Chapter 53
CARMELA
D ays pass. I’m still closeted in Dante’s apartment. Tensions are escalating; that’s as much as Dante has told me.
True to his word, he hasn’t fucked me.
I haven’t seen Christian and with every day my worry for him grows.
I haven’t spoken to my father or Jessica.
And I’m slowly losing my mind.
This is coming to a head. It’s like a taste in the air, a desperation that crawls under my skin, building a pressure that compels me to act.
The longer this goes on the more convinced I am that someone I love will get hurt, and, further, that I alone have the perfect solution to bring this to an end.
But like all plans, mine comes with a few hitches. I had it all planned out: how I would ask Cherry to stop by with some imagined essentials, how I would ask her for the code, and if that didn’t work, how I would threaten to give her location away.
My reasons are good ones. I would be betraying her trust for the greater good.
It wasn’t like I would actually give her location away.
Then, when I picked up the cell phone Dante gave me, and got ready to message Leon—because lying to him was easier than lying to Dante—that’s where my plan fell apart.
I don’t have the disposition to hurt Cherry, even for the greater good, even though leaving is the right thing to do. There are ethics I still hold—and want to hold—that separate me from Ettore and his kind.
Then I wondered if I told her why I needed the door code and what I planned, she would help.
More likely, she wouldn’t, and then she would tell Leon and Dante, and my plans would be well and truly screwed.
Which is when an alternative came to mind.
I’ve just got to be in the right place at the right time, or specifically, my new cell phone does.
It’s taped to the back of the picture in the foyer, and the camera is peeking out.
I spent hours figuring out the best location to put it, which is when I discovered there was precisely one.
But as long as she doesn’t stand super close to the keypad, which she has no reason to, I won’t follow her into the foyer; I should get the pattern of her fingers, maybe even the numbers that she presses.
It’s worth a shot.
It’s this or nothing. I could try the same plan with Dante, but he’s here all night, and I’m pretty sure my cell wouldn’t record eight hours’ worth of video without running out of storage… or battery. Slipping out of bed to turn it on before he leaves feels risky.
So here I am. Dante has left. I’ve just texted Leon to ask for some more personal care. My period has finished, but I’m not expecting him to question the request that closely.
He doesn’t.
Two hours later I get another message from him asking if I’m good with Cherry coming up now.
My nerves are frayed, and my hands are shaking. It takes me three attempts to turn the record function on, including nearly knocking over the hot pink vase on the low console beneath the picture.
I need all of this to be over and Ettore to be dead. Unlike betraying Cherry’s trust, I suffer no moral or ethical dilemmas when contemplating putting a blade between Ettore’s ribs.
That’s my plan.
To escape.
Catch a train into the city.
Get picked up by his men.
Claim the Russians held me, and I got away.
Ettore will be relieved. It might start a war, but he’ll be dead that first night, and then Dante can step into the void and put an end to it.
It sounds easy.
I’m not na?ve enough to presume it will be.
CHRISTIAN
“They know something’s going down,” Roman says as we navigate the downtown traffic. We’re following two Russian lackeys and are not being subtle about it.
There are no rules about them being on our turf, but there are about them dealing or engaging in other illegal activities.
They keep that shit on their own patch, and we’re all good.
Which means there’s nothing we can do about their suspiciously heavy presence, beyond following them to see where they go.
Ettore is convinced that they’ve taken Carmela. Following their every move is his plan.
I don’t question orders. I do as I’m told, which I’ve always done, and it makes it easy for me to play stupid now.
“We have three times the usual numbers of soldiers on the streets. They probably think we’re about to launch a turf war.”
“Are we?” Roman asks. He’s driving, and I’m glad about that because the most he can do is spare a glance at me. “Do you know what’s going on?”
Roman is in the out of the loop group. All he knows is that Ettore has raised the alert and wants a presence on the streets. “Don’t have a fucking clue, mate.”
Fuck, I sound like Jero.
“You sound like Jero,” he says, smirking.
“Thanks. I just realized that myself.”
He grins, but it fades, and he clears his throat. “So, you think it’s something to do with Mrs. Gallo? A week after Cosmo loses his mind and head. Feels like too much of a coincidence. Maybe Cosmo was working for the Russians?”
