“I do.” He snaps his fingers and the dog obediently returns to his place.
“He’s quite the guard dog,” I say, trying to get back to our banter. Trying to pretend like what happened last night isn’t on the forefront of my mind. Is it on his?
I straighten to take in the study. When I see the blanket and pillow on the edge of the couch, I wonder if he spent the night on it. It’s a beautiful broken-in Chesterfield that spans the whole of one wall.
“He doesn’t like most people, actually.”
“I wonder where he gets that from.” I smile, look to Cerberus and give him a wink. He wags his tail and I see Cristiano shake his head in my periphery. It gives me a small sense of satisfaction.
The man on the couch clears his throat and for a moment, it looks like Cristiano forgot he was even in here.
“Dante, this is Scarlett. Scarlett, my brother, Dante.”
Dante nods to me but he doesn’t smile, so I don’t either. He doesn’t like me, and I don’t like him, so I guess we’re good. Except that he’s got a gun in a holster on his shoulder and I have nothing.
I look around the room. The study itself is beautiful, richly done like the rest of the house, with antique furnishings, a wall of books, and dark curtains to filter the sun. The scent of whiskey and Cristiano’s aftershave, same as in his closet, linger in the air, making me draw out each inhale.
This little fact irritates me and when my mind wanders to last night, to our kiss, I fist my hands and squeeze my eyes shut to force the memory away.
“We’ll go into Naples today to buy you some clothes.”
I open my eyes, look down at myself, at the same dress I wore yesterday. I still don’t know whose it is.
“How long will I be here?”
“You’ll be here for the foreseeable future. Sit.” I take one of the chairs in front of his desk.
I watch him put a ledger away and notice the stack of photos he’s got turned upside down on one corner.
“How long will you keep Noah down in that cell?”
“I’m undecided.” He pours coffee for both of us. “How do you take your coffee?”
“Black.”
He pushes one of the plates of food toward me, but I don’t touch it. I sip my coffee instead.
“Whose room did I sleep in?”
“Elizabeth.”
“Your sister?”’
“She was only five at the time of the killings. Her best friend was sleeping over. Mara. Lenore’s granddaughter. She disappeared. Just vanished into thin air. No body and we haven’t been able to find any trace of her. Did your brothers ever mention a little girl?”
I shake my head, but I know what he’s thinking. I’m thinking the same thing. Flesh trade. She’d be fifteen now. And the real creeps like them even younger than that.
“She’s probably dead,” he says but I know he doesn’t believe it.
I nod half-heartedly and when I look up, his eyes are intent on mine.
“Do I need to put bars on the windows, Scarlett?”
“What?”
“Lenore said you had the window wide open.”
“Your concern is touching.”
“Do I?”
“I’m not going to kill myself.”
“If you do, I’ll throw your brother out the same window. Are we clear?”
“You’d do that, wouldn’t you?”
“Who’d be in charge of the cartel now that your brothers are dead?”
Swift change of topic. “I don’t know,” I start. I haven’t had anything to do with the actual running of things ever and I’ve never wanted to. “Half of them left when Diego and Angel killed our parents. The other half have probably gone to the highest bidder now that Angel and Diego are dead. They’re nothing but mercenaries.”
“Well, the family seems to be reuniting.”
“What?”
He turns over the stack of photos and holds them out to me.
I put my coffee down and take them, flip through them. For a moment, it’s like déjà vu. Our old house, a huge but cozy estate on acres of land protected by forest. I haven’t seen it in ten years. I’ve been in Italy ever since the coup.
I touch the whitewashed wall, see the welcome mat with the once-bright red poppies on it. They were my mom’s favorite flower. Her favorite color red. She told me once that dad wouldn’t let her name me Poppy. He thought it was too western a name—my mom was half-American and lived most of her life in the states. She met my dad on a trip home. But he did allow Scarlett which is how I ended up with my name.
