“I found this chair at one of those second hand places. It called out to me, and I knew it deserved a place to call home.” Her smile had been alive, her eyes dancing while I’d sat behind the mahogany desk, and then pulled her into my lap to christen the wood as a ‘thank you’ for her efforts.
I rubbed my fingers along the grain of the wood, memories of her laughter echoing inside my head. I’d asked her again that night to marry me, and she’d rebuffed me with another “No.”
After the fourth time she’d turned me down, I’d begun to think it was personal. So I consulted the one person who had more experience being a woman than any other living soul I knew. Sophia first held my hand, and then she laughed at me, teasing me for being a grown man who, in her opinion, was throwing a tantrum.
“Nicky, you’re still in the mindset she’s like the other girls you’ve taken around on your arm.” She had a point, one I hadn’t wanted to agree with. “Anna is a smart young lady, one who reminds me so much of myself. If you want my opinion, and since you’re sitting here in the middle of the afternoon pouting, I think you do…” One of those mothering glances, just like the ones she’d given me when I was a child, strengthened the importance of her words. “Prove yourself as a man to her, don’t be the mobster everyone else expects you to be. Then, and only then, will you stand a chance of Anna saying yes.”
Pushing back from my desk, the ghosts of old conversations unable to lend me a hand in figuring out what was wrong with Anna, I wandered into the kitchen. The first rays of a new day filtered through the windows; this was the room Anna claimed made living with me so much better. She had been teasing me at the time—one of many things I found charming in her character.
Pressing the button to start the coffee pot, I contemplated ordering breakfast to be delivered, to enjoy in bed with Anna. Reaching for the remote to turn on the television, my cell in hand, I tuned into the early morning news channel in the middle of delivering breaking news.
“Rikers’ officials have yet to respond to our request for an interview. We reported recently of an inmate’s death in the women’s detention facility, when Miranda Gallo-Salluzzo was found hanging in her cell after her arrest in the murder of her brother Dante Gallo. Late last night, the body of alleged underground boss Alex Gallo, father of Mrs. Salluzzo, was also found by guards in his bed unresponsive. Medical personnel responded, but were unable to find a pulse.”
“Do you think she practices her delivery in the mirror or does she always sound so damn chipper and look so stinking happy?” Anna stood in her robe and socks, her hair pulled on top her head, and her glasses on her face. “Cause you know it has to suck giving bad news every damn day with a smile on your face.”
First her turning away from me last night, and now the sassiness, were clear defense mechanisms. Anna wasn’t a real fan of confrontation, whether it was the vendor she used for her expensive roses or an elephant in the room she was avoiding, it didn’t matter. If I could get her to a comfortable place, and get her to relax a little, I might’ve stood a chance of finding out what was going on. “Be the man, not the mobster.”
Pulling a mug from the cabinet, I filled it to the brim with coffee then handed it to her as I wrapped an arm around her shoulder, and guided her to the bathroom. “Dominick, not now.” Her fussy tone, reserved for when she wasn’t in the mood for sex, conveyed her seriousness. “You think I want to have sex with you? Are you kidding me? I can smell your breath from here.” I turned up my nose at her and pulled away slightly.
When I first took a look at this house, I’d imagined Anna sitting inside this tub, covered in bubbles and hot water with her head back and eyes closed while her fingers did naughty things under the water. Ignoring her sarcastic eye rolls and her frustrated removal of her robe while complaining we needed to get to work on time, I managed to get her into the water.
“You and I both know neither one of us has to be in our offices for a few hours. Besides, last time I checked, we were in charge.” I knew the second the hot water and aroma of the bubble bath shit she used began working its magic. Her shoulders relaxed, eyes faded closed, and her knees lowered to the side, giving me plenty of room to slide in with her. There was probably some protocol that dictated wine or some bubbly shit be consumed while in a bath, but my girl needed caffeine. Every morning like clockwork, she had a cup of coffee before she did anything.
