I don’t know what to say to that because my heart is so afraid to love a man like him. But I did already. I was so close to telling him before it all came crashing down at his father’s birthday party. But how can I love him if I can’t forgive him?
So, instead, I opt for a cup of tea and to sit down with him to plan how we are going to take care of this scumbag who wants us six feet under.
Chapter 23
Presley
I stare at the white coffin, and it is all too real. In just under an hour, people will be admitted into the estate to pay their respects to Stefan under the assumption he is actually dead. Because that was our solution – a funeral.
What easier way to find out of your enemy is dead other than to attend his funeral and look at his corpse? That is our thought, anyway. He doesn’t like putting me at risk, but we have already proven that the security here is airtight, and even I have a gun strapped under my dress and ready to go off when the moment comes. I have been shown a picture of the man in question, and I am ready to take him out while Stefan’s men concern themselves with anyone who might come with Marius to protect him.
Stefan comes into the room wearing the tux he got married in, and I almost throw up all over my black dress. I am supposed to be in mourning, so for once, I opted to skip on the red.
“I don’t think I can watch you get in that casket, Stefan,” I whisper, surprised at myself for admitting it. Now that the anger has worn off, I am just tired. Tired of being lonely. Tired of pretending to feel nothing for him. I know I shouldn’t. That he is in every way wrong for every woman to ever step foot on this planet, me included, but there is something about us that just works anyway. And being fucked up with him was better than the kind of fucked up I was enduring back in Texas. I don’t think I can ever truly go back to my old life and be alright with it.
Stefan leans down and kisses me on the forehead, and I feel like even though he is not truly dead, I need to spit it out and not wait until after the fact. “I’m pregnant, Stefan,” I admit, and it feels like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders. There is nothing on my conscience now.
He smiles sadly. “I know. It’s why I wanted to find a way to bring you home. I am sorry for everything I have done, and you should know I killed Lajos because of what he allowed to happen to you. The deal was supposed to be that nobody touched you. It was just a means to get you to me, you were never supposed to be harmed.”
“I shouldn’t forgive you,” I tell him.
“I don’t blame you, but I will not have this child raised by two people who hate each other. We need to work this shit out.”
I pull him to me and crash my lips against him passionately. I am desperate to feel him again. This whole funeral thing is bringing it into perspective. I pull away and wipe a tear from my eye. “I want to try and work this out, Stefan, and to be your wife. But there can’t ever be any secrets again.”
“Understood.” He nods, giving me one last peck on the lips before climbing into the coffin and laying down, his breathing slowing to the point that you have to look hard to tell he is alive. He has slathered on makeup, so he looks pale, and the white suit with the white casket makes it hard to tell as well. The seats are far enough back that his body can barely be seen.
I take my seat at the front and keep my head down, playing the part of the depressed widow. But in my head, as people are filing in and being seated by the maids and butler, I am going over the plan and waiting to get a glimpse of the man I am supposed to kill. I have my doubts about pulling it off, mostly because he has so easily alluded us, and Stefan had worked with Lajos for years and didn’t even know he was working for this Marius.
And then I see him, his hands in his pockets. He is dressed like everyone else but doesn’t look like he belongs here. His body language reminds me of someone who goes into a business only to use the bathroom.
I stand up, just minutes before the funeral is meant to begin. Stefan’s parents are already seated, and most of the people here are staged. Though, there are a few that are going to get quite a shock when now both a wedding and a funeral end in a gun being pulled. But Stefan has plenty of resources to twist the press and any investigations in our favor. Not to mention that Mariana has now been brought up to speed on this mess.
I walk up to Stefan and pull out a handkerchief, dabbing at my face and nose like I am grieving. My hand is shaking, which is no good since I am about to try and hold a gun and shoot, but I cannot help it as real as this looks. I know now that I am in love with this man and am overjoyed that he is not dead and instead will be here to raise this child with me.
Marius is hanging around to the side, wandering closer and closer to me and the casket. I don’t know if he means to make a move against me like this or not, but it is now or never.
I subtly reach in and give two taps to Stefan’s right arm, our signal, but to everyone else I will just be sad and saying goodbye.
And then I give three more taps, Marius only feet away.
Gasps are my cue as Stefan sits up in his coffin, miraculously alive. I whip my gun out and point it at Marius before he can react.