The mat is trampled now. It should be replaced. The porch, too, looks run down, the once bright yellow paint peeling off the wooden railing, weeds growing through the floorboards.
But that’s not why Cristiano gave me these.
As I flip through, I see their faces. I don’t recognize the younger ones but the older ones I know. Uncles and others who worked for my father. The ones who left when Diego and Angel took over.
“How did you get these?”
“Drone. You recognize them?”
“Some.”
“Keep going.”
I do, my heartbeat picking up because I’m sure things are about to get worse. And they do. Fast.
It’s when I see the small cabin high in the mountains that my heart sinks. It’s where my father held his most important meetings. Complete privacy. I don’t want to know what else he did up there, but I do know if you were in real trouble with him, that’s where you went. Some never came back. The ones who did were in bad shape.
But now I see it’s one of my cousins, well, the husband of a cousin. One who I hadn’t seen since the murders of my parents. I called him Féfé, a nickname because I couldn’t say his name, Felix, when I was little. Noah couldn’t either and I remember teaching him Féfé even though Felix hated it. He married my uncle Jacob’s daughter.
And beside him stands Marcus Rinaldi. It’s the only reason I notice Felix at all. He’s an utterly unremarkable man.
I look up at Cristiano. “When were these taken?”
“Just a few days ago.”
“I don’t understand. Marcus is in Mexico?”
“Where is that cabin?”
“I’m not sure exactly. On De La Cruz land for sure. It’s where my father held secret meetings.” I leave out the rest.
“And that’s Felix Pérez. Jacob’s son-in-law.”
I nod to confirm.
“Was he aligned with your brothers?”
“I don’t know. I never saw him, but I can’t be sure. But these men,” I say, pointing to a few. “They walked away after the killings. They didn’t trust my brothers. What’s going on, Cristiano?”
“Nothing good, I’m sure.” He checks his watch, stands up. “Would you like to see Noah?”
“Really?” I ask, hopeful.
He nods.
“Yes, please.”
“Alec will take you down.”
“Can he come up? Maybe we can just walk outside for a little bit?”
“Not now.”
“Just for as long as you say, I promise—”
“I said not now. We’ll discuss it later. I have an idea.”
“What idea?”
“Later. If you want to see him, now is your opportunity.”
I stand, not wanting to blow it.
His eyes skim over me. “It’s my mother’s dress. Or so Lenore tells me. I don’t remember it.” He says that last part without meeting my eyes.
I look down, straighten the skirt of the dress. “Oh.”
“I thought I’d remember if I saw it on you.”
“I’ll take her down before I go,” Dante says, standing. I’d almost forgotten he was there.
“Where are you going?” Cristiano asks him.
“I need to get some things for tonight.”
“You’d better show up.”
“I will.” Dante turns to me, the easy smile when he was talking to Cristiano disappearing. “L
et’s go,” he says, opening the door.
I go because I want to see Noah.
Once the study door closes, Dante takes hold of my arm. He’s not rough but it’s unnecessary. He stops me, makes me turn to him.
“You think you’ve got some hold on him?”
“What?”
“You’re a fuck toy to him. That’s all. Don’t get any fucking ideas.”
I tug my arm, but he doesn’t let go.
“I don’t like you. And I don’t trust you,” he says as if I didn’t already know.
“Feeling’s mutual.”
A flash of irritation darkens his eyes. “I’ve got my eye on you, Scarlett De La Cruz. And I’ll do whatever I need to do to protect my brother, so watch your step.”
Before I can even respond, he starts to walk us toward the hallway that will lead down to the cells. But just before we get there, I hear a familiar voice.
One that makes my skin crawl.
We both stop and turn. It’s my uncle. He’s here, in Cristiano’s house. He turns to look at us, first at Dante, whose hand tightens on my arm like he’s making a fist, then me. He’s talking to a soldier.
He’s obviously caught off guard when he sees me, but he recovers quickly. His eyes skim over me as do the soldier’s, the latter without emotion. My heart is beating so hard against my chest all I hear is rage. Blood pumping through my veins. Pounding against my ears.
