Chapter Twenty-Five
Chantilly
I didn’t say a word, I was still reeling from Carlo expecting me to rat on the people I’d once considered family. Despite the fact I’d hated Sean, I didn’t hate every other member of the extended Irish mafia family. Although some of Sean’s men had frightened me, there had been as many who’d shown me compassion, even friendship.
I was lost in thought as Valentino escorted me to the table. He pulled out a chair and I sank into it before he took the one next to me. Sabrina chose the other seat near me, and I smiled at her as her husband—the don—pulled it out for her. I felt reasonably safe sandwiched between Valentino and Sabrina.
I almost snorted. Since when had I felt safe with the man who’d planned to kill me? As for Sabrina, she was the don’s wife, she might be as bloodthirsty as her husband.
The waiter unloaded the trolley into the center of the table. I recognized most of the dishes. Gnocchi, spaghetti, carbonara, pizza margherita, risotto, lasagna and ravioli. It was an Italian feast.
The men with a partner each reached for a dish, then served up a portion for the women next to them and themselves before they passed the dish along. Valentino did the same for me and I ended up with a small portion of every dish.
A pity I was too tense to eat.
Except once I took a bite I couldn’t seem to stop. The rich, earthy flavors exploded in my mouth, making me want to devour what I had in front of me.
Sabrina giggled and looked at Valentino. “Haven’t you been feeding her?”
He put his fork down onto his plate. “She might have been my hostage, but I didn’t mistreat her.”
“Might have been?” I asked him, my heart suddenly hammering. “Does that mean I’m free now?”
Sabrina blinked at me. “Do you want to leave?”
“I’d just like the choice to decide for myself,” I said softly, my words guarded, cautious. I couldn’t offend these people. I valued my life.
Sabrina turned to her husband with a smirk. “Does that bring back any memories?”
“Yes!” Isabella piped up from across the table. She pushed an errant strand of dark hair behind her ear. “Having a normal relationship doesn’t seem to be a thing for any of us. Lucky we fell in love with our captors.”
I stared at the two women, gobsmacked by the news. “You were both kidnapped?”
Isabella nodded slowly, though a small smile curled her lush lips. “We were.” She glanced at Salvatore next to her. “Our husbands aren’t known for their…patience.”
Sabrina looked back at me. “It was only lucky we didn’t cause a worse turf war between the Costas and the Agostinos, not just for the kidnappings, but for falling in love with someone from rival families.”
“I had no idea,” I said faintly. I might have lived with the Irish mafia but I’d learned nothing about any kidnappings.
Carlo leaned forward, his dark eyes sharp behind his bushy brows. “Didn’t Sean tell you anything about us?”
I shook my head. “Very little. I mean, I overheard bits and pieces, but I wasn’t ever told anything, not unless Sean hoped to frighten me.” I glanced at Ethan. “He told me you’d killed your own father for a woman…Sabrina. I had no idea you’d kidnapped her though.”
He shrugged. “I have no regrets.” He turned to Sabrina and added softly. “Not. One.”
She nodded, then said huskily. “I know.”
Salvatore took Isabella’s hand and lifted it to kiss her knuckles, his voice somber and his icy-blue eyes softening like clouds when he captured his wife’s gaze. “Neither do I.”
The dark-haired beauty smiled tenderly up at him. “I guess revenge really is sweet.”
My chest suddenly burned, my throat tightening. How must it feel to be loved so unreservedly by a man like that? All the males here reminded me of Valentino. Each and every one of them were tough sons-of-bitches who knew how to survive in a world that was too often cold and unforgiving. That they were handsome to boot was nothing more than a lucky coincidence.
I winced. Perhaps I’d exclude Carlo from the handsome category, though I had no doubt he’d been a looker in his youth, he was certainly charismatic. That he was here alone meant he likely brought whores or a mistress to mafia parties that were less refined than this one.
I’d attended enough of those kinds of celebrations to know what went on. That I’d often been forced to do things to Sean at them even now turned my stomach. But it’d been better to comply than be taught a harsh lesson. I’d learned that the hard way.
“Let’s eat,” Serafino announced. “My chef will be distraught if we don’t polish everything off our plates.”
I smiled. Why did I sense that was a lot of words from him? He really did seem like the silent and deadly type. My smile withered. He’d be someone who’d approach his unsuspecting target from behind, then snap the neck of his victim before their death had even registered in their brain.
Everyone began eating again. I soon got my appetite back, eating with gusto just like everyone else. I had, after all, long ago acclimatized myself to criminals. I’d had to just to survive. It wasn’t until I put my fork down that Valentino held up a bottle of Chianti and I nodded yes, watching as he poured the red wine into my glass.
He poured himself one too and brought the glass up to his nose to sniff the liquid appreciatively. “This one has the perfect cherry and spice bouquet.”
Everyone else along the table accepted Chianti, except Sabrina and Serafino. Sabrina asked for water while Serafino accepted a glass of whiskey from the waiter, who seemed to know his preferred taste in drink.
“You’re not a wine drinker?” I asked Sabrina.
She smiled. “I love the stuff.” She patted her stomach. “But I can’t say the same for the baby inside of me.”
“You’re pregnant!” I gasped.She couldn’t be too far along; I barely noticed the tiny bump under her dress. I touched her shoulder and squeezed, then added warmly, “Congratulations.”
