Nico

by Sarah Castille

  Kat sat down beside her and leaned against Mia’s shoulder, threading their fingers together. Mia squeezed Kat’s hand. It had taken her a long time to get used to Kat’s physically affectionate nature. Their mother rarely hugged them, and the only touches she’d had from her father involved pain.

  “Tell me all about school.”

  Kat filled her in on her classes, her friends, and her after-school activities. She showed Mia some of the paintings she’d done in art class and Mia flipped through Kat’s portfolio, amazed at her sister’s talent.

  “These are good, Kat. Really good. Have you thought about going to art school?”

  “I can’t afford it on my own, and I’m afraid to ask,” she said quietly. “After what you went through…”

  Mia pressed her lips tight together. She’d applied for the computer-science program at UCLA without discussing it with her parents. When she received the acceptance form, she announced she was leaving home and suffered the worst beating she’d had since the night in the restaurant. But even bruises and a broken arm hadn’t deterred her. As soon as she was able to stand, she’d packed her bag and walked out the door. She’d paid her way with scholarships, loans and by working two jobs while going to school. For the first few months, she lived in dreaded anticipation of seeing the family enforcers come to drag her home. But her father left her alone except to demand her presence once a month for a family dinner. They never spoke about it, and only Kat showed up at her graduation.

  “He won’t do that to you,” Mia said. “You’re special, Kat. He doesn’t hate you like he hates me. And if you do want to move out and go to school, you can always stay with me.”

  “I couldn’t leave Mama alone with him. He’s nicer to her when I’m around, and I think she’d get very lonely.”

  Mia felt a twinge of guilt that she’d never had the kind of relationship with her mother that Kat did. Although her mother had always been there for her in every way but defending her against the constant abuse, they had never been close. Mia had just chalked it up to the fact they had very different personalities. Mia had never enjoyed shopping or getting her hair or nails done. She didn’t care about entertaining, fashion shows, what movie stars were doing, or what celebrities were wearing. And her mother had no interest in computers, the Internet, gender politics, or feminist punk rock.

  They talked until Mia’s mother came to tell her Dante had arrived and she was needed in her father’s study. Mia gave Kat a kiss on the cheek and went down the ostentatious stairway and along the marble hallway decorated with gilt-edged tables, replica Grecian statues and huge vases of flowers, to the back of the house. Alfio fell into step beside her, his footsteps surprisingly quiet for a man so large. He had been her father’s top enforcer for as long as she could remember and never once had she seen him smile.

  Mia knocked on the door to her father’s study. After a few brief moments, her father called for her to enter. Taking a deep breath, Mia walked into the room that had seen the worse of her punishments and borne the brunt of her fears. Dark and gloomy, paneled in rich, dark wood and hung with thick green curtains, her father’s study reminded her of something out of the Victorian era. He sat behind a massive desk in a throne like chair, that he’d had shipped over from his grandfather’s house in Italy, along with most of the office furnishings. His consigliere, known as the Wolf for his peculiarly angled face, long nose, lean body and thick mop of gray hair, stood by his side along with Dante’s massive muscle-head of a bodyguard, Rev, who had been with the family almost ten years.

  “Papà.” Mia bent her head in respect, not wanting to start out the meeting with a punch or a slap that would mean she would be more focused on the pain than on the real reason she had been summoned to the house. She spotted Dante standing by the window, and greeted him with a smile. “Hi Dante.”

  Tall and slim, with a long, thin face and chiseled cheekbones, Dante carried the heavy burden of being heir to the family. Although he had not inherited their father’s vicious temper, or his ruthless streak, Dante never hesitated to do their father’s bidding, and never challenged him, even when Mia was forced to bear the brunt of their father’s rage. As a child, he had been a fun, teasing big brother, but he had changed when their father forced him into the life at the age of nine, sending him on errands for him and his men. After that, he had become detached and distant, and she still missed the Dante she used to know.

  Dante gave her a curt nod, and Mia’s smile faded. “What’s wrong?”