“Dante,” my uncle says by way of greeting. He smiles.
I look to Dante whose expression is dark. Murderous even. Well, I guess we have one thing in common.
I take a step toward him, but Dante’s hand tightens.
“Let’s go,” he says.
I touch the metal nail file I found in the bathroom that I strapped around my thigh. A knife would be better, but this is sharp and sturdy. It’ll do the job.
But Dante tugs, hand bruising now.
The man with my uncle clears his throat. “Cristiano doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
My uncle gives me a one-sided grin then disappears.
I watch him go, feel my eyes narrow.
As Dante leads me to my brother, I hear another voice from behind me. I glance back and recognize the man who had peeked his head into Cristiano’s room that first morning. He doesn’t see me as Dante tugs me along, but I hear my uncle stop to greet him and shake my head.
Cristiano is meeting with my uncle. My fucking uncle. If this doesn’t tell me where I stand in this mess, where I stand with Cristiano, then nothing will. No matter what my stupid brain wants to make of moments like last night.
Cristiano and my uncle are aligned. That puts Cristiano firmly in the opposite corner from me. It’s not that unbelievable, is it? The only unbelievable part of this is that I ever thought he’d be in mine.
15
Cristiano
Moments after Dante has taken Scarlett, my uncle and Jacob walk into the study. I stand, shoving my hands into my pockets.
Cerberus’s low growl comes from his place in the corner. I don’t comment as Jacob glances over at the hound.
“I don’t know why you keep that dog,” my uncle says.
“I like him,” I say. “Jacob.” I nod in greeting.
“Good to see you, Cristiano,” Jacob says.
My uncle takes a seat and crosses his ankle over the opposite knee. He chooses the Chesterfield at the far end, away from Cerberus who lays his head back down but keeps that low growl going, eyes on my uncle.
I smile at Jacob. Well, it’s an attempt at a smile. I don’t like him. I don’t trust him. Not even after he killed his own nephews to prove his loyalty to me. He switches sides too often. One of those mercenaries Scarlett mentioned.
“Sit,” I tell him, gesturing to the chair beside the one Scarlett sat in.
He does. “I see my niece walking freely in your house.”
My uncle makes a sound, but I don’t turn to him. “Scarlett is not your concern.”
“Watch out for that one, son.”
“I’m not your son. Never call me that again.”
“I’m just saying—”
“Never call me that again,” I say slowly, wanting to be sure he understands.
He puts his hands up, palms to me. “All right, all right. No harm intended.” He turns to David and laughs, expecting my uncle to laugh with him I guess, but he doesn’t. Instead, he just looks back at Jacob, eyes flat. Unimpressed.
I wait, silent too as he returns his attention to me. He clears his throat.
“Your son-in-law met with Rinaldi,” I tell him, studying his response.
Jacob sided with me against Rinaldi. He sided with me against the De La Cruz brothers. He pulled the trigger to execute them. This is an important detail. I expect him to be number one on the cartel’s hitlist. He’s a traitor to them.
Or he’s smarter than I give him credit for.
The only thing I know for certain in this life is how cockroaches like Jacob De La Cruz manage to crawl out of their holes unscathed when the rest of the world has been razed to the ground. He’s a survivor. And an opportunist.
“And I have some news from that meeting.”
“Well, isn’t that convenient.”
“My son-in-law and I are aligned. We always have been. I am now the most powerful man in the De La Cruz Cartel and since I only have daughters, he is next in line.”
“Are you now? By killing your brother and his wife along with your nephews and then executing those same nephews?”
He clears his throat.
“Italian families don’t quite work that way,” I say. “Explain it to me.”