Grabbing her foot, I pressed my thumbs into the center just hard enough to get a moan out of her. “Tesoro, you know dead men can’t take anything from you, so quit giving him anymore of your time.” Where she avoided confrontation, I felt right at home in it. “What about dead women, are they any different? Or does death come when you get bored and need to move on?”
Fatigued Anna meant her snarky side wanted to come out and play; I loved this side of her, it was where her dirty mouth came from. “Prison gates don’t seem strong enough to keep any of you in or out.” My thumbs dug deeper while Anna had her spin. “With Gallo gone, you’ll have all of his contacts, all of his associates, and all of his—” Her unspoken thoughts hung in the space between us, a pregnant pause before she go let the word she could never take back: “Women.”
Her face gave her embarrassment away. While she never blushed or shied away from anything, she did have a tendency to chastise herself when she thought she was being ridiculous. My past would forever haunt me, a curse I would carry for the remainder of my days. I’d earned it; being cursed justified every action I’d ever done.
“Anna, if I could, I’d reach inside myself, pull my heart out, and give it to you. Let you have something tangible to hold onto so you will always know how much, and how deeply, I feel for you.” Sliding her foot back into the water, she opened her eyes and began searching mine, a furrow in her brow in annoyance for her foot no longer being massaged.
“I know you’re bothered by the situation with Miranda, but you need to remember a few things about her. One, I never loved her, not even a little. Two, she filled a need, one anybody could have provided. Three, she never challenged me or made me sweat over the chance just to hold her hand. And last, I never crawled into a tub surround by floral smelling bubbles to get close to her.” A smile cracked her face in half, giving me the edge I needed.
“Tesoro, in my world decisions have to be made which affect everyone. Some are good and I can get behind them one hundred percent, while others suck balls, and I hate them. No matter what, I have to get behind both kinds. However, deciding to love you, make you a permanent part of me, was effortless.”
She scoffed at my mention of balls, but as I continued, the look on her face turned from annoyance to something else… something I had a feeling I was about to enjoy. “You’re a goddamn magician, you know that?” She left her side of the tub, splashing water as she wiggled her way onto my lap. “You got that right. Wanna see my magic wand?” I pulled her over my hardening cock, bringing her nipples to eye level. “I have actually, it’s pretty impressive.” Pulling her lip between her teeth, lust-filled eyes sought out mine, the sentiment mutual. “You always take all my fears and make them disappear, even the big scary one who refused to die. Loving you came easy, too. I love you, Dominick.”
I’d once convinced myself that if any woman—besides those who shared my last name or DNA—ever said they loved me, I’d be gone in less than a minute. But hearing the only girl I wanted beside me say it, did something deep inside me. Ignoring the title wave of water and soapsuds spilling over the edge of the tub, I picked her up and carry her back to bed.
Cold sheets under hot bodies, lovers craving the other with such hunger they can’t find words for it. Needing to touch her was more important than relieving the burn in my lungs from lack of oxygen. I refused to let her go, even long enough to kiss her on her neck or take a pink nipple between my teeth was just too long to lose contact. Her rhythm matched mine while we climbed higher, legs wrapped around waists, hands roaming with no regard for where the touch ended or began. Our breaths were
so close and sharp they mixed, losing their individuality as blended into one.
Anna mopped up the water on the floor while I showered. Though I’d asked nicely for her to join me, she’d offered me a rain check instead. A pounding at our front door came while I was finishing my tie. My gun appeared in my hand as I checked the security camera app on my phone. Demetri and Marco stood on my front steps, their eyes covered by sunglasses. Tucking my Glock back into the waistband of my pants, I opened the door to let them in. A black hood came down over my head before I could say a word.
I’d known this day would come; there were no preparations I would be involved in, though. It would happen when I least expected it, and due to all the secrecy shrouding the custom, I had no real idea of what would happen. I didn’t fight while they hauled me from my home, into the car, and then drove around. Of course they would take a random route, leave no clues for me to figure out where I was.
