Chapter 13 #2
“I overheard Ettore telling Jero how you and Carmela hate one another,” Jessica announces gleefully. “That’s why he wants you to be her bodyguard. Because he’s a dick.”
“Jessica!” Carmela’s voice must raise an octave. Her face is flushed again.
“What? Ettore is a dick,” Jessica continues, turning to her sister. “You said so yourself only yesterday.”
I snort a laugh. Poor Carmela looks ready to faint. “You’re a nosy little sprite. What else did you pick up?”
“Nothing. You won’t tell him I called him a dick.” There is a note of challenge in her voice.
Fuck, this kid is hilarious. She has a mouth on her, for sure, and natural talents when it comes to snooping.
“You’re right. I won’t tell him. I’m just the bodyguard. We don’t hear a damn thing. First rule of the job.”
Jessica grins, pleased with herself.
I grin for different reasons. So that’s why Ettore put me on Carmela? He thinks I hate her, which I suppose is true. But he also thinks she’s safe with me… that I don’t want to fuck her.
And that would be his third mistake.
CARMELA
I’m deeply unsettled when I return home. The trip to the coffee shop was supposed to give us some breathing space from Helena, her sniping, and her renovation plans—time spent with my sister doing something normal.
Only Christian was there.
And Dante is gone.
My heart hurts and my head aches.
On the plus side, Jessica sees Christian as her damn kindred spirit and was the most animated I’ve seen her in a while.
I hate to admit it, but he’s good with her and doesn’t treat her like a child.
I also get a strong impression he’s not going to go running back to Ettore and report all the questionable things she says, which is a relief.
“Carmela-watching was not my decision, babe.”
Babe? Really? Does the man come with a sixth sense that tells him how to infuriate me?
And why the hell did I get so flustered? It’s not like I like him. I detest him, even if he looks ridiculously good in a suit.
“You’re blushing,” Jessica says, knowingly.
I roll my eyes. We’re hidden away in my bedroom, where she is supposed to be catching up on some schoolwork, and I’m doom-scrolling Instagram, trying to think about anything but the wedding.
Anything but the wedding, and, now, Christian.
And Dante.
Better add Helena and her personal mission to erase every beautiful thing my mother did with the house.
An image passes my feed of the former swimwear model that Dante was sleeping with.
The algorithm really hates me.
“It’s been an eventful day.”
I put a block on her account.
“Did you slap him? What did he do?”
Jesus! “No, and nothing.”
“His right cheek was red, and I thought I heard a sound when I came back to find you… so I just hung around outside the door.”
“He was just rude,” I say.
First babe and then Mrs. Gallo. I can’t be Mrs. Gallo. I might throw up over the vestibule if I have to go through with this farce.
Only no one is coming to save me. Thinking about Dante makes my heart compress in my chest. He’s now a capo and gone from my life.
“Dante has been made a capo,” I say quietly.
“Why?” Jessica asks. “He was always Papa’s advisor. What does this mean?”
“I don’t know,” I admit.
I get a strong impression that this was not done in the manner of promotion. More likely control. I still don’t know Ettore. We should have gone for dinner on my birthday, but something came up, and he’s been busy the last two nights.
I was relieved about it.
“We need to tell Papa,” she says.
“I expect he already knows.”
“At least Christian is still here. He’s one of the good ones, hey?”
“Something tells me in the days and weeks to come that you’re going to need something to rage at, someone to slap, punch, whatever.” Then he took my stinging hand, uncurled my fingers, and rubbed it so gently I wanted to cry. “I’m here for you.”
Christian is definitely not one of the good ones. I think he might be one of the worst. But in times like these, one of the worst ones might also be the best. “Yeah, I think he is.”
CHRISTIAN
“That was a shame about Dante,” Jero says conversationally as we drive through the downtown traffic. “You two are close, mate?”
“I guess so,” I say, staring out the side window. Carmela and her sleuth sister are safely back at the house, and now I’m on my way to a job with Jero. “Not like we lived in each other’s pockets. When I moved in with him, we mostly just passed occasionally and grunted, you know?”
A truck cuts us off, and Jero breaks sharply, waving his fist and cursing.
Jero is alright. I get on with him. Life is never dull, and I get to thump a deserving asshole every now and then. But he’s also Ettore’s man. The fucking enemy now.
His questions could be a casual chat between two guys who work together or digging on Ettore’s part.
I act casual on the surface, like I don’t give a fuck about much.
The truth is, I do. My father was a good man, and my mother is a sweetheart. But they were never meant to be part of this world, and I feel in my soul that I was. My uncle tried his hand at underboss, and that’s when everything started to come undone.
My mother and Dante are all I have left, and I’d burn the world down for either of them in a heartbeat if I needed to. I have always been like this: focused, intense, and not giving a fuck about the lives of people outside my family.
I get out of the car before Jero can ask anything else, waiting for him to round the vehicle so we can enter together. I’ve been working with him for a while now, but I wouldn’t hesitate to end him if he presented himself as a threat.
He stops next to me, letting me feel the weight of his stare. I understand my limitations, that I’m not an invincible killing machine, yet . Jero has twenty pounds on me, even if I top him by a couple of inches.
Then there are the years, which help in some ways and not in others.
Could I go toe to toe with him and win today?
Probably not.
I let my face empty before I meet his gaze.
He frowns. “Your brother has just been fucked over by Ettore.”
“And?”
He shakes his head, his frown deepening. “Nothing, I guess.”
I wait for him to say more. For all he’s a good soldier with a propensity for violence, he is not stupid.
“Your poker face is on point.”
“Poker face?” I grin and gesture toward myself. “This is the real deal.”
His eyes flicker with something I don’t like. Empathy, maybe. It’s either that or he knows something I don’t, and that will piss me off.
“She’s a good kid,” he finally says.
She? At first, I think he’s talking about Jessica. But then I realize, no, he’s talking about Carmela. The thoughts that slam through my mind are homicidal. I swear I don’t even blink.
He stares back, equally unflinching.
I’d choose Dante over Carmela. Only, my brother is all in for her. Why is it only now, as Jero eyeballs me, that I realize it’s no longer a straight choice?
Yesterday, I told myself I was okay with Ettore putting his hands on her—just a casualty of war. Sometimes you have to make priorities and all that. Only Dante won’t be okay with it, and now my fucking head hurts trying to unpick what the fuck that means.
In a moment of startling clarity, several things become apparent as I stand on the sidewalk, staring at arguably the most dangerous man in the city, trying to work out if he’s issuing a threat.
I fucking hate Carmela Accardi and the chaos she has brought to my life.
But I also want to fuck her.
And I can’t have her.
Even if by some miracle I could remove Ettore from the picture, my brother put a claim on her first.
“You’re right. You’re the real deal,” he says, finally.
“Some men need to go through some seriously fucked-up shit to reach your level of ease with violence. But there you are, just pop out of the can ready for action, from a happy home and all. Ettore doesn’t see it.
He thinks you’re his little protege. The son he never had.
If it comes down to the wire, you’ll have Dante’s back over Ettore. ” He shrugs. “And me.”
“I’m not going to start a war with Ettore over Carmela if that’s what you’re asking.”
The truth? I might.
He sighs, and some of the tension eases. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m asking. I’m not big on thinking, in case that’s not obvious. But you are. There is a fuck ton of it going on inside your head all day, every day. One day, you’re going to be dangerous. Ettore doesn’t see it.”
He doesn’t wait for my reaction, just stalks toward the betting shop.
Asking myself if I’m about to be reminded of my place, I follow Jero inside.