Convenient Mafia Vows (Ruthless Billionaire Mafia Kings)

16. Caleb

16

CALEB

“What did you speak about?”

It sounds harsher than I intended but armed with the information Terry imparted at the meeting, I need to know exactly what’s going on. Victoria doesn’t know the mafia boss. She doesn’t associate with the kind of people I deal with every day. She has no idea what people like Don Dragonetti are capable of.

“Nothing really.” I can feel Victoria visibly shrinking away from me and immediately relent.

“Did he ask you about our marriage?” I tone it down. I don’t want her to clam up because she’s scared of me. Fuck knows, I can be an intimidating bastard when I need to be but now is not one of those moments.

“No.”

Something in her tone suggests otherwise, but I’m not going to be a brute about it. I don’t like how she’s staring at me like I’m an ogre. I liked it way better when she was telling me how much she freaking wanted me to fuck her last night.

“I-I asked him if he’d been shot before.” Her voice is timid, small, thanks to me, but I can’t help smiling. “And he said that he’d like me and Olivia to be friends someday.”

I hear my mom’s sharp intake of breath from the corner of my eye.

“I think you should stay here until the wedding reception.”

My cock deflates at the thought of not sharing my bed with Victoria tonight, but a promise is a promise, and the don can’t be seen to take a bullet in his arm and take it lying down. He will retaliate. But the big question is how.

Victoria slides from her stool and faces me squarely. She might be a good nine inches shorter than me in her stocking feet, but I can feel the slow-burning rage building up inside her. I guess it’s how she’s dealt with her scumbag brother all these years.

“No. I’m coming with you, or I’m going home.”

Game on. “You know I can’t let you go home. I promised to?—”

“Protect me?” She arches an eyebrow. “I get it. But protect me from what exactly? Don Dragonetti?” She emphasizes the word ‘Don’ like she only just understood the implications of the title.

“He’s a dangerous man, Victoria. I can’t protect you, if I don’t know where you are.”

“So, take me with you then. Isn’t that what husbands do?”

“Victoria, Caleb is only thinking of what’s best for you and Abigail,” Mom interjects. “You know that Terry and I would love to have you stay here.”

“It’s very kind of you, Moira, but I can’t impose on your hospitality. This is between me and Caleb.” Victoria keeps her eyes on me when she speaks.

“It’s okay, Mom.”

I glance at her and give her the nod that I have the situation under control even though I’ve never felt less in control in my life. Since Victoria walked into my life, I’ve felt as if I’m wading through quicksand that keeps shifting out from under my feet. The parameters keep altering. In any other circumstances, I’d deal with Olivia and form an alliance elsewhere, but her and Abigail’s presence in my life complicates matters.

I will not see them get caught up in this to save my own reputation. Because that’s what this boils down to. An alliance with the Dragonetti family will give me the security to step down at some point in the future and raise a family, peacefully, and without the constant threat of danger or destruction.

“You said you didn’t want to be trapped inside my apartment,” I reason. “I’m offering you an alternative where I know that you will be safe.”

“I’m not scared of Don Dragonetti.” She opens her mouth to say more, and closes it again, the words left unspoken.

“Well, maybe you should be.”

My fists instinctively clench at the thought of Olivia trying to hurt Victoria. How can she be so na?ve? She shared a few words with the man and now she thinks that he has her best interests at heart.

“Whoa, what’s going on?” Emily appears from the decking end of the kitchen, Abigail by her side. “I can feel the heat from outside.”

“I’m just trying to convince Victoria to stay here for a while.” From the way Emily’s eyes slide towards Victoria and back again, I can guess that she knows the truth about our agreement too.

“And I’m trying to tell him that we should stay together.” Victoria’s tone is defiant.

“I like it here,” Abigail says, and Victoria flashes me a look that says we should leave Abigail out of it.

Emily grins. “Now, now children, anyone would think that you’re an old married couple.”

Yep. She knows.

“I don’t see what the problem is. Why can’t she stay wherever she wants?”

Emily is Terry’s baby. Sure, he brought us up like his own sons, but when Emily came along, the first girl in the family, it was the turning point for him. Rather than encouraging her to learn about the family business, he was determined to do everything in his power to keep her out of it. Like a parent warning their eldest child not to spoil the magic of Christmas for their younger siblings, he insisted that none of us ever divulged the true nature of our business to our baby sister.

