Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Luca
A ldo strode into my office, an orange cradled in his thick hands. “Got a minute?”
“Are the cameras in place?”
“Yes.” He lowered himself into the chair across from the desk and began peeling the orange. “Four at her house, six at the restaurant, just as you ordered. If Segreto shows up, we’ll know it.”
“Good. Any word on Niccolò?” Through our contacts, we were trying to learn where my cousin was being held by the police. With any luck we might be able to get him out from under the GDF’s nose before he gave them any information.
“Sergio said nothing yet.”
I stroked my jaw. This was unusual. We had police on the payroll and they gossiped worse than old women. A Benetti behind bars should be big news in Calabria. Something didn’t add up. Were the police lying? Was Niccolò dead?
Aldo continued, saying, “Sergio is pissed you aren’t putting her on a plane and coming right back. ”
My fingers twirled a pen, irritation gathering in the nape of my neck. I didn’t answer to my younger brother, so I didn’t give a fuck what he thought.
Besides, something was off. Ever since the meeting with Rossi, I’d been turning the situation over in my mind. Why had Segreto come out of hiding to kill Palmieri’s daughter? And if Palmieri knew Segreto was guilty, why not find Segreto himself? Why trade my cousin away, when turning Niccolò against me would topple one of the biggest mafia empires in Italia?
Maybe Palmieri really did want to keep this quiet. But I had more questions than answers right now and that made me suspicious.
I tossed the pen onto the desk. “Sergio needs to do his job, which is to find our cousin, and leave Segreto to me.”
Aldo didn’t move, so I asked, “Was there something else?”
Before he could answer, my mobile buzzed. I checked the screen. Leonardo. We didn’t talk business over the phone, so I knew this was a personal call. Holding up a finger to Aldo, I pushed the button to accept. “Pronto.”
“Ciao, Papà,” my oldest son said. “You didn’t check in last night. Is everything all right?”
Leo was a worrier by nature, something he picked up from his mother. And he didn’t like that I’d come on this trip myself. “Ciao, figlio mio . I’m fine. A late night.”
“Do you need me there? Should I come?”
“No, that isn’t necessary. I won’t be here much longer.”
“Thank fuck.”
The relief in his tone concerned me. “Why? Che cosa?”
“I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but Gabi wants to buy a new car. He went to drive it yesterday.”
Mamma mia, another sports car. I scowled at the desk like it had offended me. “Your brother has enough cars—and he doesn’t yet have a license to drive.” I was too lenient with both boys, but Leo was cautious, responsible. Highly intelligent, but stubborn. Gabriele, on the other hand, was carefree and wild, more reckless. Like me at his age.
“You should talk to him,” Leo said. “He won’t listen to me.”
“I will. Tell me, how are you doing? Anything I should know?”
“I’m fine,” Leo said. “Finished work and I’m going to my mother’s.”
“Work” was following around one of his uncles and doing whatever was asked of him. “Tell Antonia I said hello,” I said, referring to his mother. She married a few years ago, which was another reason I was glad Leo lived on the estate with me. I didn’t want another man influencing my boys.
“How are the women there?” Leo asked.
Young. Beautiful, with dark eyes and dark hair. A little shy. Big tits. I shoved thoughts of Valentina away. “This is not that sort of trip.”
“Dai, Papà. Every trip is that sort of trip.”
“Is that what your Bianca would say?” Leo had been seeing the girl for almost six months. She was nice enough, but not who he would marry. I would make those decisions when the time came.
“Are you keeping the guards with you?” he asked, ignoring my question.
“I have been doing this a long time, figlio mio. You don’t need to worry about me.”
“You haven’t been away like this in a long time. It’s strange.”
True, I hadn’t been away much, especially not in the last few years. And I wouldn’t be away now if my cousin wasn’t sitting in jail. “I’ve only been gone a few days.”
“When are you coming back?”
The words caught in my throat. I didn’t have an answer. I could say soon, but I wasn’t sure it was the truth.
I can’t remember the last time someone cooked for me like this.
“Papà,” Leo said in my ear. “Are you still there?”
“I’m coming back soon,” I answered. “But you don’t need to worry, capisce? ”
“I can’t help but worry. I feel as if something is going on, but no one is telling me shit.”
I considered this. Maybe sheltering him wasn’t necessary any longer. At some point I had to start trusting my boys with the problems I dealt with every day. “We’ll discuss it when I’m back.”
“Okay. I need to go. Mamma is expecting me. Ti voglio bene .”
“Ti voglio bene, figlio mio.”
After we disconnected, Aldo smirked. “The boys say it’s purple.”
“What is?”
“The sports car Gabi wants to buy.”
I rubbed my mouth, suddenly exhausted. “Madre di dio, that boy has no sense.”
“Eh. No sixteen-year-old ever does.”