“I was never on board with what Rinaldi did to your family and I have never been in support of human trafficking. Rinaldi duped Diego and Angel. They were the muscle, really. Not much in the way of brains.” He points to his head. “Easily manipulated. But when they offered Scarlett up to Rinaldi to seal the cartel and the mafia’s union by marriage, they would have shut me out. You know this. You know what they planned for me. I was no longer useful to them. Only took a cut of the money,” he pauses to study me momentarily. I just look back flatly. “I’ve been in touch with Felix who has kept communication open with the rest of the family. They all agreed that once Diego and Angel were out of the way, the cartel would reassemble under a new leader. Europe is a profitable route for us, after all. And with the connections and protections you and your uncle can guarantee us, well, yours is the side I am on. I’m loyal to you, Cristiano. As is Felix.”
“Then what was he doing meeting with Rinaldi?”
He seems momentarily taken aback but recovers quickly. “Rinaldi was attempting to re-negotiate his contract. Remember Scarlett would have been the glue to bind us to him.”
I knew this. I knew why the marriage between Scarlett and Rinaldi had to take place. But to hear it from this scum, to hear him talk about her life like it’s his to be played with, it makes my blood boil.
“But he no longer has possession of her. You do,” he tacks on.
Scarlett is a pawn. It’s all she ever was to them. It’s what she should be to me.
“Turns out you were right, Cristiano,” he finishes, and I realize I’d tuned him out. He talks too much anyway.
“Right in what?”
“Keeping her alive,” my uncle says, standing now, joining us and making a point of not looking at Cerberus who raises his head and tracks him across the room.
“The Cartel wants her and Noah back. Assuming the boy isn’t dead yet,” Jacob says.
I don’t confirm one way or another. “And why do they want them back, pray tell?”
“They’re blood.”
“So family is important? I’m confused.”
Jacob snorts, looks toward the bottle of whiskey. “My brother used to drink the same brand you know that?”
I glance over at it, remember how Scarlett always looks at it. “Did he?” I wonder if it reminds her of her father and I think about what Lenore said this morn
ing. But I don’t care to discuss this detail with Jacob. I want the information he has. The information he is feeding me piecemeal.
“That meeting between Rinaldi and the cartel didn’t go as Rinaldi hoped. He thought he’d meet the next in charge. Pick up where Diego and Angel left off. But they know what happened. They know it was you who killed the brothers.”
“Do they know you pulled the trigger?” I ask, wanting to be sure he understands his predicament and my power.
From the way his expression tightens, I know they don’t.
“Not to mention the money Rinaldi owes the cartel with the cocaine shipment at the bottom of the ocean and the human cargo intercepted,” he continues, not missing a beat. “All that matters is that my son-in-law is the one in charge now in Mexico and I’m in charge here.”
I feel my eyebrows rise on my head. “You’re in charge?”
“What I mean is that through me you have a path. The cartel knows Rinaldi is a longshot for the winning side. You hit them hard. He owes them a lot of money because it happened here. After delivery. They also know he has lost Scarlett.”
“And that you have her,” my uncle tacks on but I’ve done the math. I did it a few years ago.
“Make her your wife and you’ll have the cartel’s loyalty. Together, with the Cartel reinstated to nearly the numbers my brother had, you can crush Rinaldi under your foot and regain your position as the most powerful man in Italy. In all of Europe.”
“And what’s in it for you?” I ask Jacob.
“Me? Well, I will see my niece married. Her future secured.”
“You would have executed her just two days ago, Jacob. I was there, remember?”
He smiles a smile that doesn’t touch his eyes. “I’ll be honest here. I don’t see myself going back to Mexico. I know there are those who still blame me for going along with Diego and Angel’s plans to overthrow my brother. As far as Rinaldi was concerned, I was never welcome. He had Diego and Angel. Why pay a third man? In exchange for my role in helping you secure your place with the cartel I would like to have what I need to retire comfortably. Disappear from the world so I don’t have to look over my shoulder at every turn.”
“You want out?” Why does that surprise me?
He nods. “I’m not young like you, Cristiano.”
With This Ring Page 10