So, Emily is still blissfully unaware that her mom, dad, and brothers are all part of one of the strongest mafia families in the city, even if we’re not the most violent. She sailed through high school, got into Cornell, and is studying to be a vet. Sometimes, I envy her the normal path her life follows even if she does have the wealth behind her that most kids don’t have. But it means that she often views the world through rose-tinted glasses with no idea of the strings being pulled in the background to offer her this idyllic future.

Victoria is still watching me, waiting for me to respond to my sister’s question, daring me to tell her the truth.

“Does this have anything to do with Mr. Dragonetti?” Emily asks. “He seems really nice. He came and said goodbye to me and Abigail before he left. Said that we’d be seeing a lot more of each other.”

I could mention the shooting incident, but twenty-one years down the line, and Terry’s warning is still imprinted on my brain with indelible ink. Emily never finds out the truth. If I hear one of you told her, you’ll have me to deal with . I don’t know what the don meant when he told Emily they’d see a lot more of each other, but my tongue remains firmly tied when it comes to telling her the truth.

“Okay,” I relent. “You can come back to the apartment with me. But on one condition.”

“I’m not getting Lauren to run errands for me.” Victoria is still standing her ground, and I have the sudden urge to bend her over my knee, pull down her panties, and slap her ass. And yep, like fucking clockwork, my dick responds to the mental image.

“This is the twenty-first century.” I force myself not to let my eyes travel any lower than her lips because if my gaze reaches her breasts I’ll remember leaving my mark on them, and I might as well kiss goodbye to being the one in control. “We have internet.”

“Speaking of.” Emily swings Abigail up into her arms and deposits her on the counter. “We’ve been looking at schools, haven’t we, Abigail?”

Abigail nods seriously. “I want to go to Sudbury Valley.”

Victoria moves closer, her hands instinctively fluttering towards the child to prevent her from toppling off the counter. “I don’t know anything about Sudbury Valley, sweetie. I don’t even know where it is.”

“It’s in Massachusetts,” Emily chimes in. “My friend went there. It’ll be perfect for Abigail because the children get to study whatever they want. They choose their own education. If Abigail wants to play with computers all day, that’s what she does.”

“What about the rest of her education?” Victoria’s gaze flits between me and Emily. Curiosity has already gotten hold of her though. “What about reading and Math and history?”

“What about it?” Emily shrugs. “Have you ever used algebra since you left school? Why should every kid in the country be forced to take the same exams at the same time when they all have different abilities and different learning levels?”

“I can read,” Abigail says.

Victoria wrinkles her nose. Pensive.

If I don’t step in, she’s going to drag me all the way to Massachusetts to look at a school where kids run amok. But then I remember that I don’t know Brailand’s whereabouts, and that I told Catherine Montgomery that we were not interested in sending Abigail to the Lutheran Prep Academy. Like her education is any concern of mine.

Massachusetts is what … a three-hour drive from New York City? If they have boarding facilities, at least Abigail would be safe there with a bodyguard to keep an eye on her. Do people send their five-year-olds to boarding school? Would Victoria agree to it if she knew about Olivia?

“You want to go check out the school?” I ask Abigail.

“Can I?” She holds out her arms for me to get her down off the counter.

“I’m coming with you,” Emily says.

Victoria isn’t smug when we get back to the Wraith. She’s withdrawn as if she has pulled her tough shell back around her shoulders and climbed inside, curled up on herself like a tiny snail wary of peering outside at the rest of the world.

She doesn’t react when I leave her in the apartment and head down to the casino, and I realize that the silence is more disturbing than her yelling at me or demanding to come with me the way Olivia would. At least if she yelled at me, I would know what she was thinking. Now, I step out of the elevator wishing for the first time since the Wraith opened that I didn’t have to show my face.

“Mr. Murray.”

Denise Cartwright matches my stride as I march along the plush corridor that leads to the casino. The overhead lights are bright. The temperature is pleasantly warm, not so hot the visitors enter the casino with a sheen of sweat on their forehead, or so cold that their fingers are too cold to handle the chips. The artwork on the walls is subtle. We want visitors to focus on the entrance, we want them to be suitably wowed by the sheer scale of the floor when they step inside that they don’t even remember how they got there.

“A position has come up in the restaurant. Someone walked out yesterday.” Denise is breathless from trying to keep up with me. “How would you feel about me offering the role to Victoria?”

I sense her holding her breath. “That won’t be necessary.” I stop at the entrance, forcing her to stop with me. “Is there anything else?”

She shakes her head. “No.”

