Chapter 14
Isabella
Eating a meal after midnight was a bad idea. Drinking an entire bottle of wine with that meal was an even worse one. I only got a couple of hours’ sleep before indigestion woke me at four a.m. After that, I tossed and turned, worrying about Antonio, nursing the emotional wounds he inflicted on me, and allowing my imagination to run riot.
In the depths of the night, I convinced myself that Antonio and I were finished. I got it into my head he was going to hand me over to the Mancini family and let them get revenge for me killing Rico. As soon as I dismissed that idea, another dreadful thought popped up to torture me. It became a vicious cycle that made it impossible to relax.
When the clock hits seven, I decide to get up, since I’m obviously not going to get back to sleep. Rather than hitting the shower as I probably should, I use the bathroom and then quickly wash my face in the sink. I glimpse myself in the mirror and recoil in shock at the sight that greets me. I’m a total mess. My face is pale, making the dark circles beneath my eyes even more prominent. You’d think I hadn’t slept in a week. My hair is straggly, with half of it still up in a ponytail and the rest hanging loose and limp around my face. I tug the elastic out of my hair, wincing as it gets caught in the tangles.
I go to the closet and find a long, silky robe to put on over my cotton pajamas since the shorts only just cover my ass. Antonio wasn’t happy the last time I risked his men seeing me in my nightwear and I don’t know who else is in the house with me. He told me to behave so he may have ordered someone to stand guard outside the bedroom door and shadow my every move like he did when I was a pampered prisoner back at the beach house.
Tying the belt of the robe around my waist, I open the door. It’s almost disappointing that there isn’t some goon waiting in the corridor to trail after me as I make my way downstairs. I know I’m being silly. I don’t like being closely guarded. But somehow it feels as if Antonio is sending a message by not having someone watching my every move. It feels as if he no longer cares about me. I give myself a mental slap for that thought. What I should feel is happiness that he trusts me enough not to impose a guard on me.
I get to the bottom of the stairs and pad along to the kitchen, the dove gray carpet soft beneath my bare feet. I love how Antonio’s mother, Ava, has decorated this place to create a cozy haven for her family to get away from it all. The house is large and quite imposing from the outside. On the inside, it’s a warm and comfortable home, a contrast to the grandeur of her New York townhouse, which is designed to reflect the family’s wealth and power.
I’ve always imagined that if she didn’t marry a mob boss, Ava would have settled into a comfortable middle-class suburban life. She’d have made a beautiful home for her family and raised her children to be doctors or lawyers, ordinary professional people. But, like me, she had no choice in who she married. Now she has to worry about whether her children will be arrested or gunned down by their enemies. I guess that’s the future I have to look forward to if Antonio and I have a family. It’s something we both wanted when we first married but I have no idea if it will happen now. The gulf between us seems impossibly wide once more and I couldn’t bear to bring children into a failing marriage.
When I get to the kitchen, I find Janetta preparing breakfast. I smell bacon and she’s flipping pancakes at the stove. There’s also a delicious aroma coming from the waffle maker. Despite her seemingly cooking a dozen different dishes when there’s only me in the house, there’s very little mess in the kitchen. If it was me cooking, there would be mixing bowls and various utensils lying all over the place, I can rustle up some pretty tasty dishes, but I’m not great at cleaning up as I go along.
“Isabella.” Janetta greets me with a warm smile as I climb onto one of the stools at the breakfast bar. “Any news about Gio?”
I shake my head. “I was about to ask you if you’d heard anything.”
Janetta raises an eyebrow. “Antonio hasn’t been in touch?”
“No.”
“I’m sure he’s just caught up in things and no news is good news, right? He probably didn’t want to disturb your rest if there was nothing to report.”
Janetta’s rush to make excuses for Antonio does little to soothe my hurt. If he wanted to speak to me, he would, no matter what time of day it was. The look of sympathy on her face as my lip wobbles is hard to bear. Desperate to change the subject before I give in to the urge to cry, I make a show of sniffing the air.
“Something smells good.”
“I wasn’t sure what you’d want this morning, so I made a bit of everything.”
Guilt assails me. “You shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble. I’m not hungry.”
“What you don’t eat, the security team will soon polish off,” Janetta assures me, “but you must eat something.”
“Perhaps just some orange juice. I feel queasy.”
Her gaze drifts toward my abdomen, clearly wondering if I’m suffering from morning sickness. It strikes me then that I could be pregnant. Antonio and I haven’t been using birth control. When we married, we agreed to let nature take its course, and it didn’t occur to me to raise the subject of contraception when Antonio brought me back into his life. Even if I was pregnant, it would be too soon for morning sickness. I’m suffering for my late-night dinner and that’s all.
