by Chelle Bliss
“Well…” I shot a glance at my brother, hoping Papa didn’t catch the hard look I gave him. Johnny thought it was a bad idea telling our father about Kiel before he’d agreed. We’d need him here before I explained to my father why I couldn’t marry Vinnie.
My brother cleared his throat, giving his head a shake before I could answer. I got the hint. No need for honesty. Not just yet. Papa’s hand felt weak. His grip faint when I pulled on his fingers and placed his hand palm up on my leg.
“I had to cancel on Vinnie.” My father curled his fingers, made like he was going to pull his hand away, but I held it tighter, smiling at him before he could complain. “I forgot I’d promised Father Russo I’d show him the new da Vinci exhibit on loan from the Vatican at the museum before the fund raiser. It’s for the homeless shelter, remember?” He nodded and circled his fingers around mine. “Anyway, Vinnie will be out in Philadelphia this weekend, I think he said, so we’ll get together next week if our schedules mesh.”
“Don’t keep putting him off, bella.” My father patted my hand but kept his expression stern, as though he wanted me to understand the importance of what he had to say. “He’s a patient man, but you shouldn’t keep your attention from him too much. He’ll think you’re not interested.”
Johnny caught my gaze again, rustling his paper as if to keep me from complaining to my father about the disgusting asshole he wanted me to marry. Papa had bad cataracts. His vision was horrible. But even a blind man could see Vinnie’s true colors.
Sadly, my father didn’t.
Maybe it made me petty and superficial to complain about Vinnie’s belly or his baldness, but I couldn’t help myself. There wasn’t anything about him I found remotely attractive. There was no way I could attach myself to him for life—something I knew my father would expect—if there was zero spark between us. I could get past the baldness, maybe even the paunch he carried. But his obnoxious bragging and the way he treated people was too much. He was an asshole, and I couldn’t stand him.
But my father had ideas.
He had plans.
He saw Vinnie as an asset. Someone to help Johnny run the business after he…well. In the future. Vinnie never showed his true self to my father. He wasn’t stupid, and because he wasn’t, I was going to have to marry him. Unless, of course, Kiel would agree to back me up.
God, I prayed he would.
“She knows, Papa,” Johnny said, standing when the maid entered the room. My brother leaned against my chair, nudging my shoulder as if he wanted me to agree with him. “Cara is smart. She knows what a catch Vinnie is.” He lifted his eyebrows, a silent request for me to agree.
“Of course I do.” I forced a smile, staring unblinking at my father as he watched us.
“Excuse me, Mr. Carelli,” Eliza, the housekeeper, interrupted. “Dr. Michaels is here for your appointment.”
Papa waved his hand, dismissing the woman. I stood anyway, bending down to kiss my father’s forehead. “Be nice to her,” I told him when he started to argue. “She’s a good woman.”
“So are you, cucciola,” my father told me, squeezing my hand before the short doctor in the tailored suit came through the door, Eliza trailing behind him.
“We’ll see you later, Pop.” Johnny nodded toward the door when Eliza and the doctor helped my father away from the table.
My brother had me by the arm, leading me down the long hallway toward the kitchen. The house was massive, at least six thousand square feet, with marble tile on every surface and fountains in the center of the colossal circular drive. We moved through ornate plaster archways and into the small alcove between the sunroom and the breakfast nook before Johnny uttered a sound.
“So?” he asked, as though that would be enough for me to get his meaning.
“What? Papa looks bad, and you need to make sure he eats whenever you’re with him.” I curled my arms tight, holding back the urge to smack Johnny on the back of the head. He knew better than to let our father beg off eating.
“He does look bad, and we’re handling it. I told Eliza this morning we’ll have to bring in a new dietician. I’ll talk to Michaels about what we can do to increase his appetite.” Johnny looked over his shoulder when Eliza moved down the hall, heading toward the pantry. My brother led me into the sunroom, shutting the glass door behind us. “Did you see your husband?”