I know it makes me sound like an asshole, but I can’t risk anyone knowing about our arrangement. Denise might be easily replaceable, but playing God with people’s lives for no reason isn’t the way I roll. So, I walk into the casino, my straight spine informing her in no uncertain terms that the conversation is over.

The bartender has a drink waiting for me when I arrive at my usual spot at one end of the bar. Brandy on the rocks. It’s a regular night at the casino. Busy. The low hum of voices providing the evening’s soundtrack.

The tables are monitored. If a customer is on an outrageously high winning streak, an alert comes straight through to my phone complete with images of the table and the relevant figures. Tonight, the banker is winning. Which means that I’m winning, although even the brandy tastes sour after the last twenty-four hours.

There’s something in the air though.

You don’t sit in a casino night after night without learning how to read the atmosphere like a sailor tasting the weather. Leaving my drink on the counter, I wander around the floor, acknowledging the regulars with a nod and smiling politely at the women who catch my eye, slowly making my way to the exclusive room.

Ivan Petrov isn’t hard to miss. The space around him is statically charged, his thick black hair standing on end as if he has rubbed it with a balloon. Aside from the almost audible crackle, his voice reaches me before the door has swung closed behind me.

As if sensing my presence, he turns away from the table, leaning to the left to peer beyond me as if he expected me to bring back-up.

My hackles are instantly raised.

“Ivan.”

I force a warm smile and shake his hand which he reciprocates by grabbing my arm and holding on several beats too long. He smells of liquor. But this isn’t what has me on red alert. A drunk I can handle with my eyes shut and both hands tied behind my back; a drunk with a proposition is an altogether different matter.

I take small comfort from the fact that Olivia Dragonetti isn’t with him, but if Terry’s informants were correct, Ivan Petrov knows exactly what went down last night, and who was responsible.

“Where’s your wife?”

He rolls out his bottom lip in a petulant gesture worthy of a spoiled child. Ivan has a chiseled jawline and cheekbones, and dark eyes that shine like wet pebbles, runway looks, but they hide a vicious temper, and a lack of remorse generally associated with serial killers.

“I wanted to meet her for myself, dispel the myths that she bewitched you with some kind of evil potion and has taken to parading you around the Wraith with a collar and chain.” He laughs, a sound without mirth, tips back his head, and drains his glass.

“We’re having a new collar made.” I smile. “If you’re looking for a new fetish, I wholeheartedly recommend trying it.”

He sniffs loudly, twisting his nostrils exaggeratedly.

“What can I get you?” The sooner we get this conversation out of the way, the sooner I can move Ivan on and get back to my wife. The casino has lost its appeal for me tonight.

Ivan checks out his empty glass. “Whisky. Neat.”

I signal the bartender and lead Ivan to my private table in a booth at the far end of the room. The drinks appear on the table before our butts touch the seats.

“I don’t know what went on between you and Olivia,” Ivan begins, “but I half-expected to see images of your wife’s corpse splashed across the tabloids this morning.”

I don’t react. I’ve seen too many mafia wives crushed by power struggles and revenge. It’s the reason why I work seven days a week, three-hundred-and-sixty-five days a year, so that, when the time comes, I can step away from this life and keep the people I love safe. When a mafia boss falls in love, all bets are off.

“Something must’ve gotten lost in translation.” I play dumb. “I heard there were bigger fish to fry.”

His mouth contorts into a sinister smile. “How are things at the Rinse these days? Seems Ms. Dragonetti has set her sights on bagging herself a well-established casino resort if the rumors are to be believed.”

I sip my drink. “I prefer to trade in facts not rumors.”

“Now you’re talking.” He leans back in his seat, downs his drink in one. His eyes dart around the room, missing nothing. “There’s a little indictment sheet floating around the commissioner’s office with Cassius’s name on it. I’ll give you that one for free.”

“It won’t be the first time, and it probably won’t be the last.”

He sits forward, his boozy breath mingling with mine. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that. You throw enough shit, some of it is bound to stick eventually.”

I signal the waiter for another drink for my guest. He might not get what he’s hoping for from this conversation, but I’ll make damned fucking sure that he remembers my hospitality.

“I appreciate the heads-up,” I say once the server walks away.

“My family can make it go away.” He swallows half his drink and releases a sigh.

“That won’t be necessary.”

He leans across the table and slides my drink towards me. “You misunderstand me. We’re not in the habit of greasing the commissioner’s palms out of the goodness of our hearts. An alliance between the Petrovs and the Murrays will chase the Dragonettis out of the city with their tails on fire.”