“You should eat something.” Janetta’s concern is touching. “How about a waffle and some fresh fruit?”
It’s impossible to say no as she’s already dishing up the food before I have a chance to refuse. She places a plate with a waffle, some fresh berries, and a drizzle of maple syrup in front of me. Initially, my stomach threatens to revolt, but when I take a bite of the warm, fluffy waffle, it settles. Janetta pours me some orange juice.
“Coffee?” she asks.
“Please.”
As she uses the fancy machine to make me a cappuccino, my favorite coffee in the morning, I eat my breakfast and try not to let somber thoughts drag me down. On top of my worry for Gio, I’m anxious about what’s going to happen between me and Antonio. I guess I shouldn’t tie myself up in knots over it. I’ve been shut out by my husband before and I survived it.
Janetta places my cappuccino in front of me. She studies my face and offers me a reassuring smile. “You should go to him.”
“He doesn’t want me there.”
“I’m sure that’s not true.”
“I offered to go with him. He said he didn’t need me.”
Janetta clucks her tongue. “Antonio thinks he doesn’t need anyone. He’s been that way since he was a boy. His father burdened him with responsibility at too young an age.”
My eyes widen in surprise. That’s the first time I’ve ever heard anyone criticize Marco Volante. I didn’t spend much time around Antonio’s father when I was a kid, but everyone acted as if he was one of the greatest men to ever walk the Earth. The reverence for him only intensified after he died.
“You need to show him he’s not alone.”
“He isn’t alone,” I tell her. “He has his mother, his sister, his brothers.”
The older woman’s lips twist into a wry grin. “But they cannot give him what you can. The love of his wife is a prize to be treasured. Make him see that.”
“I don’t love him,” I murmur under my breath, even though I’m not sure of the truth of that. If I didn’t love him, surely I’d have let go of my hopes of reconciliation at some point over the last year?
“Yes, you do.” Janetta reaches over and pats my hand. “You wouldn’t be so miserable if you didn’t. And Antonio loves you too in his way.”
“In his way,” I scoff.
Janetta fixes me with a sterner stare now. “Go and have a shower, get dressed, and go be with your family.”
“How would I even get to the city?”
I’m looking for excuses now and the pursing of Janetta’s lips tells me she knows it. “One of the big brutes from the gatehouse can drive you. God knows they have little enough to do.”
Although I’m sure the security team doesn’t just sit around all day waiting for trouble to come to them, I nod. “Okay, who should I ask to drive me?”
“Leave that to me, dear. You go get dressed.”
Until I do as she asks, Janetta won’t give me any peace. I’m grateful for her bossiness, though, because she’s right. I need to be by Antonio’s side, for my sake if not his own. If something happens to Gio and I don’t get the chance to say goodbye, I’ll never forgive myself.
Taking one last bite of my waffle and a big gulp of coffee, I go back upstairs to have a quick shower. I set the water temperature cooler than I like so I’m not tempted to linger. On a normal day, I could stay in the shower for hours.
When I’m done washing, I turn off the water and step out. I blow dry my hair and then take a little time to get my makeup just right. I was surprised to find the vanity at the New York house stocked with my favorite brands. It gives me hope that Antonio kept some of my stuff.
As this is my first time seeing the Volante family in more than a year, I need to hide my fear behind a mask of perfection. To project the image of sophistication and control I’m aiming for, I choose a beautifully tailored navy shift dress and accessorize it with a simple black clutch and shoes with a towering heel. It isn’t me, but it works as well as any suit of armor. Nobody will look at me, so carefully put together, and see a woman in emotional turmoil. I want people to realize I mean business, to see that I’m worthy to stand by Antonio’s side. I want him to realize it, too.
Looking in the mirror one last time, I give myself an encouraging nod before going back to the kitchen. Janetta is there with a hulking brute of a man. Dark-haired and build like a tank, he has to be close to seven feet tall. He’s an absolute ogre. My heart flutters in fear. Then he turns to me and flashes a shy, boyish smile and I relax.
“Isabella, this is Paul.”
“Paul.”
“Mrs. Volante.” His voice is a deep rumble rising from the depths of his chest. He’d be truly terrifying if it wasn’t for the sparkle in his baby blue eyes. Something about him instantly makes me feel safe. “If you’re ready, I’ll drive you to the hospital.”
“Thank you, Paul.”
I give Janetta a quick hug goodbye and follow Paul as he lumbers along the corridor. As we head for the front door, I realize I’m missing some crucial information. “Oh, I don’t know which hospital they’re at.”
“They’re at St. Vincent’s, the Stanhope Wing.”
