Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
Valentina
S omeone had punched him.
Someone punched that powerful, beautiful man in his beautiful face. Who? An officer? Another inmate?
As I walked through the prison corridors, I couldn’t help but worry. Prison had to be hell on earth for Luca. He wasn’t safe here, not with enemies at every turn, as well as guards who now had the chance to abuse the great Luca Benetti. What bruises were hiding under his clothing? Was he sleeping? The food must be terrible, especially for a food and wine snob like Luca.
I shook off the lingering anger at the hurtful things he’d said. It was clear he didn’t mean them, belittling me for the benefit of whoever was watching, but I hated hearing him speak like that. Sneering at me like I was nothing, a woman “gagging” for his cock.
He preferred for me to go away, but after seeing that bruise on his cheek?
Not a chance.
On the plane earlier I researched famous mafia bosses who were put into prison. Some were killed by other prisoners, while the rest grew old and died behind bars. None were found innocent and none were released. It was a grim sentence.
Now I had a choice. I could walk outside, where Gabi was waiting, and go to Luca’s home in Catanzaro. Sit around while his family tried to decide what to do.
But sitting around wasn’t really my style. I needed to do something .
Luca’s arrest was connected to the GDF and my father, the blackmail over the officer’s murdered daughter. So maybe there was a way to use Flavio and get Luca released.
I had to try.
When we reached the main check point, I collected my belongings. Before the officer turned away, I said, “I would like to speak to Signore Palmieri of the GDF. Can you help me find him?”
He grimaced. “Signorina?—”
“Please. I am not leaving until I meet with Signore Palmieri.” I gestured to the phone on the desk. “Ring him, per favore.”
He stared at me as if I told him Texan olive oil was superior to Italian. “I can’t ring the GDF and have them come here on my command.”
“You can and you will. Tell Palmieri that Valentina Montella is here and I’m not leaving until he meets with me.” I lowered myself down into one of the two plastic chairs in the room. Then I folded my arms and stared straight ahead. I wasn’t going to debate this or be intimidated into leaving. There was a slim chance I could fix this—today—and get Luca released. Nothing else mattered.
The guard muttered to himself in Italian, probably curses, then sighed several times. Just when I thought he might give up, he sat in his chair and picked up the phone, punched some buttons. There was a long conversation and I heard him say my name to someone before hanging up. Another call came in soon after and he talked for several minutes, mostly listening. He gave brief answers, then put down the handset .
We waited.
Nerves raced over my skin and my leg bounced. I picked at my fingernails and thought about Gabi waiting outside for me. We landed an hour ago and came straight here, so I had no idea if his family knew we were in Rome. But I stared at the door, worried that Sergio or another Benetti would rush through the door and try to stop me.
The guard’s line buzzed. He lifted the handset and listened, then I saw his shoulders stiffen. Nodding, he repeated “va bene” a few times before ringing off.
He stood and, keys jangling, came toward me. “Signorina Montella. Follow me.”
I had no idea where we were going, but I was ready to battle. I had to do whatever I could for Luca. We continued into the facility, passing offices and desks. Finally, the guard stopped, opened a door, and gestured for me to go inside.
Four cement walls and an old table greeted me. “I don’t understand,” I said, looking up at him. “Where’s Palmieri?”
“Per favore.” He waved his hand to indicate the room.
Tentatively, I stepped in. I wasn’t so sure about this plan anymore. No one other than Gabi knew I was here and I was at the mercy of these strangers. I swallowed hard. “Is Palmieri coming?”
The guard didn’t answer. He pulled the door shut . . . and I heard the lock engage.
I reached to check, just to be sure. Yep, he’d locked me in. Shit!
Before I let my imagination get away from me, I settled at the table and did some deep breathing. It wasn’t helpful to panic until there was something to panic about. I was a U.S. citizen with rights. They couldn’t leave me here forever and they couldn’t hurt me.
No one knows I’m here. They can do whatever they want.
I pulled out my phone. No service. Great.
After a few deep breaths, I decided to distract myself by looking at the photos I took during my short time with Luca. He hated photos, but he let me snap a few. Thank god I hadn’t deleted them when I learned the truth about us.
His handsome face filled the screen, his eyes warm and affectionate, while a secret smile played at the edges of his mouth. The dark scruff made him look sexy and dangerous, and my stomach twisted. Jesus, he was pretty. I hated that he’d lied to me, but there was nothing fake about this photo. The warmth in his eyes, the smile on his lips . . . it was real.