  “Madre di Cristo!” Her father snarled before Dante could answer. “You look like you’re dressed up for Halloween.” He took a deep breath and bellowed. “Gina! Get in here!”

  Mia’s mother, who no doubt had been waiting by the door in case she was summoned, rushed inside, her face pale and drawn. “Is something wrong?”

  “I told you to make sure she was properly dressed. Look at her. She’s an embarrassment to the family. How the fuck am I supposed to take her out looking like that?”

  “Mi dispiace,” Mama stammered. “I thought you meant you wanted her in a dress, and she’s wearing one. I did offer to give her some of last season’s Chanel—”

  “Shut the fuck up.” He rose from the chair, pushed up his sleeves. Mia’s skin prickled in warning, and her mother let out the softest whimper. After years of abuse, they all knew the signs, and they knew better than to run because running always made it worse.

  Mia shot a look at Dante, noted the lack of tension in his shoulders, the disinterest in his face. He was taller than their father, younger, stronger, the first-born and only son. If she were Dante, she would protect her mother, protect them all. She would beat her father down and tell him never to touch her mother again.

  Unbidden, an image of Nico came to mind, his broad, powerful shoulders and muscular arms, the way he had led her through the casino the other night, with his hand on her lower back, half guiding, half protecting her—the way he had protected her all those years ago. Nico would be able to put her father in his place with one well-placed blow. Not only that, he was a powerful Mafia capo; a formidable and ruthless man who took what he wanted, regardless of the consequences.

  A man she did not fear, because she had seen the heart of him.

  Mia had felt bold, reckless, and even brave when she threatened Nico in his office. Why couldn’t she feel like that with her father? Why couldn’t she be bold now?

  “Don’t touch her.” Mia stepped back, placing herself between her father and mother.

  Shock and disbelief clouded her father’s face, and then a fury like she’d never seen before twisted his expression. “Stupid girl. Get the fuck out of the way. Your mother knew exactly what I wanted. She chose to defy me. She will be punished so she learns not to do it again.”

  “It was my choice to dress like this.” She stepped back, pushing her mother behind her. “If anyone should be punished it should be me.”

  “Dio mio, I’ll be glad to get rid of you.” He closed the distance between them in two quick strides, and struck Mia’s face so hard, her head snapped to the side. Still reeling from the blow, she couldn’t stop him from striking her mother and then kicking her when she fell to the floor.

  “Dante. Get my jacket and pick up your sister. We don’t have time to get her new clothes.” He stepped over Mia’s mother, and looked back over his shoulder. “Gina, the next time I use the words ‘properly dressed’ I want her dressed like you.”

  “Of course, Battista.” Mama wiped the blood from the corner of her lip and pushed herself to sit, her legs folded under her on the plush, red carpet. “Mi dispiace. It won’t happen again.”

  “Not for this one, it won’t.” He shot Mia a look of disgust as Dante steadied her with a firm hand on her elbow. After a few parting words to the Wolf, he stalked down the hallway, cutting a dark shadow through the light in his custom-made Italian suit.

  “Where are we going?” Cheek throbbing, Mia followed her father down the hallway with Dante, Rev, and A
lfio taking up the rear.

  “Vincenzo’s Trattoria.”

  Surprised that he would respond, Mia kept quiet as they exited the house. Rev climbed into the driver’s seat of the family limo, and Alfio settled in the passenger seat beside him. Mia’s father sat in the rear with Mia and Dante facing him.

  “I want you to keep your mouth shut when we get there,” Mia’s father said as Rev pulled away from the curb. “I don’t want to hear any attitude. You disrespect me or embarrass our family in front of our guests; you’ll be one sorry girl when we get home. The clothes are bad enough.”

  Mia’s skin prickled, and she looked over at Dante, but he stared out the window in stony silence. “Who are we meeting?”

  “Don Toscani and his son.” Papà scrubbed his hand over his face. “It’s time.”

  “Time for what?”