Cosmo was a dipshit of the highest order. Him working with the Russians makes zero fucking sense, but I’m not going to point that out.
“Who knows? I just do as I’m told and don’t ask any questions.”
“I mean, you two must be close,” he continues, not taking the hint to shut the fuck up. “You’ve been her driver pretty much since their wedding.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” he says. “Just an observation.”
“Well, don’t fucking observe. Drive the car and observe the Russian pricks. I recognized Koyla in the passenger seat. I want to shake that slimy fuckwit down for no reason other than the fun of it.”
“The don was pretty clear,” Roman points out. “We don’t touch them unless they do something that breaks the treaty. All they’re doing is driving around and being nosy fuckers.”
He’s right. I wish Ettore would go ahead and do something fucking stupid that gets him killed. So far, other than being pissed at everybody, tensions haven’t escalated in the way we might have hoped.
The pressure is constant. It’s only a matter of time before someone uncovers something that points to me or Dante, and it’s for sure more likely to be me.
I haven’t seen her in a fucking week. Dante promised me he wouldn’t fuck her.
At the time, I didn’t think of adding any other rules.
But yeah, not fucking still leaves a lot of scope.
I never saw myself as this territorial. I was always looking after her for him.
But something’s changed somewhere along the way.
The ants are restless under my skin, urging me to act, and warning me that danger is near.
Maybe they’re just acting out due to the separation.
This is the longest I’ve been apart from her since that time she told Ettore I’d put my hands on her.
That was six days in total, and this is now up to eight—more than a week.
“Looks like they’re getting out,” he says. “Hey, isn’t that the coffee shop Mrs. Gallo usually goes to?”
“Yeah.” The ants swarm. “Pull over and park a bit further up behind them. Let’s see what they do.”
CARMELA
My stomach flip-flops when Cherry calls out her greeting from the foyer. A surge of guilt and panic rushes me.
What if she sees my cell phone? I’ve stuck a bit of plaster over the light, but still…
Only nothing in her voice suggests she might have. This is all normal. I can do this.
She comes through the door from the foyer into the living area with a big smile. It calms my racing heart, and I smile back.
“Hey, it’s good to see you,” she says. “How’ve you been? You’re looking better.”
“Thank you. And yes, better.”
She waves the bag she’s holding. “I’ve got everything. Times three just in case… and some chocolate because I suspected you might be losing your mind here, and chocolate makes everything better.”
She’s not wrong on any count. This conversation feels so natural, once again, despite her being, at a guess, ten years older than me.
On reflection, the last year has changed me and forced me to mature at an accelerated rate.
I stopped seeing my school friends soon after the wedding and probably would have little in common with them now.
“Hey, don’t look so worried,” she says. “I won’t tell Dante about the chocolate. You don’t have to share it with him.”
My smile is weak. Being around her is so easy that for a moment I’d forgotten this is not a social visit.
She’s kind, considerate, and caring. Someone assaulted her and screwed her over, and now I feel like the lowest form of scum for using her, calling her up here under false pretenses so I can find out the door code.
She’s going to hate me when she finds out what I’ve done.
Despite faking it countless times with Ettore, it feels entirely different with Cherry. She’s not a monster, for a start, and I find I already care what she thinks about me.
“It’s been a little rough.” Stick close to the truth. “Dante doesn’t tell me much, but I’m pretty anxious, you know.”
That felt more authentic. Given my circumstances, she wouldn’t expect me to abound with joy.
“I can only imagine,” she says. “If I knew anything that might allay your fears, I would tell you, but I’m merely a dancer at his club with a marginal level of trust because I patched Dante up once.”
“You did?” My brows pull together.
“It must be a year ago.” She grimaces. “I sort of mentioned it last time we met, but you were distracted.” She indicates her vibrant red hair. “My wig does that to a lot of people.”
A year ago? That must have been right before my wedding to Ettore. I remember the fading cuts and bruises on his face. He still has a tiny scar beneath his right eye.
“Thank you for doing that. I saw him afterward, at my wedding to Ettore… And nobody’s merely a dancer at a club.”