the girls cope. I’ll keep you apprised of the investigation, but do nothing until I say so.” She stood and raised a palm to caress my cheek. “Promise me, Dante. Do nothing until I give you the go ahead.”
“You make me miss my mother. The two of you were so alike.” I pulled away from her touch. “I promise, Aunt Deloris. Only a fool would go against the wishes of an ex-CIA operative who also happens to be family.”
“Smart man. Now go prepare the staff. We Italians love our food. By later this afternoon every table and counter in the house will be groaning from the weight of all the dishes.”
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