Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
~NADIA~
“ T hat’s your grandmother’s house?”
Carmine cuts the car’s engine, and we sit in silence, staring at the enormous brownstone home just outside of Seattle, still perfectly manicured and maintained.
“It is.” He sighs and then turns to me. “My brothers, Elena, and I practically grew up here. Especially in the summers. The house sits on roughly twenty acres of land. More than sixty years ago, when my grandfather bought the property, he got it for a steal.”
I raise a brow, and he laughs.
“No, he didn’t steal it. But he got a great deal on it. Today, it’s worth well into the eight figures.”
“I bet someone would love to buy it, divvy up the land into smaller parcels, build, and sell. Make it a nice little neighborhood near the water.”
“I’m sure they would. And they’d make a good deal of money off it. But that’s not going to happen.”
“So, you’re just hanging onto it for what? Sentimental value?” I shake my head and get out of the car. “Carmine, this property is prime real estate to make your family money.”
“We have plenty of money,” he reminds me. “And we’re making more every day. Now, let’s go find Rocco and see what’s going on.”
He slips his hand into mine and leads me through an arched, double door entrance and into a grand foyer with a split staircase.
It’s a stunningly beautiful home. And it suits what I know of Carmine’s grandmother, the matriarch of their mafioso family.
“He’s probably in the kitchen,” Carmine says and leads me through rooms full of old furniture, artwork, and windows that offer a view of the water.
“I see why you have a thing for beautiful views.”
He smiles. “I learned from her.”
We walk past a dining room and into the kitchen, where sure enough, Rafe leans on the counter, tapping keys on his laptop as he munches on a sandwich.
“Hey,” he says and looks up at us. “Jesus, you look like shit. Aren’t you supposed to come home from vacation looking all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed?”
“What the fuck does that even mean?” Carmine asks with a laugh. “We came straight here from the airport.”
“Ah. Jet lag. So, I hear you had some fun being tailed over there.”
“You heard right,” I reply and open the fridge, starving. “You have cream cheese. Do you have bagels?”
“Sure. Here you go.”
He opens a cupboard, and I have my pick of everything, cheese, or plain.
I always go for the cheese.
“Want one?” I ask Carmine.
“Sure. I’ll do it. You’re exhausted. Here.” He takes over, and I point to the cheese, then settle back to chat with Rafe.
“And you had a break-in here,” I reply, to which Rafe nods.
“Yeah. Fucker got inside by breaking one of the big picture windows in the library. I had them repaired yesterday.”
“But not with the original glass,” Carmine says with frustration.
“No,” Rafe agrees, then turns to me to explain. “Ninety percent of the glass in this house is original. It was built in 1909. Gram was particularly fond of the glass.”
“I’m sorry. That sucks. What did they take?”
“As far as we can tell, nothing.” He blows out a disgusted breath and paces the kitchen. “I’ve been through every room. Aside from the window, nothing was moved. It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Unless they were looking for something or someone who wasn’t here,” Carmine replies as he sets a plate full of bagel goodness in front of me and then sits next to me with a plate of his own.
“I thought of that,” Rafe says. “Since it’s not been a secret that the house has been empty, I’d say it was some thing they were looking for.”
“If it was a run-of-the-mill thief,” I say, licking cream cheese off my finger. “He could have been looking for jewelry, artwork, antiques. But I saw a lot of priceless art and antiques on our way through when we arrived.”
“And nothing is missing,” Rafe says. “Father took all of the jewelry and any money Gram had lying around here home with him a few days after she died.”
“So, someone broke in and was disappointed at the lack of loot,” Carmine says with a shrug. “We’ll ramp up the security, especially if you don’t want to keep living out here.”
“I don’t really mind it,” Rafe says, thinking it over. “It’s just so damn far out of the city. By the way, I checked your house the other day. Nothing’s going on there.”
“We’ll head over after we finish here,” Carmine says. “But thanks for checking. I have around-the-clock security.”
I finish my bagel and sigh in happiness. “Thanks for the carbs.”
“You’re welcome. Have you heard from Annika?”
I wondered if he’d bring up my cousin. Part of me wanted him to so I could drill him.
But the man standing across from me just looks…miserable.
“Yeah, we text just about every day.”
