Chapter 25
KARINA
“Karina!”
Armani yells my name down the hallway. The sound razors down my spine. I freeze.
I just left the dining room, where I’d eaten the light lunch Alain prepared for me, and was about to go get ready to head to the track. Marco is long gone, of course. I’ve been sick with nerves ever since I woke up this morning to find his side of the bed cold and empty.
The race starts in two hours. I’m already exhausted. Emotionally more than physically.
Taking a steadying breath, I turn around to face my brother-in-law. His eyes are murderous. Oh, God. He knows.
Holding his cell up, Armani says, “I just got off the phone with Leonardo Candreva, a former associate of my father’s. He had some very fucking interesting news to pass along regarding my brother’s race this afternoon.”
There’s nothing I can do but stand here, trying to not cower in fear.
“Did you know about this?” he rails. “Did you?”
“He told me yesterday afternoon,” I say quietly, hoping this conversation won’t go far.
I’m nervous about what my uncle might hear through the microphone in my ring, even though I’m sure he’s talked to Pietro already and is aware—at the very least—of the bet that Marco made with Pietro.
But that doesn’t mean my uncle knows about Marco’s bets with the other mob families.
Not that Uncle Sergio can do anything about them. What’s done is done.
Armani clenches his jaw and shakes his head. “You’ve known for twenty-four fucking hours and you didn’t say a word to anyone?”
Pulling myself up to my full height, I fold my arms over my chest. Yes, I understand that Armani has the self-imposed job of looking over this family and that it’s a responsibility he takes very seriously. But I am not the person he should be angry with.
“This is between Marco and you and Dante,” I tell him. “I’m not getting involved.”
“You’re a Bellanti now,” he shoots back. “Of course you’re involved. This is between all of us. Do you understand the devastation he could cause to our family? We could be ruined.”
I lift my chin. “Marco won’t lose.”
“Is that what he told you?” He laughs harshly and then lets out a slow, measured breath. “Meet me at the car in twenty minutes. Let’s find out if you’re right.”
With that, he storms off.
Shaken, I hurriedly change into jeans, a T-shirt, and boots. Usually I like to get fancy for race days, but I feel no air of excitement today. On my way out the door, I grab a pair of oversized sunglasses and pop them on, pretending they can somehow help me hide from reality.
By the time I get to the car, Frankie is already sitting in the back seat and Dante and Armani are talking quietly near the driver’s side door, their body language screaming tension. Dante hears my footsteps and turns to open the rear door for me.
“Um, thanks,” I say.
His face is expressionless, and he says nothing back to me as I slip into the car. Frankie quickly takes my hand and gives it a squeeze before letting go and looking out her window.
It’s a silent, nerve-wracking drive to the track. We’ve barely even parked in the VIP lot before Armani jumps out of the car and beelines to the private garage. Dante follows. When Frankie and I finally catch up, we can hear Armani’s shouts from outside the door.
Marco’s crew disperses from the garage in a rush as Frankie and I enter. Dante stands in the corner with his hands in his pockets. His face is stone cold, and I get the impression he’s waiting until Armani is done yelling to take his own turn berating Marco.
“You’re a fucking idiot! Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Armani says.
My husband faces his brother silently, but I can tell by the way Marco’s jaw is clenched that he’s itching to fight back.
He’s already in his racing suit, and it hits home how close the start of the race is.
As Armani continues to rain down insults on Marco, I feel my heart start beating even faster.
I want to step in and defend my husband, but I need to get out of here—let this play out between the brothers.
The less my uncle hears from the microphone in my ring, the better.
As I lean against the wall outside the garage, I can still hear the Bellantis fighting a bit, but it’s hard to make out their words.
I know my ring won’t transmit much that’s discernible beyond random cuss words.
Which is just as well. The last thing we need is for Uncle Sergio to find out about Marco’s arrangement with the other mob families.
Because I know my uncle, and I know exactly how he’d react—first he’d outwardly declare that there’s no way Marco will win the race, then he’d turn around and secretly make plans to skip town if Marco does win…
with the intention of disappearing before the Bellantis and their allies can go after my uncle and the rest of the Bruno clan.
“I know what’s at stake!” Marco yells, loud enough for me to hear clearly. I take a few steps farther away from the open door, straining my ears to catch the rest of what he’s saying. “And you haven’t even…the positives. Alliances…an army…the Brunos.”