And there were no bruises on his cheek.
It hardened my resolve to get him out of this place. I wasn’t naive—he wasn’t an innocent man. No doubt he deserved to be in prison for some of the things he’d done. But the world was full of awful people who never faced consequences for their actions, men whose money and power sheltered them from repercussions.
Why should one man be made to suffer when millions more didn’t?
It was like income tax. A large number of people got away with hardly paying, while the rest of us gave away so much. How on earth was that fair?
You’re rationalizing because you love him.
I shoved those thoughts aside and scrolled through more photos. The wait dragged on so long that I put my phone down, concerned for my battery. I walked around, examined the room. I didn’t see a camera, but I would bet anything there was one somewhere. I checked the time again.
Finally, the door opened. A man entered, his expression flat and unhappy. “Signorina.” Then he spoke a stream of rapid Italian that sounded angry.
I put up my palms. “Do you speak English?”
“Of course. Do you?”
Ah. Now his attitude made sense.
He didn’t believe me.
“Signore Palmieri?” When he nodded once, I continued. “I am Valentina Montella from New York. My father is Flavio Segreto. I believe you are looking for him.”
He yanked out the chair on the opposite side of the table and sat down. His tie had been loosened, the first button on his dress shirt undone. It added to his general air of aggravation. “Benetti has told you, I see.”
“Luca didn’t tell me. My father did.”
Palmieri’s demeanor changed, his gaze sharpening on mine. “So you are in regular contact with him.”
“Not really. Flavio stays away to protect me. However, we did speak about your daughter.” Palmieri went deathly still, but I had to get the rest out. He had to be told. “He did not kill her.”
“Perdonami, signorina. But the evidence suggests otherwise.”
“Evidence provided by whom? Because someone is lying to you. Don’t you want to know why?”
“And what evidence do you have that your father is innocent?”
I drew in a deep breath. “At the time your daughter was killed, my mother was dying of cancer. Without my knowledge, my father was looking after her as she grew sicker and sicker. He loved her. There is no way he would’ve accepted a job that sent him away from her during that time.”
“You can’t be sure of that.”
“I am one-hundred percent sure. I believe him. And you can look at his passport and her death certificate. He didn’t leave New York. Someone else killed your daughter.”
His fingertips drummed on the wooden table as he examined my face. Intently, as if searching for weaknesses. The approach was intimidating, and I suspected many criminals had confessed because of it. I tried to remain calm. I had the truth on my side.
“And did your father have a guess as to who might be responsible?”
“I’ll tell you, but I want your word that you’ll release Signore Benetti. ”
He laughed, but it was a dry and humorless sound. “Never would I agree to something so foolish.”
“Then I won’t tell you what my father said.”
“You are in a prison in a strange country. Do you honestly believe you have any leverage at the moment?”
“Yes, I do. You want something from me and I want something from you.”
“You are very sure of yourself.” He leaned back, his jacket falling slightly open to reveal the pistol he wore. “Maybe I will keep you here, force your father to come and speak with me in person.”
My mouth dried out at the threat, so I licked my lips. “It won’t do any good. He won’t come—and besides, he’s not responsible for your daughter’s death. You’re wasting your time pursuing him for it.”
The air in the room turned oppressive as the seconds dragged on, Palmieri’s stare like black orbs of resentment. “You are asking for one of the country’s most dangerous criminals to be released. Do you know how long we’ve tried to arrest Benetti?”
“You haven’t charged him with a crime, though, which makes me think you know you can’t. You don’t have a charge that will stick.”
“Maybe our legal system works differently here than in your country.”
“It doesn’t, not when it comes to due process. I looked it up.”
“Maybe I will arrest you for interfering in an investigation, and you may learn our procedures yourself.”
I threw up my hands in frustration. “Stop threatening me. If you want to find out what I know, then promise to release Luca.”
Palmieri smoothed his mustache carefully. “If you tell me what I wish to hear, I will allow Signore Benetti’s lawyers to be brought in today.”
This seemed like a good compromise. “I have your word?”
“Sì, signorina. I'll give you my word.”
“Flavio believes someone named Rossi is responsible for your daughter’s death and he’s trying to make my father the scapegoat for it. ”
“If that’s true, then why target a man who hasn’t lived in this country for almost a decade? Why not choose someone else, someone more convenient?”
“Rossi has been searching for my father since he left. My father knew Rossi was stealing from the mafia and made the mistake of trying to use the information to gain his freedom.”
