EIGHT
I Won’t Embarrass You
IVO
Two months later…
In the last months, Elisa and I have had dinner together every Friday night. Each night, it gets harder to leave her at the door. I can see she wants me to kiss her properly but feel like I’m being unfaithful to Maria. I need to move past this, and the only man I can talk to is Raffaele. That’s why I called him right after our date tonight and told him I needed to talk.
It’s nearing midnight, and I’m standing in a cemetery next to my wife’s grave, with Raffaele right by my side, just like the day we buried her. I still feel the ache in my gut, the same pain as the day she left this world.
“Ivo, what do you need?” Raffaele asks. I turn and see his expression of concern. “If you want me to release you from the promise you made, consider it done. I’ll find an appropriate man for Elisa.”
The idea of Elisa with anyone else fills me with rage. “Fuck no!” I growl. I rake a hand through my hair and pace back and forth. “Why do I feel this way? I loved Maria, but she’s gone. I should be able to move on.”
“Moving on isn’t always as simple as it sounds,” Raffaele says with a sigh. “You’re trying to hang onto her because you’re afraid of forgetting her.” His words hit home. Maria was my first love, and when she died, part of me died along with her. “She’ll always have a place in your heart. Maria was one of the best people I’ve ever met, and in our world of torture, blood, and death, she was an oasis of calm. But she isn’t here with us anymore, and she would want you to move on and give Adriana a good life with a good woman by your side. Elisa’s one of the finest women in Ultimo Morte.”
“I don’t want to say goodbye,” I admit, my throat clogged with emotion.
“You already said goodbye. It’s been four years,” Raffaele reminds me gently.
“I want Adriana to know her.”
“Then tell her all the stories you can remember about her mother. Do you think Elisa will mind?” he asks incredulously, then answers his own question. “That’s ridiculous. Elisa isn’t Adriana’s mother, but she can be a good mother figure in her life. And what’s wrong if Adriana considers her a mom? It means she had two women love her in her life. The one who gave her life and another to see her through life. You know in your heart Maria would love this for her daughter and for you, because that’s the kind of woman she was.” Everything Raffaele says is the truth. “I’ll give you a moment. I’ll be by the car,” he says and steps away, leaving me alone with a cold headstone.
Anyone would think me crazy to be talking to a tombstone. “You know I loved you. Every moment of every day we shared, I loved you. I’m not even sure what I’m feeling for Elisa. It’s not the same as what we had. I don’t think what we had could ever be duplicated.” I run my hand over my face, keeping the tears at bay. “Shit! I want her. And not just in my bed, in my life. Raffaele gave me an out, and I didn’t take it.” I pause, then crouch down and reach out to touch the stone. “She’s so good with Adriana. She’s patient, and Adriana’s shown her stubborn side. I thought for sure Elisa would run for the hills, but she didn’t. She sat in Adriana’s room and waited for her to calm down, then gently called her over and gave her all the time she needed to put her frustrations into words.” My throat tightens, and I choke out, “It’s exactly what you would have done.” I wipe away the only tear I allow to fall and clear my throat. “I have to move on, but you need to know that I’ll never forget what we had.”
I place the flowers on the grave and get to my feet. I begin to walk away, but stop to turn back. “I’ll come visit, and I’ll bring Adriana when she’s older.”
The next evening…
It’s approaching the six-month mark since Guido’s death, and it’s almost time to set the wedding date. Elisa hasn’t mentioned it once and is probably wondering if I’m going to back out. The truth is that I’ve been busy trying to decipher the pages and pages of numbers on the USB keys we found hidden in Guido’s den.
Dates, amounts, and codes that we believe are bank accounts. The money adds up to over two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. This is money that’s missing from Guido’s personal accounts . Guido wasn’t working in the business, but somehow accumulated information that shows money is gone missing. So many unanswered questions that we may never have answers to. How do you question a dead man?
We’ve been digging into Bruto’s accounts, but there’s nothing out of the norm being transferred in or out. Raffaele’s convinced that he either knows about it or is involved in some way. We’ve made some surprise visits to him, and Bruto was courteous and respectful, but there’s something not right about him lately.
I’ve asked Elisa’s guards if Bruto’s ever returned to see her, and he hasn’t. Neither has Ruggero. Elisa doesn’t have anyone come and visit except Evangeline, Adriana, and me. I find that odd as well. I’m aware that Elisa likes her quiet and isn’t a social butterfly, but it seems like she’s cut herself off from the rest of the women in the family and even from her own parents.