  His face tightened. “Time to make yourself fucking useful to the family. You were seen the other night in a casino with Nico Toscani, dressed as a whore. You dishonored the family. You disrespected me—”

  “I was working.” She dared to interrupt him. “I was doing a penetration test—”

  “Shut the fuck up,” he barked. “You got yourself involved with the fucking Toscanis, now you’re gonna be involved with them for life. You gave me an opportunity to contact Don Toscani and negotiate a truce to end the war between our families. I offered a marriage to seal the deal. We’ll combine our drug-trade operations to push out the cartels and the street gangs for once and for all, not just here in the city but across the state to L.A. Not only that, we’ll finally be able to get into the gaming industry through his nephew’s casino. It’s the perfect place to launder our money.”

  Shock stole her breath away. “You’re asking me to marry Nico Toscani?”

  “I’m not asking. I’m telling.” He slicked down his hair. “And it’s not that bastard son who put a price on my fucking head that you’re going to marry. It’s Tony. A son by marriage. He wants to have a look at you tonight. You aren’t ugly. You’ve made yourself a marketable commodity. You’d better hope he can see past the ridiculous clothes.”

  “You think I worked hard in school and built a business so I could be a marketable commodity?” Her voice rose in pitch even though she knew it would rile him.

  “Why the fuck else would you do it?” He leaned back in his seat, his silk shirt straining against his barrel chest, huge stomach hanging over his belt. “You’re a woman. Your only value to me is political. We need this alliance to end the faida and increase the power of la famiglia. Once you marry Tony, his bastard of a cousin won’t be a threat—he’s not gonna be able to whack family and he won’t have the power to challenge Santo anymore. I’d be surprised if he’s still alive when you get back from your honeymoon.”

  All those years of trying to prove herself, to gain her father’s approval, to show him she was good as a son, had been for nothing. He had never seen her as anything more than a piece of property to be maintained and traded away. In her heart she had always known it, but to hear the words from his lips made her feel sick inside. She wanted done of this, of him, of their sick, twisted, broken family, of Cosa Nostra rules and codes and culture. She had fought hard for her little piece of independence, and she wouldn’t survive if he took it away.

  “I am not marrying Tony Crackers.” She looked over at Dante for help, but he continued to stare out the window. Her bad. Dante had never stood up to their father. Clearly, he wasn’t about to start now. “I have no interest in getting married, and certainly not to a psychopath. The newspapers are now calling him the Butcher. Every time he has a dispute with someone, they wind up not just dead but massacred.”

  Her father waved a dismissive hand. “You’ll marry who I tell you to marry, and you’ll do what I tell you to do. We all have to make sacrifices. This is yours. We’ll sit down, have a nice dinner, make the plans … I have invited Don Falzone, don of the Vegas faction of the New York Falzones to be there as a witness to the end of the faida and the marriage promise. The Falzones are the only other family strong enough to challenge us for control of the city, but once he realizes the might of our alliance, he will think twice before trying to push his way into our territory.”

  Did his greed have no end? She could read between the lines. Once he took out Don Toscani and Tony, the Falzone family would be next. Well, she refused to be a pawn in his game. “I have a business to run and a life to live away from la famiglia. I’m not getting involved.”

  His dark eyes grew cold and hard. “Forget about your little hobby. You’ll be looking after your husband, having his kids, decorating your house, fixing that mop of hair … Doing all the shit the women do to make the men look good. If your business is making money, then Dante will take over.”

  Disbelief became anger in a heartbeat. “That’s my business. I set it up. I paid for everything. I made the contacts. I brought in the contracts. No way am I handing it over to Dante. He doesn’t know a damn thing about hacking or security. He can’t even turn on his own damn computer.”

  She should have known what was coming, braced herself for the impact, but anger overrode instinct, so when he struck, there was nothing to protect her from his fist.

  “Cristo.” He smashed his fist into the side of her head. “How many fucking times do I have to beat you tonight? After all these fucking years, you still don’t know your place. When you started doing work for friends of mine, that business became a Mafia business. Women don’t do Mafia business. Women stay home, shut the fuck up, spread their legs, and do what they’re told.”