I couldn’t think about Gabriele right now. I had too many other things on my mind. “Tell Sergio to keep Gabriele in line.” My brother was the only person my youngest son listened to. “What did you find out about this dishwasher?” I’d instructed my men to dig into John Natale’s background. I didn’t like how protective he’d been of Valentina.
“Nothing.”
“Impossible.”
“It’s true. He’s a ghost. No records of any kind. That’s what I was waiting to tell you.”
I sat a bit straighter. “No taxes, nothing online? No bank accounts?”
“No. It’s like he doesn’t exist. Identity must be fake.”
Now this I did not expect. “Prison record? The ink on his arms was not professional.”
“None that we could find.”
Angry, I stabbed my index finger into the desk. “I want him followed. I want to know why a man with a fake identity is working in her restaurant.”
“Of course, Don Benetti.” Aldo pursed his lips and studied the table. “She is beautiful, no? Young women like her, they are like a wet dream for us old men, eh?”
The words lit my temper like a match to kindling. I didn’t want anyone leering at her, including me. “Watch your mouth before I punch you.”
“This would be unwise, considering she is here.”
I paused, my muscles freezing in surprise. Valentina was here? “Why the fuck are you only telling me now?”
He lifted his hands in a helpless gesture. “Should I send her away?”
I should say yes. I shouldn’t see her. No good could come of it. “What does she want?”
“She brought you dinner.”
What the fuck?
Aldo’s mouth curved into a smug smile at my obvious surprise. “But we know you don’t eat food from strangers,” he said. “So I’m happy to eat it on your behalf.”
I stood and grabbed my mobile off the desk. “Where is she?”
“In the kitchen. I gave her a glass of sparkling water and told her to wait.”
“Alone?”
He popped a slice of orange in his mouth. “I left one of the boys with her.”
I hurried from the office. The air was crisp inside the mansion, the whir of the air conditioning the only sound in the cavernous rooms as I strode toward the kitchen. Though I didn’t hear him, I knew Aldo was behind me. He was the quietest soldato I had, which made him the perfect guard for me.
In the kitchen I found Valentina on a stool, looking nervous and uncomfortable, while Carlo leaned against the counter and watched her. I scowled at him. “Get out.”
Ducking his head, Carlo went through the back door, outside to where the boys congregated, while Aldo paused in the kitchen entrance. “Need anything from me? ”
I shook my head. “I’m fine. We’ll catch up later.”
“I’ll be close,” he continued in our language. To Valentina, he said, “Ciao, signorina.”
Shifting on the stool, she gave a little wave. A large brown paper bag sat on the marble counter in front of her. I walked over slowly. “Valentina. I wasn’t expecting you.”
“I know.” She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and squirmed in her seat—and I started picturing other ways I could make her squirm. Like if she sat on my face.
“I feel stupid,” she said, distracting me from my dirty thoughts. “I had no idea there were so many people here. I assumed you were alone.”
“Ignore them. What’s in the bag?”
“I had Giovanni make you dinner. As a thank you. For helping me.” She shook her head. “Sorry, I can string words together, I swear.”
I kept my voice soft. Reassuring. “There is no reason to be nervous. I’m grateful. I can’t remember the last time someone surprised me with dinner.”
And I couldn’t. I ordered what I wanted, with a hundred men available to carry out my every need and desire. Surprises weren’t a good thing in my world.
Except from this woman, apparently.
I went to the cabinet and removed two plates. Then I found knives and forks and put everything on the island. “Would you like a glass of wine?”
“No, thanks. I have to drive back to the trattoria.”
I took out another sparkling water and returned to the island, taking the seat next to hers. We were so close that our legs almost touched. She didn’t move, so I finally asked, “Can I open it?”
That galvanized her into action. “God, sorry.” Taking the bag, she pulled apart the staples keeping it closed then began unpacking the containers. “I needed to make sure Giovanni could cook my grandfather’ s chicken parm. And we had extra, so I thought I’d bring you some. I hope you like it—even though it’s not Italian.”
She said the last part with such an attitude that I couldn’t help but smile. “I’m going to love it. Even if it isn’t Italian.”
Soon a plate filled with a cheese-covered chicken breast and spaghetti covered in tomato sauce stared up at me. It looked heavy and . . . unappetizing.
“You hate it.”
“I haven’t tasted it yet.”
“I can tell from your face. You don’t think it looks good.”
I was usually better at hiding my reactions.
Wiping my face clean, I picked up the knife and fork. “I wasn’t thinking anything of the sort,” I lied and cut a small bite of chicken. Thick cheese shifted around atop the meat like a sloppy mess. I forced myself to balance the meat and cheese onto the fork and bring it to my mouth.
Exactly as I thought. Heavy. All wrong. Too much happening in one bite.
I swallowed and wiped my mouth with the paper napkin. “It’s good.”
She threw her head back and laughed. “You are the worst liar.”
Wrong. I was an excellent liar. My life, my position, depended on it. Instead of commenting, I cut another bite and held the fork up to her mouth. “Now, you.”