Bright light slammed into me and my lids squeezed tight to block the irritant the hood had kept out. My hands had been tied behind my back before they tossed me into the back of the car. The restraints were tight, but the pressure eased seconds after a knife was used to clip the ties. Blinking, I looked around.
Antonio stood on what looked to be an altar, a crucifix behind him. Stained-glass windows along the sides colored my ability to determine what time it was. We’re in a church, or at least it was at one time. The cracked ceiling and walls are missing paint in large chunks. Against a far wall are stacked pews, most of them looked to be broken or in need of some serious repair. The floor, distressed wood, was scarred with old paint spills and old scratches, which alone would have added character.
“Dominick Santos, you have been found worthy to lead your Family. Every man present now will bear witness to the change of power in the Santos Family.” I glanced around as more men came in from the shadows.
“They will pledge their allegiance to follow you and the decisions you make.” Antonio took a knife from the table behind him, the handle forged with the same mark he’d used to brand me as a Made Man. Using the point, he sliced his index finger and a drop of blood formed on the end, trailing off and dripping into a cup. “By blood we are made.” He smeared his finger against the handle of the knife. “By right we are destined.”
When he reached out his hand for mine, I offered it so my father could repeat the action on my finger. My blood joined his in the bottom of the shallow goblet. Directing my hand, he lowered my bleeding finger to the handle of the knife next, covering the smear he’d left behind with one of my own.
“By blood we are made, by right we are destined,” he chanted again.
From the corners of my vision, I noticed the witnesses form a circle around us; I would have checked the floor for a pentagram if I’d thought it wouldn’t be disrespectful. My Uncle stood to Antonio’s left, his expression blank with the required respect. Carmine had been the Underboss of our Family for as long as Antonio had been our leader. It would be my choice to keep the order the way it was now, or decide to bring new blood and fresh ideas into the mix. Antonio motioned to his left, my cue to forward the ritual around the circle. Repeating the actions I’d done with my father, the pool of blood in the cup gained in volume.
Next to Uncle Carmine stood Demetri. My thoughts on having him in the top levels were dismissed; he would be miserable if he couldn’t sit behind his computer screen, so being my Underboss or Consigliere would be a waste of his talents. The look in his eyes showed he was silently praying I would not call him in for a meeting.
Marco, on the other hand, would take to either role like a duck to water. He was hungry enough to want to succeed in the job, and I wouldn’t have to question his whereabouts.
No decision needed to be made today, though. First I had to survive the ritual. Being entered into the Family as a full member had come with a price. Filling the spot of its leader would be an even greater price to pay.
Completing the circle, my finger stinging from the repeated cuts I’d made, I found myself once again I was standing before Antonio, his eyes brimming with tears which begged to be released. They would never be allowed to fall, he was too proud for that, but I imagined he would have a moment later, when he was alone.
“By coming here, these men have agreed to remain loyal to you, protect you, and advise you. Even though you’ve not formally announced a wife yet, I know Anna will benefit this Family and bless you with children and a happy home. We pledge our loyalty to her as well.” Turning to the men surrounding us, my father cleared his throat so he could be heard. “A leader is only as good as his people, stay loyal as you are today. Keep the oath you’ve each pledged to stay true to the Family, your wives and loved ones, and especially our new Boss, Dominick Antonio Santos!”
Removing the ring he had worn for as long as I’d known him, he took my right hand in his and then placed the ring in my open palm, before leaning over and placing a kiss over the ring. “Gentlemen, I present to you our new leader. Let us show him our gratitude.”
His final words as the Boss of this Family were sealed with a right hook to my jaw.
THE DECISION TO BE WITH Dominick came with pro and cons. While most of the time, the pro side hung around, it was days like this where the con showed its ugliness.