“Rossi is a common name here. You have no other information?”
“Investigating men in this country is your job, not mine. I’m sure there is a man by that name here who is already on your radar.”
Palmieri stared at the wall, unmoving. I wondered what he was thinking, if he knew this man named Rossi and had been watching him. I hoped so, because I didn’t want him backing out on our deal. I needed Luca released.
The man across from me stood and straightened his tie. “Unless there is more, you are free to go.”
I rose and clasped my hands. “Don’t forget your promise to let Luca’s lawyers get him out today.”
“I never promised to release Benetti today. But I did agree to let his lawyers in to visit.”
“Good. Then it’s only a matter of time until he’s freed.”
“Don’t be so sure, signorina.” Now at the door, Palmieri paused. “He had the chance to stop it, capisce? I asked him to turn you over or face arrest. Can you guess which option he chose?”
My mouth parted on a shocked breath. What on earth? Luca had allowed them to arrest him rather than turn me over?
We weren’t dating or sleeping together any longer. Why not save himself from prison by letting Palmieri interview me? This made no sense.
I swear to protect you from the blood and crime.
Palmieri held the door open, regaining my attention. “Come. I’ll walk you to the front.”
“Grazie,” I said and went by him into the hallway.
We began walking together, my shoes rapping loudly on the worn tile. “Your Italian needs work,” he said. “But I suppose you will have plenty of time to perfect it here, no?”
Did he mean now, as I waited for Luca’s release? “Not sure how much I can learn in a few days, but we’ll see.”
“A few days?” He made a dismissive sound in his throat. “Signorina, if you think Benetti will ever let you return to New York, you are fooling yourself. This life, his life, swallows women whole.”
I had no response. He was wrong. I wasn’t staying here, no matter what Luca wanted. We were through.
He stopped at the exit door and snapped at the men to open up. A buzzer sounded and Palmieri pushed it open. “Arrivederci, Signorina Montella.”
I started to leave, then paused. “My deepest sympathies on the loss of your daughter, signore.”
He didn’t react, so I hurried out, hoping I’d done enough.
“My uncles are losing their minds.”
I closed the car door and reached for the seat belt. “Why?”
“Luca called them and was very, very angry.” Gabi checked the mirrors and pulled into traffic away from the prison. “They want us in Catanzaro right away.”
“Are you in trouble for bringing me here?”
“I think we are both in trouble, Val.”
I was worried for Gabi, but not for me. “I don’t care. We did the right thing by coming.”
“How did it go? Did you talk sense into my father?”
“No. He acted very strangely. Like he didn’t know me. Like I was just some girl he hooked up with in New York. But when he could, he whispered that it was dangerous for me to be here.”
“But you said we did the right thing.”
“We did. I met with Palmieri. That was what took so long. ”
Gabi’s mouth fell open. “Che cazzo? You talked to the GDF? Do you know how bad that is?”
“I don’t care.” I reached into my purse and dug out a granola bar. My nerves had been too frayed to eat earlier and I was starving. “If telling Palmieri what I know could get Luca released, then I’ll gladly do it. I’m not bound by any weird code about talking to the police.”
“Mamma mia, no wonder my uncles are upset.”
We didn’t talk much from then on. Gabi sped along the Italian freeways as we headed south. We stopped a few times for restrooms and snacks, but otherwise kept driving toward Luca’s family. I tried not to worry. I hadn’t done anything wrong.
Finally, we turned off the main road and drove up into the hills. It was pretty scenery, with rolling peaks and valleys, old farmhouses. The sun was shining and sheep grazed out in the fields. “So this is what the Italian countryside looks like. It’s very quaint.”
“Boring,” Gabi said. “My father also has a house in town, as does my mother, but this is where Leo and I live. It’s safer for us out here.”
“Was it hard growing up away from your mother?”
“I see her all the time, so no. My father makes sure Leo and I stay close to our mothers.”
“Did you ever want your father to marry her?” Gabi paused, and I hurried to say, “I’m sorry if that’s too personal. It just reminds me of something Palmieri said.”
“What did he say?”
“That this life swallows women whole.”
Gabi tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “You don’t need to worry about that, Val.”
“I know, because I’m not staying. But it’s weird. Like, Luca never married and there aren’t any women around. No sisters, no aunts. Your life is completely surrounded by men.”
He gave me a lazy lopsided grin that reminded me of his father. “Not completely surrounded.”