There was no need to feed her myself, but a dark craving settled in my veins. I wanted her mouth to touch where mine had been. Dutifully, she leaned forward and accepted the bite, her lips pulling across the tines. Her eyes nearly rolled back in her head as she chewed, a little moan of happiness rumbling in her throat. The sight was so erotic that my cock twitched, blood making its way south to my groin.
“So good,” she said. “Even better than my grandfather’s. Giovanni is a genius. ”
I worked on the spaghetti next, anything to keep from staring at her. “I’m surprised you were able to convince him to cook this.”
“He wasn’t happy about it. He told me the cheese ruined it, when everyone knows the cheese is the best part.”
I didn’t comment. The spaghetti wasn’t terrible. Perfectly cooked, even if the sauce was a bit clumsy. I twirled up another bite.
She shifted again, her knee brushing my thigh. I was aware of her every movement, every breath, and it made me anxious, but in a good way. Could she feel this pull between us, too?
Suddenly, she cleared her throat. “Well, I should go. I just wanted to say thank you for, you know. Dinner the other night and for sending Roberto and Giovanni to me.”
I didn’t want her to leave. I wanted her to stay and keep me company. “Do you like them? Will they work out?”
“They’re amazing. Roberto is making suggestions on how we can improve and grow. And Giovanni is a dynamo in the kitchen. I’m both impressed and terrified of him.”
“He won’t hurt you.”
“No, I know that. I mean I’m terrified of getting in his way.”
“It is your restaurant, signorina. Do not let anyone intimidate you.”
“Not even you?”
I fought a smile and looked into her eyes. I held up a bite of pasta for her. “Do I intimidate you?”
Lowering her head, she accepted the bite. “Yes,” she said through a mouthful of pasta.
“Why?” I was genuinely curious. I hadn’t done anything but make her dinner and eat with her. She hadn’t seen me at my worst, not even close.
“Your watch.”
My head snapped up. “My watch ?”
She covered her face with her hands. “That sounds so stupid. I can’t believe I said that.”
I glanced at the titanium watch on my wrist. A costly purchase, but I hardly ever thought about it. I used the accessory to tell time because I didn’t always carry a phone. “Explain.”
“It’s expensive and sexy.”
Sexy?
My mind tripped over this word. I didn’t know what to do, speech deserting me, as the seconds ticked by. Women have been easily available to me since I was fourteen. There wasn’t a time when I wanted one and couldn’t have her.
Until now.
Fuck, it wasn’t fair. I was drawn to this girl for some reason, even when I shouldn’t be. And the feeling was reciprocated. In any other circumstance, I’d be angling to get her into a bed upstairs right now.
But I couldn’t.
I took a long drink to clear my head. “You think my watch is sexy.”
“Is that crazy? It’s just metal and gears. But somehow it’s elegant and mature. Like cuff links. Or reading glasses.” She wrinkled her nose. “Ugh. Ignore me. I’m going to go.”
My cuffs were rolled at the moment and my glasses were in my office, but I wore all those things.
She was out of her seat before I could stop her. “Again, thanks for your help, Luca. I really appreciate it.”
There was so much I wanted to say, but my mind was a tangled mess. “You’re welcome, Valentina.”
She bumped into the stool, her arms flailing a bit as she lost her balance. I grabbed her wrist to steady her, and my fingers stroked her warm, soft skin for a few seconds before I let her go.
“Okay, bye.” She gave me an awkward wave and headed for the back door.
“Ciao, bella,” I said softly, not taking my eyes off her.
She left and I was alone. Dinner. She’d brought me food. I shook my head and studied my plate. She thought my watch was sexy.
What was it about her? She was too young, too innocent. American. A girl I was using to lure out her father. Pursuing her would be the height of stupidity.
And I wasn’t stupid.
I can’t remember the last time someone cooked for me like this.
She’d regarded me like a hero for such a simple act. And to thank me, she brought me food in return. When was the last time someone I wasn’t paying had taken care of me like this?
I couldn’t remember.
Cazzo, this girl. She knew all the right buttons to push.
I wasn’t used to denying myself when I wanted something. I was the boss. The world bowed to my whims, not the other way around. As my father liked to say, Chi nasce lupo, non muore agnello. He who is born a wolf does not die a lamb.
I was tired of acting the part of a lamb with her.
Hoping wine might improve the taste of the food, I rose, poured a glass, then sat back down. My mind started churning, examining. Plotting.
This wasn’t complicated. The business with Valentina’s father and Palmieri was separate from any physical relationship I might have with her. We would monitor the camera feeds at her house and restaurant for any sign of Segreto, ready to grab him if he appeared. And there was a good chance we could get Niccolò out of prison before using her became necessary.
And if I eventually needed to get her on a plane to Italy, I would have an easier time of it if she trusted me.
There was nothing stopping me from having her. In fact, it might work to my advantage.
I needed to think. I returned my attention to the chicken dish. She wanted me to eat it? Then I would eat it. Even if it killed me.