I’d suspected something was up with his abrupt departure yesterday morning, absent of his normal kiss and wishing of a good day. A result of his presence being needed. Repeated text messages and voicemails going unanswered confirmed he was in deep with something. When he failed to call or come home last night, I had to calm myself instead of driving around the city looking for him or one of his guys. Instead, I’d dealt with stress the way I had always done, I’d returned to work and creating small vessels of intended happiness. When the sun began to rise and Marissa headed off to her job in the city, I still hadn’t heard a word from him.
Dominick had given me a multitude of open doors to leave and never look back. His concern for my inability to handle the very situation I now found myself in, of it being too great and challenging, was honorable. While I wasn’t finding this particular experience to be the highlight of my week, I knew it wasn’t something, which happened frequently.
As the shops along the street began to open their doors, a haggard and bruised Dominick walked into the back door. His tie was missing and his shirt had several blood stains on it. In his left hand was a bag from the Greek deli down the way, the other had a white bandage around his index finger and split knuckles with dried blood scabbing over the wounds.
This was foreign territory to me since Corey had never come to my house, or business, looking like this. Since watching and learning had always benefited me in the past, I remained quiet and allowed him to lead.
“Tesoro,” he spoke as he wrapped me in his arms without bothering to set the bag of food down. He smelled of stale cigarettes, the whiskey he drank when he had a bad day, and the slight undertone of cheap women’s perfume. His eyes were glassy, a side effect of the whiskey, while the white parts were red from either the smoke or his apparent fatigue. “Mmm, I missed your smell, the way you feel.” His words were slightly slurred while he pulled two cups of coffee out of the white bag.
“You look tired.” My tone remained flat as I made my observation. I didn’t want to sound defensive as I’d done nothing wrong, and I suspected neither had he.
“I’m about to die, but my day is far from over. I won’t be home until late, I have to have dinner with an important new acquaintance.”
I would have a lifetime of nights to lay in the darkness of our bed asking him any question I wanted. Right now was not the time, although the location was relatively safe, it certainly wasn’t private enough.
Slightly before mid-afternoon, the most peculiar delivery arrived. A bike messenger stepped into my shop with a long, skinny, gold box tucked under his arm. “Arianna Covington?” he stammered as he pulled out a smart phone and stylus.
I signed for the delivery, tipped him
generously, and wished him a good afternoon. Inside the box rested a silver chain-wrapped deep red, nearly black rosebud. Under the flower, which had Sophia Santos signature touches all over it, was a small square envelope. I carefully removed the rose with its diamond-tipped thorns, awed. A closer look, and the heaviness when I’d lifted the bloom from the box, led me to question what it was actually made of. Holding it up to the light, the setting sun gave me the first indication the rose was made from glass, the deep red, nearly black petals a result of a liquid inside. Carefully, I placed the rose, which I suspected was something much rarer and valuable than I fathomed, back into the safety of the box.
The card, which was made of thick stationery embossed with the same ornate horn symbol Dominick had placed around my neck, had two lines scribed on it: today’s date and a time. The hands of my ancient Timex let me know something was about to happen in an hour. Maybe I should’ve been uncomfortable, but something deep down told me know this was an invitation to a big change in my little world.
One hour and seven minutes later, I found myself standing outside of Sophia Santos’s luxurious estate. An older gentleman, who I recognized as the cab driver Bernard, from the first day I’d arrived, held the door to the black town car open for me. His newsie hat was such a contrast to his three-piece suit. On anyone else it would’ve appeared comical, but on Bernard it worked. He didn’t linger, driving away the second I placed a foot on the top step of the entrance.
Two more men in suits opened the double wooden and glass doors, filigrees of wrought iron dancing in intricate designs over the glass panels. Funny how I had never noticed that before. Sophia’s foyer, the space where I’d once seen more of Marissa than I ever cared to, was now rich with flowers and silver accessories.
“Miss Covington, if you would follow me?” Maggie, who I knew from conversations with Dominick, was the housekeeper and prior Nanny. Her round features and Irish accent made you feel right at home.
Stolen Secrets Page 33