Her smile widened, her eyes sparkling. “Thank you. We can’t wait to be parents.”
Ethan put his hand on her knee and kept it there while he continued eating. He didn’t need to voice his happiness, it was written all over his face and in the tender gestures he showed his wife.
His affection toward Sabrina almost undone me.
How had such violent criminals turned so soft for their women? I hadn’t witnessed that kind of devotion from any of the men in the Irish mafia. Most had beaten up their wives for the smallest transgression. That Sean had encouraged them to ‘keep their women in check’ had only exacerbated their savagery.
“Are you all right?” Valentino asked.
I nodded, though I had to force a bright smile his way. “Of course.”
I fiddled with my fork, but I couldn’t eat even one more mouthful. I was impressed that Sabrina and Isabella ate all of theirs.
“Tiramisu anyone?” Serafino asked.
“Yes, please,” Isabella said. “As long as it comes with coffee.”
“Obviously,” her brother said with a small smile.
Serafino really was a man of few words.
Carlo leaned back in his chair, the striped shirt beneath his jacket straining across his belly, his congenial mood long gone as he glanced around the table. “Is anyone going to ask why Valentino went against a direct order?” A hush fell around the table before he continued, “Because no one, absolutely no one defies our don.”
Sabrina bristled. “Chantilly isn’t a threat.”
Ethan continued eating in a slower, more methodical motion. I had no doubt his mind was laser sharp and focused.
Isabella sucked in a breath. “Why would anyone want Valentino to have the blood of an innocent woman on his hands?”
Carlo glowered. “It wouldn’t be the first time. The only reason this woman is still alive is thanks to her looks. Valentino was thinking with his dick.”
Valentino said nothing, though I sensed the anger brewing inside of him.
“Enough.” Ethan put down his cutlery and stared at his consigliere. “This is a family meal; I do not want it spoiled by conjecture or hostility.” He turned to look at me, his expression softening a little. “Now that Sean is dead you’re safe here, Chantilly.”
Carlo’s nostrils flared, his outrage overtaking common sense. “By killing Sean a war is now inevitable. I would have advised against such madness!”
Bang. Bang.
Isabella screamed and I followed her stare. The soldiers who’d stood guard outside were now crumpled on the balcony floor with blood pooling around their bodies. One of them was clearly dead, the other groaning and reaching helplessly for his gun.
Valentino was already on his feet, his revolver drawn and his eyes hard. “Get under the table and stay down,” he growled at me. Ethan and Salvatore commanded their wives to do the same before all the men raced toward the balcony and took position before returning fire.
It was too late. Tires squealed as the perpetrators burned rubber getting away. I had no doubt the Irish mafia had paid their rivals a visit. The timing couldn’t have been worse.
I was numb, in self-protection mode by the time Valentino checked for anymore threats before he reholstered his gun. Bending low, he checked the pulse of each of the soldiers. “They’re both gone,” he said in a detached voice.
Carlo reholstered his gun. “Two good men dead because you listened to your dick.”
Valentino stiffened, his mask slipping as he stepped toward the other man. “This war was inevitable, and you know it.”
“All I know is you fucked up and the rest of us are paying for it.”
I got out from under the table and stepped out onto the balcony, rubbing at my goose-pimpled arms as I averted my eyes from the soldiers lying lifeless on the floor. I distantly noticed the diners spilling out of the Italian restaurant below us as they ran for their lives.
They clearly had no idea they were now safe.
I focused on the consigliere. “I know you don’t like me, and that’s fine, the feeling is mutual. But don’t take it out on Valentino. I can only imagine what he’s sacrificed to become this family’s enforcer.”
“A lot,” Ethan said with a nod.
Carlo glowered but didn’t say another word, and everyone seemed to know the topic was no longer up for discussion.
There were far more pressing matters to resolve.
While Ethan, Evander and Carlo fetched gloves, chemicals and rags to eradicate the bloodstains on the patio, Serafino and Alessandro hurried inside before they each returned with a large roll of plastic.
After unrolling the plastic and doubling it back over, they each placed a body on one side, then turned the soldiers over along with the plastic, continuing until the two bodies were completely wrapped up.
I was seasoned when it came to mafia dealings, but I still shuddered knowing plastic was kept on hand for scenarios just like this one.
The two soldiers stationed near the elevators helped carry the wrapped bodies into a small room tucked into a corner. I looked at Valentino and he drew me close and murmured, “There is a large chute in the laundry room that goes into a bin on the ground floor. The bodies will be taken away before the authorities even get here.”
I nodded and he reluctantly let me go to pull on gloves. It was obvious he was about to help clean up the blood. Until Ethan approached and said quietly, “I think it’d be best if you left now.” His eyes darkened. “Our safety is already compromised without you being here with Chantilly.”
Sabrina and Isabella stood in the corner of the room. They were a united front as they held hands, their faces pallid as they looked on with wide eyes. I blinked back sudden tears. I’d enjoyed the glimmer of friendship with these women while it’d lasted, but I had no doubt they already blamed me for the deaths of their soldiers, men who they had probably considered family.
I was the stranger who’d brought chilling shadows to their doorstep.
Valentino reached for my hand and squeezed it before he nodded reluctantly at his don. “You won’t see me again until I hear from you.”