Chapter 37 Naomi
A knock comes on my door late in the afternoon. I go open, to find Victor in the hallway. Franco’s next to him, a ball of nervous energy made all the more obvious by his brother’s calm demeanor.
It’s time.
I take a deep breath and follow them downstairs. Luciano’s waiting below, as are Antonio and Marco. I’m surprised Don Giorgio’s also here, and my hackles raise. They brought in the big guns? This was an ambush?
“Figliola,” the old man says as he comes to me, grips my hands, then kisses me on both cheeks.
I curtsy a little in greeting, showing my respect to the elder he is.
“There’s no way you can let us handle this?” he asks.
The best answer is short and to the point—it’s what I’ve discovered with these men, with their kind. In politics, you need to ramble on and wax poetic and lyrical and whatever else other bullshit you need to spew to attain your objectives. Here? These are men of action; words don’t speak so loud with them.
“No,” I tell him softly, yet meaning it with all I’ve got.
He stays silent for a long moment, then he nods.
“Va bene.” His hand comes up on my head while he bows his and whispers something in Italian. A prayer, maybe? “Vai, vai,” he then says, waving us out.
Antonio is staying behind with Don Giorgio. The rest are coming with me. Or rather, they’re taking me to our target.
Once we’re in the Range Rover, Marco at the wheel, I find myself sandwiched between Luciano and Franco, Victor in the front passenger seat. We start on the road, and it seems to be taking us into Manhattan. No, we’re passing through. When we cross the Hudson River, I know where we’re heading. New Jersey. Valentino’s territory.
My hand lands on my belly, and I quell a chuckle. I used to laugh so much at all those celebrities who got caught on pictures with their hands always on their rounded bellies when they were pregnant. Guess it’s an innate instinct—for many women, they become mothers as soon as they know there’s a little one growing in them. Maternal instincts don’t wait to kick in after birth, or as the kid grows, or even never as in some cases. I must count myself lucky I already adore this little bean, who according to the websites, must already weigh about two pounds right now.
For you, baby , I say in my mind. And for your daddy.
A series of flutters inside seems to indicate that maybe she heard me. I pull strength from this the farther we get from Jersey City.
We come to a stop somewhere around Newark. The drone of airplanes is a constant dull roar overhead, and the bone-numbing sound is almost comforting as we alight from the vehicle near some warehouses that have seen better days. I knew we weren’t going to wherever Joel Smith had been hiding. Marco and Pesci extracted him earlier and brought him here, on Andretti-sanctioned grounds. I’m an Andretti, too, so even my business must be dealt with here.
So be it. I breathe in deep, then pause, my hand going to Victor’s arm, stilling him as the others start moving ahead.
His thick eyebrows ask the question for him. What?
I lick my lips. The plan was always to end the life of that fucker in there. During the ride, though, I’ve had time to refine it into actionable steps. Well, I hope they’re doable. That’s why I need to run them by Victor first, make sure I also have his and his brothers’ cooperation in the way I want this whole thing to play out.
He’s still frowning at me when I finish.
“You’re sure?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
His large hand is surprisingly gentle as he places it on my shoulder and steers me forward. The others have stopped at the big door guarded by a handful of men with automatic rifles hanging down their back.
“You’re ready?” Luciano asks me.
I nod.
Franco slips his hand into mine. “Cara, you can still turn around.”
It’s not coddling or him being an obnoxious man. I won’t come back out as the same person who went in when we go ahead with this plan. But I’m ready for this. It’s necessary.
“Let’s do this,” I tell them.
Marco leads the way, to a spot at the back of the warehouse. We pass through a few curtains of plastic sheeting, making me wonder what this space was really used for—I’ve only seen such plastic blinds in videos of slaughterhouses. Franco walks by my side, hand in hand, Luciano and Victor behind me.
When Joel Smith comes into sight, I flinch. Franco’s reassuring squeeze on my fingers gives me my composure again, and I throw my shoulders back to look at the man who has caused so much pain and destruction in my life.
A part of me knows I have to face him as the person he really is to me, use the title rightfully his, just so I can exorcize him from my existence.
“Father,” I say softly.
It’s hard to imagine the portly man who’s been stripped to a greyish white wifebeater and pale blue briefs and tied to a chair is the one who is capable of orchestrating so much mayhem and chaos. Until he turns to me, and the eyes, they tell me all I need to know.
How did I not see this before?
I haven’t lain eyes on him since the day he had me committed at Pineridge, and even that’s a blur because of all the drugs he’d been plying me with at the time, keeping me in a daze half the time when I wasn’t passed out.
Those pale grey orbs? They’re the windows into the soul of a monster.
“Look who’s here,” he crows. “I see you’ve come well surrounded. Fucking them all, aren’t you?”
The men tense around me. Marco’s fist lands into my father’s face, making him spit out blood, and possibly a tooth.
“Show some respect,” Pesci says, spitting at him.
My father sneers. “For that whore?”
Another blow lands onto his face, this time from Pesci.