The few audible snatches of conversation definitely aren’t enough to tip off my uncle, but because I’m in on the whole thing, I know exactly what Marco is telling his brothers right now—that with his big gamble, he’s pulled together a group of mafia allies that are going to be more than happy to join the Bellantis in destroying the Brunos once and for all, assuming that Marco actually wins this race today.
I edge a little closer, just as Armani starts yelling again.
“This is the stupidest thing you’ve ever done, Marco! Which is saying a lot.”
“Actually…it was pretty smart,” Dante cuts in.
Whether he thinks Marco made a bad choice or not, it’s obvious that Dante, the Bellanti patriarch, understands what his youngest brother is attempting to do. He’s realized that if Marco wins, the Brunos will never touch the Bellantis again.
Just then, Frankie steps out of the garage, spots me, and comes over to my side, pulling me into a quick hug.
“I know it sounds like World War Three in there, but it’ll be fine.
They just fight like this sometimes.” She leans back and lowers her voice conspiratorially.
“It’s that alpha male thing, you know? But times ten with them, thanks to the whole mob element.
This is what happens when you marry into a hot-headed Italian family. ”
I force a smile. “I’ll bet.”
“We could lose everything!” Armani yells again, his voice loud and clear from inside the garage. “And then what?”
Frankie winces. “Do you want to go get a lemonade or something?”
“I—”
“I’m not going to lose!” Marco yells back, cutting off my reply to Frankie.
Armani lets out a sound that’s part shout, part growl. It echoes off the garage walls. The hair on my forearms stands up, and then he storms out of the garage, slamming the door behind him before stalking away.
“That lemonade is sounding pretty good, actually,” I tell Frankie.
But before we can go, the garage door opens again and I see Dante strolling toward us.
He clears his throat and says to me and Frankie, “Sorry about that. Should we go find our seats?”
“You two go ahead,” I say. “I need to talk to Marco for a second.”
They leave, and I head into the garage. Marco slouches against a wall, his face an angry scowl. I approach him, but he doesn’t look up at me. A few taut moments pulse between us. I don’t know what to say to make any of this better.
“Marco?” I finally say softly. “You okay?”
“Just go,” he says. “Get settled with the others. I need a few minutes alone.”
I nod. “Okay. Sure.” I turn to leave.
“Karina, wait,” he calls out more gently. “Come here.”
He pulls me in for a kiss, sending a shock of warmth all the way down to my toes.
“I love you,” he says, looking down into my eyes, worry still etched on his face.
“I love you,” I tell him. “You’re going to be amazing. You got this. See you after.”
He nods, and I head out of the garage and toward the stands. I don’t let the dismissal wound me. I know Marco needs to get centered and collect himself before he goes into this race. His brothers certainly didn’t help him mentally prepare for it.
Then again, how could they, given what Marco has done behind their backs? The stakes couldn’t be any higher. This situation is a mess for everyone.
When I reach the Bellantis’ private box, I find Frankie and Dante literally on the edge of their seats, gripping each other’s hands as they stare down at the track. I spot two lemonades sitting in the cupholders for Frankie and me. Armani is nowhere to be seen.
As I make my way over to take my place beside Frankie, I notice a small gift box perched on my seat, wrapped in yellow paper and tied with a gold ribbon.
“What is that?” Frankie asks, glancing over as I pick up the box and inspect it for a tag.
“I don’t know.”
At first, I’d assumed it was from Marco, but it’s weird that there’s no identifying information on it.
Although, who else would leave me a present right before the race?
Dread hits my gut as I realize this could be another warning message from my uncle.
But then the cars start lining up in their positions on the track and I forget all about the gift.
I drop into my seat, heart in my throat, and seek out Marco.
My stomach twists as I realize Pietro’s car is right next to my husband’s, and my mind instantly flashes on the all-too-vivid memory of Marco’s car bursting into flames.
Oh, God. I’m not sure I can go through this again. What if something goes wrong?
What if he gets hurt again…or worse?
Trying to banish my anxiety, I gulp down half my lemonade, letting out a sigh as the icy cold drink refreshes me.
As I’m thanking Frankie for it, the door to the private box opens behind us, and I whip a glance over my shoulder to find Armani there.
He crosses his arms and leans against the wall, apparently intending to glare at Marco’s car for the duration of the race.