“Okay, we get it. You get laid a lot. Be serious. Why do you all hate women so much? ”
“We don’t hate women. Our housekeeper is a woman.”
“Not really helping your case, Gabi.”
His hands gripped the steering wheel. “I don’t know why. I suppose we are trying to protect them.”
“Diminishing the role of women isn’t protecting them. It’s smothering them. We want to participate, be equals, not be shoved aside.”
“Women are at risk here. You’re not as str?—”
“If you say not as strong, I’m going to kick you in the junk.”
Gabi shifted uncomfortably in his seat, like he was thinking about the damage I could do to his testicles. “It’s getting better. There are more women running ’ndrine now. More wives running things when their husbands are imprisoned.”
“But not with yours.”
“Ma dai, Val! What do you want from me? I’m just the second son. Take it up with my father.”
No, thanks. Staying in Catanzaro wasn’t in the cards and I had my own battles back home. I needed to return to New York as soon as possible.
We drove in silence. The roads grew narrower as we climbed higher. He turned off onto an unmarked drive and kept going. It was like a maze. I’d never find my way here even with a map.
A black iron gate stretched across the road, connected to a similar fence that looked like it went on for miles. Gabi punched a few buttons on the keypad and the metal slowly swung open. As we drove through, he waved to some men gathered by the side of a small house. Guards, no doubt.
A sprawling stone villa soon came into view. Comprising three different levels, the house was built directly into the hill, almost an extension of the surrounding rock. Green plants and trees surrounded the perimeter and paths, lined the edge of the roof. Vining flowers adorned the front, while a fountain sat proudly in the middle of the circular drive. There were some smaller matching buildings off to the side, as well, but I couldn’t look away from the cleverly designed massive structure .
This was no mobster’s hideout. It was a super-luxurious estate worthy of a movie star.
“Wow,” I breathed. “This is where you live?”
“Wait until you see the inside.” He parked by a stone fountain and we got out. “Come on. They will want to yell at me right away.”
“What about me?”
“They won’t yell at you.” He tossed his baseball hat into the back seat of the car, then ruffled his hair. “My father would skin them alive if they dared.”
The words were said with absolute seriousness. It was a stark reminder of what had paid for this home—blood and crime. I couldn’t forget it.
He led me higher along the path until we reached a door. Punching some numbers on a keypad, he said, “This is my father’s office.”
Before I could think about what I was going to say, we were inside. The room was spacious, softly lit. Modern and clean, with big abstract paintings on the walls. Classy, for a man who understood money but didn’t need to show it off.
The Benetti brothers, along with another man I didn’t recognize, were on their feet waiting for us. None of them looked happy.
Sergio launched into Gabi immediately, his Italian furious and fast. Gabi didn’t try to speak, just stood silent, hands behind his back, and let his uncle rant at him. I couldn’t take it any longer. “Stop,” I told Sergio. “I’m the one you’re upset with. Don’t take it out on Gabi.”
Luca’s brother pressed his palms together and rested his fingertips on his lips. He seemed to be taking deep breaths. “Signorina, I’m trying to be respectful. But what you did today was very dangerous. You have put many things at risk, including my brother’s life.”
I couldn’t see how this was true. “I had to speak to Palmieri. He has the power to release Luca and I thought using information regarding my father would help. ”
“You are playing in waters that are treacherous, signorina. There are things you don’t understand.”
“Then tell me.”
His lip curled, like he was offended I’d dared to ask. “Those are family matters. I can’t share them with anyone outside the family.”
I gestured to the young man beside me. “Or Gabi, it seems.”
Sergio’s gaze flicked to his nephew before returning to me. “Luca decides what his sons know, and it’s not your place to interfere.”
“My place ?” I gave a derisive laugh. “Yeah, I know all about my place in your world. Have babies and keep quiet. Right, Sergio? Well, that may work here, but it doesn’t fly in New York. We aren’t quiet, demure women afraid to speak up. Palmieri wanted my father, but for the wrong reasons. I explained the truth to him, and he agreed to let Luca’s lawyers in. You’re welcome, by the way. So untwist your panties and stop having a mantrum!”
No one said a word. Sergio appeared both angry and surprised, his brow wrinkled and jaw stiff, but I was done explaining myself.
I angled toward Gabi. “I would really like to see the rest of the house now, specifically a bedroom with a soft bed.”
Gabi blinked a few times, but nodded. “Follow me.”