“How is she?”
I tip my head to the side. “Why don’t you ask her?”
“I have. She doesn’t fucking reply.” He drags his hands over his face in agitation. “She’s cut me out entirely, and it’s more frustrating than I can tell you.”
“She’s getting by,” is all I say, but when he just stares at me, I continue, carefully choosing my words. “She feels foolish. And she’s mad.”
Rafe nods, and Carmine reaches over to squeeze my hand.
“If you talk to her, just tell her to text me back.”
I laugh and then shrug when Rafe sends me a look that’s likely made plenty of men piss their pants.
“I’ll mention it. But Annika is her own woman, Rafe. And she wants nothing to do with the mafia. She’s never made that a secret.”
“I can’t be held responsible for the family I was born into.” The frustration rolls over his face as he shakes his head. “And neither can she. She has to stop punishing us both for it.”
“Is that what she’s doing?” I wonder. “Or is she simply trying to live a simple life?”
“She’s stubborn as hell, that’s what she is,” Rafe says.
“On that, we can agree. I’ll pass along your message.” I turn to Carmine, who’s remained quiet as he listened to the exchange between Rafe and me. “What time are we meeting with our dads?”
He checks the time and then stands. “In a few hours.”
“You’re meeting with Pop and Igor?” Rafe asks with surprise.
“Yes. We need to talk about the men who followed us in France,” Carmine says. “And I want to do it in a secure place. Over the phone or internet won’t cut it. You’re welcome to join us. Is Shane still in Colorado?”
“I’m not sure where he is,” Rafe says. “He said something about a job in Colombia.”
I raise a brow. “What, exactly, does Shane do for a living?”
“That, we can’t tell you,” Carmine says but takes the sting out of the statement with a kiss to my head. “Let’s go home and freshen up for our meeting. Rocco, we’re meeting at three, at the downtown building.”
“In the office?” he asks.
Carmine nods and sets our dishes in the dishwasher, then leads me out of the kitchen and toward the front door.
I want to ask for a tour of the magnificent house, but I know that we don’t have time. And, at the end of the day, no matter how close Carmine and I have gotten, I’m still a member of the Tarenkov family. There will always be a line. And taking me on a tour of the Martinelli matriarch’s house might be crossing it.
We’re quiet in the car. So much so that I close my eyes and rest. Neither of us slept on the flight here. We even went and laid on the bed, snuggled up, but couldn’t doze off.
We didn’t talk, simply lay there. Restless. Uncertain.
Pissed off.
Someone’s still after us, and we don’t know who. Not to mention, I didn’t like leaving bodies behind in Europe. It was supposed to be a vacation. We weren’t supposed to have to kill anyone or constantly look over our shoulders.
Not that the looking behind you ever entirely goes away, even when you feel absolutely safe.
Because the truth is, being in the mafia means you’re never truly safe.
I open my eyes when Carmine stops the car and then frown.
“We’re not going to the penthouse?”
“No,” he says and turns to me. “I want you here. In my home.”
“I don’t understand.”
“When I first brought you to Seattle months ago, I didn’t want you here because I didn’t trust you. And I was with you for other reasons. It was all a farce. The penthouse was neutral territory, so to speak. But that’s all changed.”
He takes my hand and threads his fingers through mine.
“I want you here, in my house. Not the penthouse.”
“But all of my things?—”
“Have been moved here,” he finishes with a small smile. “Come on, let me show you.”
He hurries out of the car, then comes to the passenger side and opens my door.
“You were here once,” he says as he pulls me up out of the car and leads me to the door. “And I certainly didn’t trust you then, either. It irritated the hell out of me that you found me here.”
“Oh, that was certainly the point,” I reply with a laugh. “I wanted to frustrate you that day.”
“You succeeded. But today, I’m inviting you.”
“So, this is your home. And I see that it’s not far from your grandmother’s.”
“No.” He unlocks and pushes open the door and then leads me inside. “I loved spending time with her there. And I came to learn that I liked keeping my personal time separate from work. I like our building downtown, don’t get me wrong. But it’s not home.”
I take in the expansive living space with new eyes. The style is very different from the home we just left, but it’s no less opulent or beautiful.
“The kitchen is gorgeous,” I say as we walk through it. “I enjoyed going through your fridge while you fumed.”
