by Dana Delamar
“I know more than you think.”
Oh he was the devil’s own. “Prove it.”
“Jesus, you’re bloody persistent.”
“Like a mosquito?” A little humor never hurt.
He chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah. Like a bloody mosquito.”
“I can always ask my father if you won’t tell me.”
“Do that.”
“He might not tell me the truth.”
“And I would?”
She stared at him for a few seconds. Time to gamble, to bet on his good nature. “Yes.”
It was his turn to laugh. “You’re awfully confident too.”
“My brother would say I was just awful.”
He smiled. “I wish I had a brother or sister.”
“You will soon.”
Nick’s eyes snapped to Delfina’s. What was this about a sibling? “Pardon?”
“Your father, my uncle, recently remarried. His wife is pregnant.”
So that’s what Tyrell had meant. “Let me guess—he got her that way, then he married her.”
“It happens.”
How could she be so bloody casual? “That’s what he did to my mother. Only he never married her.”
“That’s because he was already promised to my Aunt Toni.”
“Fucking bastard,” Nick muttered. His gut twisted, his pulse revving up.
“I was upset about it too when I heard. But I’ve had time to think it over. How would you feel if some girl you barely knew was forced on you—as your future wife—when you were only sixteen? He was being a normal teenage boy having a fling before marrying a girl he didn’t choose. Trust me, I’ve been in his shoes, and it’s horrid not having a choice.” She paused, her gaze roaming his face. “Besides, God knows, all of us make stupid decisions when we’re that young.”
How dare she make excuses for him? “His ‘stupid decision’ ruined two lives.”
She put a hand on his forearm. “I’m not making light of what he did. Just giving context.”
“He was old enough to know better.”
“And so was your mother.” Her voice was cool, matter of fact.
Heat flared over his skin at the insult. “She wasn’t the one who had a fiancé.”
She held up her hands in a gesture of surrender. “True.” She said nothing for a moment, then continued. “So you’ve never, ever slept with a girl when you weren’t completely honest?”
And now she was accusing him of pulling the same rubbish move his father had? The bloody cheek of this girl! “I’ve always been upfront—I’m not interested in marriage, or a relationship. Just a good time. Take it or leave it. I’ve never led a girl on.”
She clasped her hands on her lap and studied them. “Well then, Signor Clarkston, you are a better man than most.” The softness of her voice pulled him up short.
What did that mean? Had some arsehole played a game with her? He almost asked, but forced himself not to. What did he care anyway? This whole conversation showed how different the Italians were. She was so bloody… calm about all this, while he wanted to break something.
They stayed silent for a while, and she checked her watch. She put a finger to her lips to signal him to remain quiet. Soon he heard the guard’s footsteps on the grass outside the maze and smelled the smoke from his cigarette.
He held his breath, willing the guard to keep walking, keep moving. Nothing of interest here, old chap. His anxiety was a sudden reminder that she’d taken a risk coming to talk to him. Maybe he was reading her wrong. That last thing she’d said… maybe she was no stranger to hurt. And maybe she had a perspective he was sorely lacking.
After the guard had been gone for a few moments, Nick leaned toward her, his hands jammed deep in his jacket pockets. “I know I’m not perfect.”
She snorted. “You don’t say.”
Nick had to smile. Even in the poor lighting, she looked gorgeous. “Yeah. I’m quite the horse’s arse, sometimes.”
She pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle her laughter. “I know you have no reason to trust me. I might not be as angry at my father as you are at yours, but I would bet I’m very close. He keeps trying to marry me off to better his business. Now he wants me to consider the drug-addicted brother of my best friend, all so he can secure their father as an ally.”
Ah, that must be what was bothering her. “Being the wife of a junkie holds no appeal at all?” He asked the question as seriously as he could manage, and she let out another unladylike snort.
He liked her, despite himself. And, after the way she’d seen right through his cover story, it was clear he needed someone to help him through this mess. “Can I trust you?” he asked.
She held his eyes. “I won’t repeat anything you tell me.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“It’s what I can promise. And I never break my word.”
She could have glibly reassured him. That she didn’t was a good sign, but he needed to tread carefully. “You asked why I’m here,” he said. “I’m here because I want to put my father in jail. And your father can help me do that.”
“What? Why?”
Let’s see her defend him now. “My mother killed herself when I was eight. Care to guess why?”
Averting her gaze, she said, “He wouldn’t leave my aunt.”
“He turned his back on us. Just walked away.” He almost added the most horrible part, but stopped himself. He was tired and upset. The last thing he wanted was to turn into a puddle in front of her.
After a moment, she said, “How are you going to put him in jail?”
Big breath. “I work for Interpol.” At the expression on her face, he raised a hand. “Your father knows.”
“What?” Her voice was too loud, and he made shushing motion.
“It’s a quid pro quo thing. I help him, he helps me.”
Her eyes grew wide. “You’re saying you’re a dirty agent?”
Another big breath. “Yes.”
Delfina stared at Nick, unable to do anything else. He was dirty? Porca miseria… just like everyone else she knew. Why had she expected him to be any different? “That’s why you think you can handle yourself.” He nodded. Madonna, he was in over his head. And he had no idea how badly. “Signor Clarkston—”
“Nick.”