In a way, this suits me fine. I detest the social events Raffaele insists I attend and only go begrudgingly. As my wife, Elisa will need to be by my side, and since Raffaele has made Evangeline his queen, and with me being his consigliere, that means Elisa will have to rise to the occasion and accompany Evangeline to many of the women’s social functions.
Raffaele and I have enlisted the assistance of several hackers to see if they can break the code on the USB keys. They’ve made some progress, but each file is encrypted and has a password. The progress is slow. We thought about asking Reno for Dante’s help, but decided to hold off and try this on our own first.
We’ve made sure to take the duty of paying Elisa’s bills away from Bruto and found that Guido’s accounts have been drastically drained, after his death, since we first gave Bruto that responsibility. I’ve not mentioned this to Elisa because Raffaele wants to keep this under wraps until we get to the bottom of it.
Tonight, I’m taking Elisa out for dinner at Chez Monique, a French restaurant in the city. More often than not, Elisa prefers to stay home and make a meal where Adriana would join us as well, or we’d go to a local restaurant that Adriana would choose. I thought this would be a nice change of pace and give Elisa and me time alone to talk.
It’s time to discuss the details of our wedding. Seeing that this is a second marriage for both of us, it will be a low-key affair. If I had my way, the only people in attendance would be my daughter, Raffaele, and Evangeline. However, it would be rude to ignore Elisa’s family, even though they haven’t shown their faces since the funeral. Since Luigi was told that I would be making Elisa my wife, all he thinks about now is elevating his status and that of Leno, his son, in Ultimo Morte. Luigi should know Raffaele and me better than that. In Ultimo Morte, you earn your position, and you get prime business dealings based on your performance.
Leno’s a smart man and well educated. He’s much more refined than his father, and he does well negotiating with the politicians we have on our payroll. Since we found the hidden information, Raffaele and I have been digging deep into the people who Guido still had contact with. Both Luigi and Leno came up clean. The only beef I have with Leno is that he left his sister out there on her own to deal with the sorrow and pain of losing her husband. The question of why is one I plan on asking him once I get him alone.
I told Elisa where we were going for dinner, and her eyes popped wide open.
“Is this a problem?” I asked her.
“N-no.” She looked so cute as she bit her lip, then she looked tentatively up at me and said, “It’s a very expensive restaurant, Ivo, and, um, very public.” Her voice trailed off.
“Right.” I acknowledged her train of thought. “It’s expected that you’re going to marry again, and I’m not going to hide the fact that we’re going to be together.” I put on my best smile. “I expect you to have an appropriate dress for the occasion.” She gave me a shy smile and a small nod.
I’m looking forward to seeing what Elisa has chosen to wear tonight. She never disappoints, whether it be torn jeans, fancy silky tops, or tight skirts. I walk up the steps to the front door and ring the bell. The door swings open. I expect to see the beautiful woman I’ve seen for the last few months, and beautiful she is, only tonight, she’s exceptionally glamorous.
Elisa is wearing a sexy, black, slim, knee-length dress, the top a lace camisole with spaghetti straps. Her hair is pulled to one side and pinned up with black-and-silver accessories. Even her makeup is more elegant and sexy: smoky shadow that highlights the blue-purple specks in her eyes and the ruby-red lips that I imagine wrapped around my cock. She’s a walking dream, and she’s mine.
“Will I do?” she asks in a husky voice. She feels it too. The smoldering fire that started with embers that we’ve been fanning to a flame since the first time I came to see her. She tugs the sheer black shawl around her shoulders.
“You’ll do very nicely,” I say with a salacious grin. I hold out my hand; she places hers in mine, and I lead her to my car. I help her in, getting a peek at the smooth skin of her thigh. It takes all I have to keep my eyes on the road and my hands on the steering wheel. My fingers are itching to graze over her bare knee.
The parking lot of Chez Monique is full, as it always is. It’s the most elite restaurant in town, and anyone who’s anyone comes to eat here, including the captains and underbosses of Ultimo Morte . I chose this place because of the exceptional food, but now I’m regretting my decision as we’re being led to our table by our perfectly coiffed hostess in her uniform of pristine black skirt and white blouse. I place my hand on Elisa’s back as we walk past the tables, around several of which are seated some of our senior men and their wives having dinner.