Don Dragonetti is one of the original linchpins of organized crime in New York City. Taking him down would be like dismantling the Empire State Building and starting over with the wrong color bricks, and much as I want to take Olivia out of the equation, the intention doesn’t stretch as far as her father. I respect the don. This isn’t how it is supposed to end for him.

“I know what you’re thinking.” Ivan empties his glass, swilling the liquid around his mouth before swallowing. “But this is the twenty-first century. Time to move on and reach new heights, my friend.”

I down my drink in one and stand, offering the other man my hand. “I hear you, but the Murrays are not in the market for an alliance.”

He hesitates. This handshake isn’t quite as warm or as friendly as the first. “In that case, I thank you for your time.” He goes to walk away but stops and turns back to face me. When he speaks, his voice is low. This is for my ears only. “Don’t let this be your first mistake. No one is invincible.”

My conversation with Ivan Petrov is still replaying inside my head when I return to my apartment. It wasn’t even a veiled threat. Olivia told him about our potential alliance with the Dragonettis, so if it goes ahead now that I’ve rejected his offer, there will be repercussions.

The kind of repercussions we’ve been careful to avoid. Until now.

I step out of the elevator and spot a soft toy on the steps leading down to the living room. What the fuck. It’s a couple of beats before I remember that Victoria and Abigail are staying here, which makes the earlier threat even more unsettling. Until the situation with Olivia is resolved, it isn’t only about me.

For the first time, I can relate to how Terry felt when Emily was born, and he finally handed over the business. He would do whatever it takes to protect his family—still does—but it’s the word ‘family’ that’s suddenly taking on new meaning for me.

“Caleb?”

The voice jolts me back to reality. Victoria is curled up on a sofa in the living room, an open book on her lap. Her hair cascades over her shoulders when she folds the book, places it on the coffee table, next to an empty coffee cup, and stands. She’s wearing faded jeans and a green-checked flannel shirt, open at the neck, and I’ve never wanted to fuck her more.

“Is everything okay?” Her gaze drops to the soft toy in my hand, and she chews her bottom lip as if worried that she might be the cause of my problems. If she only fucking knew.

“Long night.”

I head straight to the brandy decanter on the drinks cabinet and half-fill a crystal tumbler. It burns as it goes down but does nothing to erase the Petrov family offer from my mind.

Victoria watches me without moving.

The brandy softens my mood a little and replaces one problem with another. Should I tell her how badly I want to fuck her, or should I keep her at arm’s length, keep this arrangement on a business level as originally planned?

My cock already seems to have other ideas.

“Caleb…” She takes a deep breath, her breasts swelling beneath the shirt, and my pulse starts racing. “I need to tell you something.”

Fuck. I swallow the rest of my drink and refill my glass. “Go on.”

“Earlier, at your mom’s house.” She pauses. “I was talking to Emily on the decking about … our arrangement.” I don’t speak. I’ve never heard the silence in this apartment before now. “I didn’t realize that Mr. Dragonetti was standing inside the kitchen watching us.”

Fuck!

Deep breath. Count to three.

On two, I ask, “Did he hear?”

“I-I don’t know.” She casts her eyes down to the floor.

“How can you not know? You spoke to him. What did he say?”

“He didn’t say anything.” She pauses. “He said he can understand why you married me.”

He heard. It’s only a matter of time before he does something with the information. His comment to Emily, that they’ll be seeing a lot more of each other, suddenly takes on a whole new meaning.

I slide my phone out of my pants pocket. I need to warn Kyle and Terry. Especially Kyle since our meeting this morning. If Olivia knows, then that loose cannon will be firing in all directions before we can reverse the damage.

“Caleb, I’m sorry.”

I hear her voice catch, but I’m too busy letting my family know that shit’s about to go down thanks to her carelessness. It’s my fault. I should’ve warned her what she was getting into, but I thought her innocence would serve her better than a summary of mafia life. Maybe I should’ve just married Olivia and sucked up the consequences.

“Maybe he won’t tell Olivia.” Her voice has shrunk, which only irritates me more.

“Maybe we’ll all be living on the fucking moon this time next year.” I can be an asshole when I want to be, but right now, I’m not about to put her feelings first.

So, I don’t even hear her move until she thumps the elevator button to close the doors.

“Victoria?”

I cross the room and mount the three steps up to the elevator in one fluid movement, thrusting my arm between the doors just as they’re about to close. I don’t even think about it. I step inside the elevator, press her up against the back wall, and kiss her.