“—Nick, you are playing a very dangerous game. I don’t think you understand how dangerous.”
“Your father is a mobster. I get it.”
She shook her head. “My father is unpredictable. He hates your father. He would do anything for revenge. Anything. And he won’t care who suffers. All he cares about is winning. “
“He and I have a deal.”
She laughed. “You have nothing.”
“Not true. I can be useful to him.”
“I’m sure he’s considering your offer.” She pushed off the bench and started circling it, needing to do anything but sit still. “And maybe he’ll take it. But only if he decides it’s in his best interest. You mean nothing—less than nothing—in the equation. I’m his daughter, and I mean nothing to him.”
“So we have something in common.”
“We’re not the only ones he doesn’t care about.”
“I meant, we both hate our fathers,” he said.
Hate was such a strong word. She loved her father—she did. But today, when he’d said he was considering marrying her to Leandro d’Imperio—hadn’t that washed away the last bit of mortar holding them together? “I’m very angry with him, yes.”
Nick grabbed her arm, stilling her. “But you haven’t written him off yet.”
For some reason, her eyes welled up. She wiped them. “I keep hoping he’ll change.”
He took her hand and pulled her down beside him. “For your sake, I hope that he does.”
“But you don’t believe he will.”
“I think you’re going to have to work within his limitations.”
She smiled. What a funny way to put it. But
apt. “You may be right.”
He squeezed her hand. “I wish I could help.”
“I have to manage this on my own. Besides, as my friend Gio pointed out, there are worse things than being a Mafia princess.”
“Joe? Who’s he?” He gave her a look that was hard to read.
“Giovanna. My best friend in the world.”
“Ah.”
Maybe there was something he could do for her, after all. If Leandro thought she and Nick had something, maybe he’d reject her and squash her father’s plans. “Would you come to my birthday party tomorrow?”
“I’m not sure your father would like it.”
“I don’t care what he likes. He owes me.”
“If you can arrange it, then yes.”
“I will.”
He said nothing for a moment. Then he asked, “How old will you be?” His voice was playful.
She tsked at him and wagged a finger back and forth. “A lady never tells.”
He smiled, his white teeth flashing in the dim light. “And would a lady be skulking about at all hours in the dark with a man she doesn’t know?”
“But I do know you.”
“Very little. And you knew almost nothing just a bit ago.”
She shrugged. “I suppose I’m no lady then.” I wanted you to kiss me; that’s how much of a lady I am.
A mysterious look crossed Delfina’s face, intriguing him. What was she thinking about? “So, how old are you?” Nick asked.
“I’ll be twenty-two.”
And probably still a virgin. Such a shame. She was one fine bird. And damn it, when she’d been in his arms back there, she’d felt so good pressed against him, the soft curves of her bum tucked tight against his groin. A few more moments, and she’d have known just how good she’d felt. She’d been breathing hard, and he didn’t think it was just from the near tumble she’d taken. There had been that moment when they’d both been quiet, when all it would have taken was one little twist of his head, and he could have kissed her…. But he didn’t need any more trouble with her father. He couldn’t risk his grandparents.
“And you are how old?” she asked. She was impossible to deter, this one.
“I’m twenty-seven.” He grinned at her, unable to help himself.
“It’s a shame you’re not married.”
What an odd thing for her to say. “Why?”
“If you were, you wouldn’t be doing such foolish things. Like putting yourself in my father’s hands.”
Too true. He wouldn’t. And maybe that was the problem, the problem with his entire life. He had no anchor, no stability. Other than his grandparents. Without them, he was just floating, adrift. In search of a home, a direction. A purpose. Something positive. Something other than revenge.
But revenge was all he had right now.
“I don’t know what else to do with myself,” he said.
She searched his face for a moment. What was she looking for? “I think you know that this”—she gestured around them—“isn’t what you should be doing.”
Her words struck home with a force that rattled him. “You think you know me?”
“I do. I see myself in you. The bitterness. The anger. The recklessness. And it scares me.”
He pressed his lips together and stared at the grass under his feet, even though he couldn’t see it. “It scares me too.” Where had that come from? Seems he had as much control over his mouth as he did his emotions.
“Then stop.”
“I’m not sure I can.” He let his voice fade to a whisper. “I’m not sure I want to.” What else was there for him? He was too much of a mess to marry and have a normal life like everyone else.
“It’s not too late, Nick. I can help you escape.”
“I got myself into this. I need to play it out. And I need to see justice done.”
She said nothing for a moment. “Did you notice the missing finger on my father’s right hand? It was removed when he was fourteen.”
Where was this going? “I noticed. What did he do to deserve that?”
“He did nothing to deserve that.” Her voice was razor sharp.
“Isn’t cutting off a finger a Mafia punishment?”
Her eyes slid from his. “Not always.”
“Which means?”
“You remember what I said about vendettas? Your grandfather Rinaldo cut my father’s finger off in retaliation for what my grandfather Carlo had done.”
“Which was?”