He chuckles and leads me past, showing me guest rooms, a workout space, an office, and finally, his master bedroom.
It’s big, but he’s a big man, so it suits him. “More views,” I muse and walk to the door that leads out to a patio and a lush garden.
The master bathroom and drool-worthy walk-in closet are nothing less than what I’d expect of a man like Carmine, someone who definitely enjoys all of the finer things in life. It doesn’t escape me that all of my clothes and personal things are in the closet, hung neatly.
“You have a lovely home,” I say as he pulls me to him. My voice is sincere. It is lovely. “And it suits you.”
“Thank you.”
“You weren’t kidding. All of my things are in that sexy-as-fuck closet. My shampoo is even in the shower.”
“We won’t be living at the penthouse,” he confirms. “I hope that doesn’t upset you.”
Upset me? No. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little confused as to where this was going.
Then again, maybe I’m just overthinking things. It doesn’t have to go anywhere.
He kisses me, long and slow, as we stand in the middle of his bedroom. “We have time for a nap.”
I smile at the suggestion. “Do we have time for more than a nap?”
His brown eyes narrow with lusty mischief. “Oh, yeah. We can manage that.”
The drive into the city doesn’t take long. With an hour of sleep and a round of lazy sex behind us, I feel surprisingly rejuvenated.
And I’m excited to see my father.
I’ve been in constant contact with him since the incident at the casino in Cannes. He accepted Carlo’s invitation to meet in Seattle—much to my surprise and delight.
Carmine parks in the underground lot of his building. Rather than hitting the button for the penthouse in the elevator, he pushes the one for the tenth floor.
I raise a brow.
“This is the office.”
“Your father’s office?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “That’s on the twentieth floor. Don’t worry, you’ll see. It’s more comfortable. Less imposing.”
When we arrive at what used to be a condo but is now a beautiful office space, I see that he’s right.
Rather than a large desk where an authority figure might sit, there are sofas, tables, and workspaces throughout. Someone stocked the kitchen with everything a person could ever need or want.
The decorations, in muted colors, are perfect for making someone feel comfortable and at ease.
Less than a minute after we arrive, Carlo walks in with Rafe right behind him.
His face lifts into a smile as he shakes Carmine’s hand. “Welcome home, son. Hello, Nadia. You look lovely.”
“Thank you.”
“Of course, she does. She’s the spitting image of her mother,” my papa says from the doorway. “Hello, little one.”
“Papa!” I run over and kiss him on the cheek, then take his hand and lead him into the room. “I’m so happy to see you. Thank you for coming all this way.”
“For you, I would fly to the end of the world.” He cups my face and gives me a wink, then turns to Carlo and his sons. “Hello, my friend. Thank you for inviting me into your city.”
“Thank you for coming,” Carlo says as the two men shake hands. “My son made it clear that what he and Nadia have to tell us is very important.”
“It is,” I assure them both as we all take seats. I glance at Carmine, giving him a silent nod to go ahead.
“As you all know, Nadia and I were vacationing in Europe. A little holiday after discovering that Richard was responsible for killing Armando and several others. We thought the situation was settled with Rich’s death.”
He glances at me, and I pick up the story.
“However, while we were in Paris and strolling through a cemetery, we discovered we were being followed.”
I recount the incident with the man in the mausoleum and how we handled it.
Carlo laughs, much to my surprise.
“I apologize. I know it’s not a funny situation, but you hid the body in a crypt? That’s just priceless.”
My father chuckles with him, and I continue.
“A couple of days later, we moved on to Cannes, and within about forty-eight hours, we picked up on another tail. He was at the pool when we were there. At the same restaurants as ours. You get the idea.”
I glance at Carmine, and he continues.
“We devised a scheme to catch him. And we did. But this time, when we told him that Rich was dead and asked why he was following us, he said that Rich wasn’t the one who gave the orders. That it went much higher than that. ”
Papa and Carlo share a glance.
“Do you know what that means?” I ask.
“It means this goes deeper than we thought,” Papa says with a long sigh. “And someone tried to kill my daughter. Whoever is behind this will die.”
“Who was Rich working for?” Carlo wonders aloud.
“We’re going to fucking find out,” Rafe says.