The last word came out through gritted teeth. I shook my head, wondering if my brother would ever manage to grow up. I could have married Giorgio Armani, and the idiot would complain about my man being in the fashion industry. No one would ever measure up in Johnny’s eyes.
“I did. I made the offer.”
Johnny frowned, head tilting as though he expected more of an explanation.
“What?”
“Cazzo, Cara. What the hell did he say?”
“He kicked me out.” I didn’t bother mentioning I was in the middle of something when Kiel got rid of me. That was too humiliating to relive.
Johnny flared his nostrils, scratching his chin as he looked out the window. I understood his irritation. When I first confessed the truth about my marriage to Kiel, my brother had been livid. But then Papa announced he wanted me to marry Vinnie, and any real anger Johnny felt toward me were squashed. He’d seen Vinnie for who he was and wasn’t interested in letting the asshole in on our family business.
“Well,” Johnny grunted, nodding to himself like there was something he needed to work out on his own. “Be that way,” he said, pulling his cell out of his pocket, then ordering a quick, “Bring me my Caddy,” before he ended the call.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I asked him, hurrying to follow when he brushed me off. “Johnny, don’t you dare…”
“I’ll take care of it,” he promised, moving ahead of me. His stride was longer, his movements quicker with those long legs of his.
“You better not—”
“Miss Cara,” Eliza said, stepping next to me as Johnny continued down the long hallway. I shot a glance at the housekeeper but kept my attention on my brother’s retreating back. “Your father wants to see you about the fund raiser.”
“I’ll come back when—”
“I think Dr. Michaels would like a word with you and your brother before you both…” She stopped talking when Johnny left through the front door. “Well. You then,” she said, motioning me away from my brother and toward the entrance leading to the solarium. “He really was very insistent.”
“Oh…okay,” I told her, finally looking away from the closed door to follow behind Eliza.
My steps were quick, my heartbeat thudding, and I said the smallest prayer, hoping the day wouldn’t end with Johnny and Kiel trying to kill each other. I wasn’t so sure that prayer would get answered or who would come off worse when it was all over.
6
Cara
Kiel liked coffee—thick, rich coffee with cream and two sugars. He liked dark roast. None of those café or breakfast blends.
Once, he’d told me, he spent a month in New Orleans his sophomore year doing an internship on the crime beat. He’d fallen in love with rich coffee then, promising nowhere he’d been in the world had coffee as good as the Louisiana roasts he drank in New Orleans.
The cup in front of him was likely a poor substitute, but Kiel still sipped it, looking relaxed. He looked more in control than I’d ever seen him as Johnny sat across the table from him. It was an outdoor gourmet coffee shop that sold all variations of coffee along with specialty chocolate and was just a few blocks from Kiel’s hotel. I’d been here once before. They had good blends.
At the moment, though, I didn’t care about how good the coffee was. My only concern was getting my brother away from Kiel without the cops across the street or the kids at the table next to them getting caught up in whatever drama there would be.
And God, I knew there would be drama.
They sat only ten feet from me, just around the corner of the building. I could make out mos
t of the conversation. It seemed, from what I heard, to be a game of insults delivered through mock calm and smooth smiles, none of which were sincere. The last they’d seen each other, Johnny and his boys were pulverizing Kiel’s body.
“Is it the money?” Johnny asked, his tone curious but still calm.
“I don’t need your money or hers.” Kiel wasn’t loaded. That much I’d found out when I had the PI check what he’d been up to. His background came back clear, and his work at the Seattle Times was proof enough that he was doing okay, but not remarkably well, writing on the crime beat.
“You’re too proud,” Johnny said, moving in his chair, the metal feet scraping against the cement below him. “You and my sister, you’re both too damn proud.”
“Your sister and I, as those pronouns work together, aren’t any of your business.”
“That,” Johnny said, voice slipping lower, “is where you’re wrong.” His voice that deep, his words that enunciated, signaled his anger. My big brother was getting pissed. It was never good when that happened.
“Let me paint you a scenario, Carelli. Just to recap, so we’re clear.”