“This woman is Don Valentino Andretti’s wife,” the capo says. “You’ll show her the respect she is due.”
The white-haired head snaps to me. “Don?”
A surge of triumph unfurls inside me, and I’m smiling. “Didn’t know about this, did you? You sent your goons to attack a Don of the Northeastern coast Mafia, Papa dear. Everyone who’s helped you? They’re dead.”
You’re next. I don’t say it, though. Let him stew and wonder what his fate will be.
“You’re bluffing,” he finally says, eyes shifty now.
I shrug.
“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not.” I step closer, leaving the brothers behind. “Think about it. If you’d waited. A Don for son-in-law. All this power could’ve been all yours.”
Of course, I know things wouldn’t have turned out this way. Valentino was welcomed at the high table precisely because he got rid of Joel Smith on the Mafia’s back, because he made sure another RICO wouldn’t land on them in the coming years. Daddy Dearest doesn’t need to know this, though. It’s good to see him squirm.
He spits at me. “You’re nothing but a whore. Just like your mother.”
I tense up. He shouldn’t have brought her up.
“You raped her when she was fifteen. How much younger should she have been to already be whoring around when you came along?” I throw out at him.
His face curls into such a grimace of covetousness, it’s like seeing a demon come into being.
“She was asking for it.”
Exactly what every rapist will say. I choke down the disgust rising in me, determined to face him once and for all. After tonight, there’ll be no other chance.
“I’m your daughter. What was I asking for, huh?”
“You? I thought you were a good girl, my good girl. All this time, you were just acting like a little innocent virgin, all prudish. Then I find you’re opening your legs to whoever will fuck you.”
I cringe at his words, though I don’t let them get to me.
“Valentino, you mean. The man you absolutely hated. Because he knew the truth about what you did to my mother.”
He scoffs. “You’re not my daughter. You stopped being anything to me the day you let that fucker put a bastard in you.”
His words hit me like a forceful gale, nearly throwing me off my feet.
“You knew?” I ask, the question a murmur.
He roars with laughter. “Of course I knew. They ran your blood at that place, told me you were pregnant. If it were up to me, I would’ve told them to cut that little piece of shit out of you already.”
Things are falling into place. “But you couldn’t. It would’ve looked so bad for your political career if it were found you’d condoned an abortion, even ordered it.”
My hand drops again to my belly, cradling my unborn child from the outside.
My father’s gaze tracks the movement. His mouth distorts into a sneer so vile, I almost take a step back from the hate radiating off him.
“It’s not dead yet?”
I can’t believe he had the guts to say this. I don’t know when my feet start moving. I’m suddenly in front of him, slapping him across the face. My diamond-encrusted wedding ring leaves scratches on his cheek, a rip on his lip.
It’s not just a monster who stares back at me with an unholy gleam in his eye this up close. No, it’s the devil himself. Because of him, I could’ve died so many times. Because of him, my husband is in an ICU bed fighting for his life. Because of him, I could’ve lost my child and worse, not even known I’d carried her inside me for a while in the first place. Because of him, I also lost my mother whose only crime was to have trusted a grownup who then raped her and made her lose her mind.
There’s no hope for him, not even redemption.
I take a step back, exchange a glance with Victor. He nods softly, directing Marco for the next part of this operation.
Joel Smith is rambling away, cursing, spitting, vitriol flowing from his poisoned lips. None of us bother with him, Luciano and Franco watching with a raised brow as Marco brings a large bucket of water and places it a few paces in front of the chair. It’s only now I realize the floor is covered in thick tarp-like plastic.
I gulp. This has to be done, though. For all of us.
Victor steps over to the old man and cuts the ties holding him to the chair using a small knife. He picks Joel Smith up by the hair and then slams him onto his knees on the ground. He leaves him that way and goes to his brothers, with whom he exchanges a few words. Their eyes go wide, they glance at me, then it’s as if resignation settles onto them, lowering their shoulders in resolve. The three of them approach the other man, stopping behind his back as I come to him from the front.
I look into his crazed eyes as I speak.
“This is for Valentino.”
One by one, the Andretti brothers do their part. Victor goes first, because he had to watch this happen to Val. He plunges the knife into Joel Smith’s left side and pulls it out. Luciano is next, then Franco. Three stabs, exactly like Valentino received last night.
They pull away, blood gushing from the wounds and onto the plastic sheeting. The man’s body starts to slump, but I’m not done with him. That’s not how he dies.
I approach, grab his hair. “This is for my mother. For Aoife.”
Then, I dunk his head into the bucket of water, watching as he flails, as he drowns, as the life leaves him in a struggle between his lungs and his heart—which one will give out first?
He’s still gushing blood when the thrashing stops and his head goes limp and heavy under my grip. So, the drowning got him. Just like it killed my mother. I release him and watch him bob in the water.
“Naomi?”
I look up. It’s Marco. He’s next to me, his hands making it onto my shoulders. He takes a handkerchief from his pocket and wipes the tears from my face. I hadn’t realized they were there.