She paused again, and his heart started beating hard. “He killed Rinaldo’s wife and two of his sons. Your grandmother and uncles. Your father’s mother and brothers.”
What kind of sick bastard had Carlo Andretti been? But then, cutting off the finger of a fourteen-year-old boy…. Jesus, that’s why Rinaldo Lucchesi had died so hard. Dario must have wanted his revenge. But severing all ten fingers? And his hands? And his head? Talk about overkill. The man was a fucking psychopath.
Bloody hell. What would he do to Nick’s grandparents if Nick stepped out of line? One thing was clear: no matter what Delfina said, he had to stay put. “I can’t run away from this. I’m staying, and I’m getting justice for my mother.”
Delfina’s stomach squeezed into a hard ball and she found it difficult to draw a breath. She couldn’t let Nick put Zio Enrico in jail. He didn’t deserve it, not for a mistake he’d made so long ago. But Nick couldn’t see that. He was still a confused little boy who couldn’t move past his own hatred. She felt for him too, oddly enough. “I beg you, think this over. You do not want to tangle with my father. Can’t you see that the Lucchesis have been hurt far worse than the Andrettis? You don’t want to be on the losing side of this feud.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “I won’t be. I’m partnering with your father.”
“He’ll never see you as a partner. You’re a Lucchesi to him, and always will be.”
“I’ll win his trust, one way or another.”
Frustration and fear boiled up in her. She barely knew him, yet somehow Nick had managed to slip inside her defenses. He was a good man, and so naïve it frightened her. Nick was going to get himself killed, if she couldn’t make him see the truth, if she couldn’t stop her father and thwart his sick need for revenge on the Lucchesis. Her father’s plan was clear to her now: Nick’s own hatred, his blind rage, made him the perfect tool to wield against Enrico Lucchesi.
There was only one person who could help, who would help.
Nick’s father. The last person Nick would ever take help from. Somehow she had to make him see that his father wasn’t a monster. That he was Nick’s only chance for survival.
CHAPTER 5
Getting Nick to the party had taken some serious arm-twisting, but in the end, Delfina had prevailed with her father. Now she hoped the rest of her plan came off without turning into a disaster. She headed up the stone steps to the front entrance of the d’Imperio home alone. She’d asked for a moment with Giovanna before her family and Nick followed her in.
The front door flew open just as she reached the top step. “Delfi!” Giovanna called as she swept her inside and into a tight hug. “So how’s it feel to be twenty-two?”
“Much the same as twenty-one. Still being oppressed, blah, blah, blah.”
Gio laughed at her sourness. “Those poor African children still have it better than you, I see.” She smacked Delfina lightly on the arm. “If you don’t enjoy this party I worked my butt off for, I’m going to start encouraging Leandro. I’ll tell him you really do like him, you’re just too shy to say so.”
Delfina made a face. “Somehow I got forced into ‘being nice’ to him this evening.”
Gio smiled wide, her eyes glittering with mischief. “This, I’ve got to see. The great Delfina Andretti giving my pain-in-the-ass brother the time of day.”
“Don’t rub it in.” Delfina wanted to wallow in her sulky mood, but Gio made it impossible, as always. It was one of the best things about her friend.
&nbs
p; Gio lowered her voice to a whisper. “I don’t want to make it worse, but here he comes.”
As Leandro strolled into the foyer, even Delfina had to admit he cut a fine figure. She hadn’t seen him for most of the last four years while he’d been studying abroad, and he’d grown taller and filled out while he’d been gone. His wavy black hair had been freshly cut, and a few locks of it fell across his high forehead, nearly brushing his dark blue eyes. He’d apparently decided to grow a moustache and goatee, since stubble lingered under his long nose and on his square chin. He probably thought it was sexy that way, and maybe to some women it would have been. With his slick hair and slicker suit, in a navy blue to match his eyes, he could have just walked out of a Gucci photo shoot.
Leandro made straight for them. He took Delfina’s hand without saying anything and pressed a kiss to the back of it, his stubble scraping her skin and making her want to snatch her hand back. Oh God, how was she going to get through this? His gaze flickered over her body in a distracted way, and he rubbed the end of his nose; he was high already. Cocaine, from the looks of it. “Delfi, my treasure, I wish you the happiest of birthdays.”
His heavy, musky cologne made her queasy and reminded her how angry she was with her father. “I am not your treasure.”
“Is that any way for my intended to speak to me?”
“What?” She yanked her hand away, and he grabbed it again, holding it too tightly.
“Didn’t you know? It’s already arranged.”
She glanced at Gio, who appeared equally flabbergasted. Delfina wrenched her hand from his grasp again and he frowned, stepping close and putting his arm around her. “Stop acting like this, cara. People will talk.”
“Let them talk then,” she said, trying to shrug him off. His arm slid down the outside of hers, then he clasped her wrist, his fingers squeezing too hard.
“I will not allow you to treat me this way in public,” he hissed in her ear.
A by-now familiar voice interrupted them. “Oi, mate, let her go.” Nick. Delfina felt relief wash over her, but it was short-lived as Leandro tightened his hold and turned to face Nick.