Kiel never let his voice falter. The inflection didn’t rise. He didn’t get irritated and let his tone become clipped. He maintained his calm, not giving away any indication of his mood. It was a talent he’d always had, but as he continued speaking, I realized it was one talent he’d perfected.
“Five years ago, I chased down a lead. Money for the Bolton Mission not receiving all their donations. How the mission had seen a five percent drop in its output to the homeless community because of the missing donations. Donations raised by your father’s museum. Donations received when the new museum director, your little sister, took over. I go to the source, find out what I need to know from your sister. She’s more than willing to hand over her books to prove she wasn’t responsible.”
Kiel’s chair squeaked as he spoke, and he moved one hand as he continued. It was his only tic, the only thing that made his control slip, if just a bit. “It was a fluff piece given to me by a bored editor who wanted the intern out of his hair. I was eager. Desperate to make an impression. But I fucked up, like most kids do. I forgot to separate myself from the story. I forgot that the source should stay a source. The next thing I knew, your sister was at my apartment, in my bed, telling me everything I wanted to hear about how smart I was. How far I could go. All, I’m sure, to keep me off the story.”
Something sharp rattled in my chest, and my stomach dipped. Kiel thought I’d been responsible? He thought I’d taken money from the mission? How did I never know that?
“You think my sister stole from homeless people?” Johnny asked, his tone a little amazed.
“I think there are a lot of homeless people who got shafted when your sister was put in charge of the fund raiser. I know I did because even though she promised she loved me, even though she went as far as saying ‘I do’ when I convinced her to marry me, I still ended up accused of being a fucking stalker. My night ending with you and your meatheads beating my ribs in.” Kiel took a long sip of his coffee, his movements slow, his attention never leaving Johnny’s face. “Now she’s coming back around, asking me to pretend that she never lied about me or that you are accepting, sincere, and expect me to forget. I flew home to my people with broken ribs and a bloody face, all because your kid sister didn’t want your old man to know she’d lifted a hundred grand from a mission catering to folks without a pot to piss in.”
“Hell, man, you gotta learn to let shit go.”
In the reflection on the window to my right, I spotted Kiel’s expression. His mouth was set so straight and hard, his lips nearly disappearing behind his frown. Then he inhaled, shifting the line of his mouth into a half smirk. I stood away from the building, ready to pounce between them if they started fighting. That look on Kiel’s face was dangerous.
The half smirk stayed, and Kiel relaxed against his chair, leaning on his left elbow as he lifted his chin at my brother. “You ever forget about the fucker who took out your cousin Michael?”
I held my breath, trying not to curse at Kiel for the reminder. Michael had been a kid. Just twenty and under Johnny’s wing, wanting to learn the business at my brother’s side. But Ralphie Rizzo, a stupid kid from Newark, got it in his head that taking Michael out would clear the way for him at Johnny’s side. A bullet to Michael’s temple had nearly ruined my brother.
Johnny’s jaw worked, his eyes narrowing so small, I could hardly make out the whites in them before he shook his head.
“Never.” My brother shifted his hard stare, looking at Kiel like he was impressed. Probably unhappy that Kiel’d found out about Michael, but still impressed that he had.
Kiel shrugged, dismissing Johnny’s unspoken demand that he explain how he knew about the murder. “I’m a journalist, and your family fucked me over. You think I don’t watch my back?”
Johnny nodded, and the heat in his face dimmed.
Kiel didn’t relax his tight shoulders or loosen the stiffness in his arms, but when he spoke again, his tone was back to normal. “You won’t forget that asshole, and I won’t forget you or your sister. Kind of hard when it’s tied up in promises I meant when I made them.”
“You loved her.”
I released the breath I held when he answered, “Point is, I don’t now.”
Tired of the back-and-forth, I pushed away from the building and approached the table, glaring at my brother when he shot his attention to me. “I told you I’d handle this,” he said, nodding to Kiel.
“Uh-huh. It sounds like you’ve done a bang-up job.” I didn’t bother to look at Kiel when he coughed over his low laughter. Instead, I nodded toward the two guards near the sidewalk, both my brother’s men. “Papa needs you, and I need to have a conversation with Kiel.”