Of course they are. Only the finest medical care will do for New York’s premier crime family. Paul leads me out to a gray Audi SUV waiting in the driveway and opens the back door for me. I’d rather sit in the front with him, but I understand he might be uncomfortable with his boss’s wife being so close. I slide onto the seat and Paul closes the door.
“You won’t get in trouble for taking me there, will you?” I ask as Paul gets behind the driver’s seat.
Paul shrugs. “The boss didn’t say you couldn’t leave.”
Antonio told me to stay put, but I don’t share that information with Paul in case he changes his mind about driving me.
“Then let’s go.”
We don’t talk as we drive, until we get onto the I-95 and Paul tells me about a terrible accident that happened on the road last night. Apparently, Antonio was delayed getting to New York because of it. That will have pissed him off, no doubt.
After a while, the silence in the car becomes oppressive. Paul clearly isn’t one for chit-chat and I don’t have a cellphone to occupy myself with.
“Can you turn on the radio, please?”
He does as I asked. Some bouncy pop song comes on.
“This okay for you, Mrs. Volante?”
“It’s fine.”
I can’t be bothered listening to inane chatter on some talk show and anything too heavy music-wise would probably depress me right now. 1980s pop plays solidly for the entire time it takes to get to the hospital. It’s not my favorite genre of music, but it keeps my mood up until we arrive at St. Vincent’s. Then, as Paul stops at the entrance and switches off the music, my nerves kick in. As he gets out of the car and comes around to open my door, my heart pounds and my hands shake.
“I can’t do this,” I blurt out as Paul opens the door for me.
His forehead creases in confusion. “Mrs. Volante?”
“I made a mistake.” If Antonio wanted me here, he’d have brought me with him last night. Barging in like this won’t win me any favors. If there’s one thing I know about my husband, it’s that he doesn’t like to be taken by surprise. “Take me back to Westport.”
Paul frowns. “Are you sure?”
Am I? Before I have the chance to think things through, the decision is made for me.
“Isabella?”
I glance up as Dante Parisi approaches the car. One of Antonio’s closest friends, he’s dressed in black pants, white shirt open at the neck, and black vest. His dark hair is damp as if he recently took a shower. Probably washing blood off, if I know Dante. He doesn’t look as if he’s had much rest.
“Dante.” I hope I sound suitably composed as I address him. “Any news of Gio?”
He shrugs. “I’ve only just got here.”
“You haven’t spoken to Antonio yet?”
Dante shakes his head. “I’ve been dealing with…” He pauses, weighing up his response. “Stuff.”
“Stuff?”
He smiles grimly. I guess he’s been out cracking skulls, trying to find the person responsible for hurting Gio.
“The other Mrs. Volante, for example.” He straightens his cuffs. “Newlyweds seem to have a habit of causing trouble around here.”
I swallow hard. Is he talking about Alessandro’s wife or Leo’s? They’re both relatively new to the family.
“Which Mrs. Volante?” I ask.
“Leo’s blushing bride. Had to detain her after the shooting, what with her being a Bianchi.”
My blood runs cold. “What did you do to her?”
“None of the things I wanted to. Leo will have to handle his own wayward wife.” He cocks his head to the side. “Why are you only just getting here? Didn’t Tony bring you?”
I avert my eyes, unable to bear his scrutiny. Dante always sees too much.
“Ah, he didn’t want you here. Well, let’s go see how he feels about your presence.”
Dante reaches into the car and grabs my arm. Squealing in fright, I pull away. Paul steps up and puts a hand on Dante’s shoulder.
“Mr. Parisi,” he warns.
Dante just grins. He’s about five inches shorter than Paul and carries half his muscle, but the man is a psychopath. He’d gut the younger man before he could blink.
“It’s fine, Paul,” I assure him. “Dante just wants to get me safely to my husband.”
Hoping that’s true, I scoot to the edge of the seat and put my hand out for Dante to help me from the car. He assists me, not because he’s a gentleman, but so he can grab a firm hold of my arm.
“I’m coming with you,” Paul says.
Surprisingly, Dante doesn’t argue and lets the other man trail behind us as we walk into the hospital, heading for the Stanhope Wing. It’s empowering to have Paul at my back. He makes me feel secure, something I never experienced with any of Antonio’s other men. I wonder if I can keep him. Probably not. Antonio will suspect I’m up to something if I ask to choose my own bodyguard.
As we walk into the ultra-exclusive wing of the hospital, we find a couple of Antonio’s men stationed in the reception area. Dante just has to glare at the poor flustered woman behind the desk for her to buzz us through the secure entrance to the part of the hospital where Gio is being treated.
We take the elevator, getting out on the fourth floor. We walk along the corridor, turn a corner, and then all hell breaks loose.