One shot in the chest and two in the head to be sure. Just like I practiced.
The enemy is dead.
Epilogue
Stefan
A few months later . . .
To say that the last year hasn’t been a whirlwind would be a completely fabricated lie. I decided to purchase a slave, but not just any woman, the daughter of Texas’ biggest oil manufacturer. I’ll admit that my hand in what I did was wrong, but would I trade it for the world? No, I wouldn’t. I firmly believe that Presley and I have gone through everything for a reason. Orchestrating everything in the way I did may have been fucked up, but it was worth it. Little did I know back then that we’d be where we are now.
It’s my first-time taking Presley, and our newborn daughter, Daniella out of Brazil. We’re not just out of the country on a leisurely vacation. No, we’re in New York City for one of the largest Clan meetings to date. I’ve been hearing rumors about this meeting for a very long time, as most of us have.
One of our own, Aria Baptiste, now known as Aria Moretti, married one of the sons that come from a prestigious crime family. The Moretti’s own the Arcane, which is the largest hit for hire assassin group in the entire world. The amounts that people will pay to bring death to someone’s door still blows my mind.
Rumor has it that we’ve all been asked to come to New York today to hear about a marriage arrangement between Stefano Moretti’s only daughter, and one of the last remaining single Clan leaders. This alliance would mean that the Clans would be no doubt the most feared mafia. Our reach would be endless, and with great power comes countless opportunity.
“Are you sure it’s alright that I’ve brought her?” Presley asks. I turn towards her and take in the way her hair has grown over the past few months. It had just hit her shoulders when I discovered she was pregnant with our daughter, but the pregnancy accentuated her. I’ve heard lots of things about how women have a horrible time. But not my Presley. Instead, her hair grew out in long, full locks with a slight curl that wasn’t quite there before. Not to mention she has a little more junk in the trunk for me to grab onto, not that I mind it at all. She’d always been so thin before. Personally, I think she needed to add a few pounds and our lovely little girl gave her the chance.
I place my hand on the back of her right shoulder and give her a squeeze. “They’ve been itching to see her. Trust me.” The truth behind it is Mariana requested to see the little girl. There was a time, many years ago when I tried to get myself beside her. I had a vision that I would be the man ruling the Clans, especially when Mariana was so determined to fight against the promise that her father had made to Ion’s father when she was just a newborn. I made an absolute fool of myself when I had too much to drink and got too handsy with her. I will never use alcohol as an excuse, though. My actions were my own, and I apologized to my Queen pro
fusely for it. Not to mention, Ion had his way with me one night. Or maybe it was two? Ah, it was so many years ago. I can barely keep track. So, Mariana wanted to see my child and so she shall.
We’re located in some type of skyscraper in the middle of Manhattan. It’s a different location then we’ve previously used and looks quite a bit different. It doesn’t have that old, New York Charm. What I mean by that is we don’t have any old, gaudy craftsman style wood splattered across the place. Instead, it’s clean straight lines with many pops of color. We’re standing in some sort of office space. It almost looks like it used to be a law firm. “They told me that you got here early.” Mariana speaks, coming out of nowhere.
She’s in a black dress which isn’t abnormal. I’ve noticed that black is her power color, just as red is Presley’s. I nod my head down at her and lower my back out of respect. An old-fashioned custom that we’ve recently picked back up. “What’s that saying, ‘punctuality is the virtue of the bored’?” I say with a laugh.
“Oh, well if you’re bored it must mean that there’s no issues. I guess I should be relieved.”
“I’m not sure if relieved is the appropriate word for it. Cautious might be a better choice.”
“Ah, yes. Cautious of whatever is going on in that mind of yours.” Mariana says, but I don’t mistake the sly jab she’s making. She takes a step further towards Presley and peers into her arms. “Daniella is beautiful, just like her mother.”
I glance down to catch Presley’s smile. I’m sure every man thinks this, but seeing happiness spread across the woman I love’s face is . . . priceless. Motherhood has changed her, and definitely for the better. There’s no doubt that she was strong before, but now I think she will be feared.
“Oh, are you pregnant?” Presley asks, and all I can do is think about the times I’ve assumed a woman is pregnant. Spoiler alert, it’s never been the case. Instead, I’ve been the asshole.
Mariana beams, running her hand along her stomach. “I thought it wouldn’t be so apparent in this dress. Guess I was wrong.”
