Chapter 5
CARMELA
W hen I enter the dining room, my sister is sitting at one end of the table, and Dante is sitting on the opposite side beside my mother.
It’s not unusual for him to be here to visit Papa. Sometimes he joins us for a meal—this is not the first time I’ve found him talking to my mother while waiting on my father.
He smiles. “Morning, Carmela.”
“Morning,” I say. A flush creeps up my cheeks. I busy myself pouring a juice.
My graduation party is still fresh in my mind, where, later in the evening, I found out that the swimwear model had been kicked out. Jessica is in full conspiracy theory mode and convinced the woman is either his stalker or mistress who doesn’t know she’s supposed to keep a low profile.
My sister smirks at me like she is planning something. I throw her a look that says, don’t embarrass me.
“You look a little tired, Carmela,” my mother says as I take the seat next to my sister.
I mentally roll my eyes. I tossed on jeans and a T-shirt, put my hair in a messy bun, and have zero makeup on. Worse, I’m wearing flats, which I rarely do, and never when I know Dante is visiting.
“She’s been busy looking into college course options,” my mother adds, turning to Dante, perhaps realizing that she’s just drawn attention to my state of disarray.
“Have you decided on anything yet?” he asks.
“No,” I reply.
An awkward silence follows. Was I supposed to offer more? I’m caught somewhere between wanting to stab him with my fork, and acute jitters.
“And how is your brother?” my mother asks Dante. “We haven’t seen him in a while.”
Did Jessica just snicker?
Before Dante can answer, the door from the kitchen swings open, and a flustered Nina enters. “Sorry to interrupt you, Mrs. Accardi. Your driver was looking for you, said you had an appointment, and had asked him to take you.”
“Oh, I completely forgot,” my mother says, rising from her chair.
We have a no cell in the dining room rule at my father’s insistence.
My mother refuses to own a cell, either way.
It’s not the first time she’s been reminded of an engagement.
“My apologies, Dante. I must go. See you later, girls. Behave, Jessica.”
“Why doesn’t she tell you to behave?” Jessica mutters the moment the door closes.
“Because she knows I’m good,” I reply tartly.
Dante chuckles but covers it by taking a sip of his coffee.
“She’s obsessed with you,” my sister says, staring directly at Dante.
Heat floods my cheeks. What the hell? My eyes swing from my sister to Dante and back again.
“Sexy Dante,” she purrs in an exaggerated Italian accent that perfectly replicates Nina.
Dante chokes on his coffee.
God, kill me now. Jessica has long had a thing for accents and often throws out the ‘Sexy Dante’ quip just to get a rise out of me.
Still, I wasn’t expecting her to actually say it in front of him despite her numerous threats to do exactly that.
“She overheard…” I cut myself off, not wanting to get our maid in trouble.
“Someone saying…” I wince. Now it sounds like it was me and not the damn maid.
“She doesn’t even know what she’s talking about. ”
“I know more than you.” She smirks and turns to Dante. “She wants to twerk for you while naked.”
“She?” Dante asks, brows raised, and lips curved up on one side.
“Nina,” Jessica says, popping a fresh strawberry into her mouth and munching contentedly. “She said she would share you with another maid because you were too much of a man for one of them to handle.”
I swear I will strangle my sister for this.
“Naked twerking,” Dante muses. “I’m confident this conversation would not fall under your mother’s definition of behaving.”
“Are you going to tell on me?” Jessica tosses out like a challenge.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Dante says. His eyes slide to me, and he winks before turning back to my sister. “Besides, I’m confident you will out yourself before your mother or father for optimum dramatic effect.”
That wink has me in a flutter. This is the most relaxed I have ever seen him. I only wish it wasn’t my sister’s nonsense that was the cause.
“I made that part up,” Jessica says. “The rest of it is all true.”
My father arrives.
I haven’t had any more than a sip of my juice, but I excuse myself. Jessica follows me. She knows I’m in a mood with her and loves the fallout of her games as much as the game itself.