  Stunned, Mia breathed through the pain, waited until she could see clearly again, until her ears weren’t ringing and her head was no longer fuzzy. “You can’t make me,” she said. “The word ‘yes’ will never leave my lips. Beat me all you want. I’ll never marry into the mob.” She looked over at her brother. “How you could let this happen, Dante?” she demanded. “Why didn’t you do something?”

  “I did.” Dante turned slowly to face her. “It was supposed to be Kat.”

  “Dio mio.” Her heart sank into her stomach. Sweet, innocent, sunny Kat. “He’d destroy her.”

  “But not you.” Guilt flickered across Dante’s face so fast, she wondered if she had seen it. “You’re strong. Smart. A survivor. If anyone could get through this, it’s you.”

  He was right. Kat wouldn’t survive a week with Tony Crackers. She was trusting, generous, innocent—an artistic soul who wouldn’t survive the rigors of mob life.

  Rev pulled up in front of Vincenzo’s, a well-known Italian restaurant and Mafia hangout at the edge of town and bordering on an industrial estate. The location gave it an air of privacy and kept the tourists away, but the food kept those in the know coming back for more.

  Mia’s father turned to look at her, his face dark with warning. “You gonna get out of the limo and meet Toscani’s boy or do I send Rev and Alfio back for Kat?”

  “Don’t you dare touch her,” Mia spat out as she opened the door. There had to be a way out, and she would find it, but in the meantime she would keep Kat as far away from this mess as possible. “I hate you.”

  Papà snorted a laugh and joined her on the pavement. Alfio joined them and put a hand on her shoulder, a not-so-subtle warning not to run.

  “After tonight that’s not gonna be my fucking problem.” Papà grabbed the neck of her dress and tore it, baring her throat and chest down to the crescents of her breasts. “That should help the situation. Tony’ll want to know there’s a woman underneath all those ridiculous clothes. You try to hide it, but we all know it’s there. You got tits, girl. Whether you want ‘em or not.”

  She waited on the pavement for Dante to emerge, but when he reached for the door, Papà shook his head. “You’ve done what I asked you to do. I don’t need you tonight. Rev will take you home. Wait for me.”

  Hand shaking, Mia tugged the edges of her dress together and followed her father into the restaurant. No matter what happened, she c
ouldn’t go through with the wedding. A Mafia marriage was for life. It didn’t matter if there was cheating or beating, or if civilian law granted a divorce. Cosa Nostra would ensure that the two parties stayed together using whatever means necessary to get that message home.

  And there was no way she could become a Toscani for the rest of her life.

  FIVE

  “Hey, sweetie. Wanna spend some time?”

  “Testa di cazzo.” Nico slapped Luca’s hand off his shoulder, steering his SUV with one hand. “You’ve been fucking too many hookers. You sound just like them.”

  Luca, a well-respected Toscani soldier with his own crew of associates, laughed. “That’s ’cause you won’t share what you’ve got going on in that casino. Young, drunk, available women in Vegas for the weekend all ready to party. How many do you invite up to your penthouse suite every night?”

  “I’d tell you, but you can’t count that high.” Despite his tension about the operation they planned to carry out as soon as Vincenzo gave them the sign that everyone was in the restaurant, he was glad of Luca’s joking mood. Luca had withdrawn after the tragic death of his newlywed wife, losing himself in his work to the exclusion of everyone including his young son, Matteo.

  Luca ran his hand through his thick blond hair, cut to stand up straight on top. With his hazel eyes, and rugged features, he looked more Nordic than Italian. “Anytime you feel like hosting another party, just let me know. I’ve decided to stick with casual hook-ups and one-night stands. No pain. No heartache. I won’t fucking care if they get whacked, and I don’t have to deal with little Matteo getting attached.” He tapped Frankie on the shoulder. “Whaddya say, Frankie? You in?”

  “Nah.” Frankie shook his head, lost in thought. “I’ll keep watch.”