I glide my hand from Presley’s shoulder, down her arm until I’m holding her hip. “Congratulations. I’m sure both Ion and Bianca are thrilled for the impending arrival.”
Mariana smiles with a glimmer in her eye. “Bianca is over the moon with excitement. I wanted to keep things quiet for a bit just in case I miscarried, but when she asked why I was getting fat. . . well, cat was out of the bag.”
Ion comes strutting up behind his wife, clad in his typical black Armani suit. “Ah, there you are. The others came in on the elevator a few minutes ago. Are you ready to get started?”
Mariana nods, turning to her husband. “Yes, let’s get started. We have quite a few things to go over and it’s a rarity to get all of the Clan members plus their wives in one spot.”
Both Ion and Mariana lead the way down a hall into what looks to be a large conference room. Instead of walls, big pieces of glass separate the hallway from the conference area. Clan leaders are sitting around the room in various places, even seeing children on their mother and father’s laps. Looking at Rhys and Vera, I see that they have their hands full with twin boys. Anton and Natasha sit across from them, with a little girl who can’t be more than maybe three or four and a boy just a shy bit younger. Willow and Duncan, who are arguably the most risqué couple because he has no Romanian blood whatsoever sit next to Rhys and Vera. Willow was the bastard child of her father, the last remaining Adame and married the man tasked to protect her. The two of them have a young son named Graham.
Aria and Salvatore are in attendance, which is quite a bit odd if you ask me. Normally Aria’s brother, Marcel handles the business for her family since he is now the head of their Clan . . . but as I glance around the room, I see he is here as well. Looking around, I see the rest of the Clan leaders are here too, even Ungur and Sala. They hardly ever make it to a meeting. It just goes to show me that the Moretti crime princess must’ve been promised to one of these two.
“Please, everyone take a seat.” Ion’s voice booms out, instructing everyone to do as he asks. Presley and I take a seat almost directly next to Mariana and Ion. Across from us sits a woman and an older man. The woman looks incredibly similar to Salvatore, and knowing what I do, this must be his little sister. “I’m sure you’ve all seen that we have company.” Ion looks over to the woman and man. “This is Stefano Moretti, the kingpin of the Arcane. Beside him is his lovely daughter, Carla.” Ion takes his place next to Mariana and looks to her.
“I’m excited to announce the unification of our two families. This has been a long time coming and I firmly believe that we will have a mutually beneficial relationship. Stefano has arranged for Carla to marry one of our head Clan members. You all know I am not one for these types of traditions. In all honesty, I believe they are something that should be abolished. But change does not happen overnight, and I’ve accepted that. Carla, I welcome you into our family.”
I watch the exchange that Mariana and Carla have. The woman is hard to read, but that’s a given. Italian women are always difficult to read. They were trained in the art of mastering the ‘poker face’ before they can even say cannoli.
“Have you selected my husband to be?” Carla asks, with a tiny hint of saltiness. Her eyebrow is cocked up, staring at our leaders.
Mariana looks shocked for a moment, but laughter takes over her shortly. “Yes, Phillipe, would you please stand?”
I don’t have to turn my head far because Philippe is sitting directly beside Presley. The red headed man in his early forties stands and looks down at his bride to be. I watch the way he tries to hold back his smile, looking down at the beautiful Italian girl who is maybe in her late twenties or early thirties. Regardless, she’s absolutely beautiful, but not that fake type of beautiful. There’s not one ounce of Botox or silicone pumped into this woman, and what a rarity that is these days. “You’re even more beautiful in person, Carla.”
“Shit. Pictures don’t do him justice.” Carla mutters under her breath. I doubt anyone beside the few of us who are sitting close to her could make out what she just said.
Presley obviously heard her with the smirk that she’s wearing. Mariana clears her throat and continues speaking, “One year from today, we will unite our families the most sacred of ways. Phillipe Sala and Carla Moretti will be married, and I expect each and every one of us to be there.” Mariana looks down to Daniella, “Even the smallest of us.”
Philippe’s eyes don’t waver from Carla’s, looking at her almost the same way I stare at Presley. I don’t believe in love at first sight or any of that shit, but I do believe in instant connections and I sure do think they have one.
I’ll just sit back and watch from the sidelines, because my defiant little angel and I have our own life to live.
Defiant (The Clans Book 6) Page 14