“Why did you say that?” I demand as the door closes behind us.
“What?” She stops next to me and shrugs.
She’s taller than me when I’m wearing flats, and I hate it.
“I was just, you know, messing about…” Her expression turns smug.
“Also, you know why Christian is never around, don’t you?
I can’t believe Nina interrupted us at the worst time.
I would have loved to watch Dante squirm answering that question. ”
I frown. “What about Christian?”
She grins and starts walking.
“You are such a brat.” I stalk after her. Half the time she makes things up for dramatic effect, as Dante pointed out. But she’s also a shameless snoop.
She stops again, waiting for me, her eyes sparkling because she knows she has reeled me in. “He got kicked out of Redlands for assaulting a teacher.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Whatever. Don’t believe me. I don’t care.”
“No one kicks a Barone out of school, especially Redlands,” I say. “They’re heavy benefactors. Ten years ago they funded a whole new wing. He could burn the building down, and it would be glossed over.”
“Well, it happened. They didn’t even fight the decision, pun intended, so I heard.”
“Where did you even hear this?”
“Papa’s study. His voice was raised. It wasn’t like he was hiding how pissed he was.”
“Jessica,” I hiss. “You shouldn’t use that word. Or go around snooping’!”
She grins. “Mother must be out of the loop on that one. But she never liked Christian. I heard her telling Papa he was a psycho, and we should send him to Italy where they know how to make men. He’s been working for the family for years already. For all we know, he was told to make the hit.”
“Make the hit?” I scoff. “And mother would never use the word ‘psycho’ in any context, ever. Besides, what is he? Seventeen? He can’t have been working for the family for years.”
I’ve not spoken to Christian in several years. Our last interaction was memorable and left blood on my party dress. Still, I thought they would at least have gotten him some decent therapy… Maybe not. “You’re being ridiculous. And making stuff up.”
“Fine. She called him psychotic, which, in regular speak, means psycho. And he has definitely been working with Jero for a while now. You’ll find out soon enough.”
I don’t know a lot about Jero other than he looks like he chews rocks for fun.
I’m pretty sure he’s the man they call on when something or someone needs to be dealt with quickly and quietly, no questions asked.
Christian is a lot of things, but he doesn’t look like a thug… although I did call him one once.
A sudden clamor erupts in the dining room. The door is flung open. My father storms out, barking orders to the soldier at his side. Dante follows. Another soldier comes up the rear.
The front door opens, and two more armed soldiers pause at the opening.
My father’s eyes slide to the right, where Jessica and I stand. He mutters something in low, rapid Italian that I can’t quite catch to the soldier at his side.
He stops next to us.
“Dante will stay with you. I need to go. Do exactly as he says.” The words, the tone, and the stricken look on his face are like liquid fear flooding my veins.
“Papa, what is it?” Jessica demands.
“Not now, love,” he says. “Not now.”
Then he is gone, leaving in a rush, and, instead, Dante is there.
“What is it?” I whisper, my eyes searching his.
I’m cast back to the last time I was close to his brother.
Only now, and with the context of time, do I consider the way Christian made me feel safe despite the violence of the moment.
Yes, I had been scared when he left another boy’s blood on my dress, but not of him .
They have the same eyes.
And instill the same sense of safety with a side serve of danger.
Dante takes my hand. He has never touched me in such a familiar way, and it comes as a shock.
The front door shuts, but with a soldier on the inside. There is another of my father’s men at the far end of the hall. Both of them are armed with automatic weapons.
I’ve never seen automatic weapons inside the home before.
He takes my sister’s hand, too.
She starts crying and throws herself into his arms.
My throat is too tight to form words. I’m numb. I want to cry too, and I don’t even know what the fuck is going on.
“We’ll wait in the library,” he says to the man at the door.
We go to the library.
Three hours later, we get the news that my mother is dead—shot in cold blood.
My father rushed to her side but was attacked on the way. He’s alive but in a coma.