“Cara, you really shouldn’t…”
Johnny went silent, frowning when I glared at him, my nostrils flaring. I suspected he knew what I’d say. “Calling in my freebie.”
“Cara, this isn’t the time—”
“Sammy Nicola.”
Johnny grunted. He cursed under his breath before he exhaled, pushing back from his chair to stand. He reached into his pocket, drew out a fifty, and threw it on the table before he nodded at Kiel.
“Trust me on this, you think she was stubborn back then? She’s gotten a fuckton worse. Do the thing. Get your money and get it over with, or she’ll be on your balls forever.”
He nodded again at Kiel and ignored me completely. Then he left with his two guards, heading down the sidewalk.
I didn’t wait for Kiel to ask me to sit. If I was going to discuss anything with him, I didn’t want to wait.
“Kiel—”
“Who’s Sammy Nicola?” he asked, sounding amused, as though he hadn’t just asked me to reveal my brother’s most shameful secret. When I only watched him, head angled as I squinted, Kiel laughed. “You want me to get back in bed with your family. Maybe I wanna have something on your brother. Call it a good-faith request.”
I hesitated only for a second before I motioned the waitress over, pointing to Kiel’s cup and shooting two fingers at her. “Samantha Nicola,” I said, looking back at my husband. I still couldn’t shake the insult I felt at the revelation he made to Johnny, how he thought I was capable of stealing from a mission. But then, if I were Kiel, I suppose I wouldn’t put anything past me either. Didn’t mean the sting wasn’t there. “Seventeen-year-old niece of my father’s favorite priest. Beautiful girl.”
“He knock her up?” Kiel asked, sending a smile of thanks to the waitress when she delivered our coffee.
Around us, the group of kids finished up their iced coffee and headed down the sidewalk. There were people ambling by, like they didn’t see anyone or anything, and even the cops across the street had moved on. Right then, I was the only one holding Kiel’s attention.
“Took her virginity.” The coffee was rich, like I guessed, and I added three sugars and one cre
am to the mug to get the taste right. “She was set to go to St. Agnes that fall. Something she and her uncle had planned since she was ten. And then…well, Johnny happened.”
“I take it the priest found out.”
I nodded, remembering how freaked-out Johnny had been. Across the table, Kiel rolled his eyes, downing his coffee like it was water.
“And your father…”
“Still doesn’t know. Sammy decided she was in love with Johnny, and when the priest confronted him and demanded he marry the girl since he’d already taken her virtue, my brother paid them both off. Donations to the church for the insult and to the convent for the loss of their potential sister. Sammy didn’t feel worthy enough to go into the calling after that. It cost Johnny a lot. The priest told him he was a worthless Catholic who shamed his father’s good name and our mother’s precious soul by touching someone so pure and innocent. It was like a curse to Johnny. He said if our father ever found out, he’d up and join a monastery himself. Claims it’s his greatest shame.”
Kiel laughed behind his cup. “Like they’d take him.”
“Exactly what I told him.”
He watched me then, focused on my gaze. Did he feel the zip between us, that slow, barely there hum of chemistry shooting from my gaze to his? It wasn’t my imagination. I knew he wanted me. Last night was proof enough of that, but this was something more. Simple. Brief, but it was still there.
The thing, whatever it had been between us all those years ago, was still present. I knew I wasn’t imagining it.
“Last night…” I started, but I didn’t finish as Kiel shook his head, moving his shoulders down as though he was disappointed.
“Last night won’t be repeated.”
“Because you aren’t going to help me?” He didn’t answer, deciding, it seemed, to keep his thoughts and his answer to himself. I used the silence and his hesitation to my advantage, pulling out my purse. The clasp gave way when I opened it, and Kiel watched me as I took out the envelope and slid it across the table. “It’s yours if you want it.” I nodded at it. “That’s half. The rest comes after…” I trailed off on the rest of my explanation, knowing Kiel caught my meaning. “The job, though, it’s yours if you want it. Tomorrow. This afternoon. Just say the word.”