I glance at Val’s three brothers. They all have blood on their hands, though their clothes don’t look marred at all.
“Let’s get you in the car,” Marco says. “We’ll take care of this.”
“Yes, Signora Andretti,” Pesci confirms. “Go.”
It’s done. The threat on all our existences is gone. It’s been dealt with. And I didn’t do it alone. I had my three brothers-in-law with me. Looking at them and catching their eye one by one, I know this is something which has bound us forever, a moment that solidified our bond, one that can never be broken now. We’re united in our love for Valentino.
I nod at the three then turn to Marco. “Take me to my husband, please.”
I find myself in the car with the Andretti men. Victor is driving, Luciano is in front, and in the back is Franco, my own personal safety blanket, it seems like. A wave of fatigue hits me once we start on the road, and I slump against him. His arm comes around my shoulders, and I don’t know when or even how I fall asleep with my head in the crook of his shoulder.
I wake up to a feeling of tension under my cheek, and the air inside the car is heavy. Victor is speeding, too.
“What…what’s wrong?” I ask.
Franco rubs my arm. “It’s nothing, cara.”
Alarm bells are running inside my head.
“No, it’s not. You’re all so strung up. What— Has something happened to Valentino? Is this why we’re going so fast?”
“Naomi, breathe,” Luciano says as he turns to me in the front seat. “Panicking’s not good for the baby.”
I remember the baby, forcing my breath to slow. I can’t, though. Something’s wrong.
“No,” I whimper. “Not Val! No!”
Luciano holds my gaze with burning intensity, “We don’t know what’s happened. Not yet. Francesca’s being kept out of the loop. The doctor’s requesting you, his wife.”
His wife. In other words, his next of kin. Oh, God. To think Valentino married me so he could be my next of kin, so he could protect me this way. But today, the tables have turned on us.
“Nearly there,” Victor clips from the front.
Indeed, I can see the wrought-iron gates up ahead in the dimming glow of twilight.
The car speeds past inside the grounds. As soon as it comes to a stop under the porte-cochere, I jump out and rush to the front door. Franco, or Luciano, is hot on my heels. I don’t care. All I need is to get to Valentino right this minute. Thank goodness the ICU is on the first floor.
I burst through the heavy doors into the unit, finding Francesca pacing in the waiting area.
“Naomi! They won’t let me in! They—”
“I’ve got this,” I tell her, already brushing past to reach the door to Valentino’s room. I try the handle, and when it opens, I waste no time to barge inside.
The bed is surrounded by men and women in coats and scrubs. The beeping is still the background noise.
Nausea assails me. All these people, they’re not talking. There’s no human sound in this room. I can’t— It can’t—
When they see I’m here, a nurse breaks away.
“Mrs. Andretti?”
I nod.
“For a minute there, it was touch and go, but then…”
I don’t hear what else she’s saying. The doctors have moved away from the bed, and the sight that greets me would’ve brought me to my knees had I not already been holding on to a chair next to me.
It’s Valentino. There’s no tube in his mouth anymore, and his eyes are open, looking at me, locked on me.
I gasp out—it could be a word or a sob, I don’t know. I rush to my husband’s side and place a hand on his cheek. My lips touch his, reverently, softly, and I lift my head when I feel him smiling faintly against my mouth.
“Hey,” he says, voice low and rough.
“Hey,” I reply, my voice watery and trembling. “I thought…”
He heaves in a deep breath. “Thought so, too.”
I can’t believe he’s awake. I pull away a little, both my hands on his cheeks now, touching him, feeling the ridges and dips of his features, the stubble raspy against my palms.
“How are you feeling?” I ask.
His face goes sober. “Something…need to tell you.”
I frown, blink a few times. “What? What is it?”
His earnest blue eyes meet mine, and everything inside me stops.
“I love you,” he says.
Though the words don’t come out any louder than a whisper, I hear them loud and clear. My heart almost breaks so much it’s swelling. With warmth, with love for this man. I’d hoped he’d one day fall in love with me; I’ve been a goner for him since I was fifteen.
“I love you, too,” I reply with a trembling voice, on the verge of tears. Then I kiss his lips softly. “Val, there’s something you need to know.”
“What?” he croaks.
Suddenly, I don’t know how to tell him. Maybe actions will speak louder, convey everything more than words ever can?
I take his hand and unfurl his palm onto the curve of my belly.
I feel the flutters inside, then it’s…a kick?
Valentino’s eyes grow wide. “Is that…our daughter?”
A laugh bubbles out of me. He got it. And he’s happy.
“Yes.” Then I frown. “Wait. How do you know this? And that it’s a girl?”
He smiles at me. “Because she came to me. Told me Mommy needed me, so I had to go back.”
I blink at him. “She has pale hair, brilliant blue eyes?”
He nods. “Gabriela.”
“No. Her name is Serafina. That’s what she told me…”
“That’s what she told you?” His eyes widened in surprise.
As another kick bounces against my abdomen and his hand, we both go still as our eyes lock.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” I ask him.