Elisa draws in a heavy breath, keeping her gaze steady on the path to our table. I hold her chair out, then take my seat opposite her. She looks at her menu, then at me, then at her lap, but not once does she glance around the room to take a look at the restaurant itself. Elisa is avoiding the inquisitive stares aimed in our direction.
“May I get you something to drink?” the waiter asks.
“A bottle of white wine. Your best Chablis,” I tell him. I’ve noticed that Elisa prefers white wine with her meals. I also notice how she closes her eyes on the first sip, taking in the full-body taste, savoring the flavor.
Elisa’s lips curve into a small smile. “Thank you,” she murmurs. Her sweet expression makes me grin.
“Do you need another moment with the menu?” the waiter asks. His focus centers on the swell of Elisa’s breasts.
“Hey!” I say sharply. The good-looking, twenty-something, blond-haired Romeo jerks his gaze back to me. His hands start to tremble, and so they should. I could gouge his eyes out for staring at my woman like he is. “Do yourself a favor and find another waiter to serve us.”
He slinks away with his tail between his legs.
“I’m sure he didn’t mean anything by it,” Elisa whispers.
“He was ogling your tits. You may not know this about me, but I’m a possessive bastard. He’s lucky he’s still breathing,” I tell her gruffly. Elisa scans the room and takes a deep breath. It seems that we’ve caught the attention of the patrons. “Ignore them.”
“That’s hard to do when we’re the main attraction,” she says.
As soon as I meet the gazes of our men, they know to turn their heads. Then I see three men at the far end of the room, one I know very well. Sean McDaniel is the latest addition to our political fold. He’s easy to bribe and has many skeletons in his closet that make him easy to manipulate. The other two don’t look familiar.
I trust my gut, and I get a sick feeling that trouble is afoot. They’re sitting at a corner table, the two unknown men with their backs to me. One’s got light brown hair and wide shoulders. The other has a slimmer build and is leaning into Sean while talking. He seems to be the leader of the two. Sean doesn’t appear too happy and pulls back, only for the leader to reach for his wrist to stop him from moving. I may not be able to see his face, but his thick finger has a gaudy gold ring on it.
I need to get a closer look at the situation. I excuse myself, beelining for the men’s room, moving right past Sean and his guests. Sean’s agitated, and I would be too if I were him and had an envelope with a photo on top showing Sean and a half-naked woman in bed. Sean turns the picture over.
“What do you want?” Sean asks through clenched teeth.
I want to laugh out loud that good ol’ Sean got caught with physical evidence of his infidelity. Mr. Squeaky Clean to the public, with a respectable wife, on several boards for local charities, and father to three kids between the ages of seventeen and twenty-one, has been photographed with a high-class prostitute. Unfortunately, Sean is our political puppet, and these guys are tangling with our patsy.
When I get to the bathroom, I text Raffaele to let him know what’s going down. I can easily subdue these two idiots, but that’s only half the problem. We need to know who they’re working for. Raffaele tells me to go ahead with my plan. As I go back to my table, I stop at several other tables to say hello to our men, placing my hand on their shoulders and squeezing. It’s my signal that I need their assistance.
Once I’m back with Elisa, I send a quick text to Sean. When he looks at his phone, his head rises, and he looks around the room and locks eyes with me. I can see the expression of relief. His job is to give a sign when they’re about to head outside. We’ll do the rest.
The new waiter comes to take our order. I’m glad that Elisa didn’t opt for a salad and instead chose filet mignon. I go for the medium rare, twelve-ounce Kobe steak. While we wait for our dinner and Sean’s signal, Elisa asks me about my day and Adriana.
“Is Adriana making new friends at school?” she asks.
“Adriana keeps talking about a girl named Taylor. Taylor this and Taylor that,” I kid. “She seems to really like this girl.”
Elisa laughs.
“What’s so funny?”
She laughs louder and harder, covering her mouth with her hands.
“What?” I say, although I’m enjoying the show as she laughs, her cheeks turning pink.
“Taylor—Taylor is a boy,” she sputters.
“A boy? Are you serious? How do you know?” I ask. Jesus! She’s only four, and the boys are already sniffing around.
She finally stops laughing, her eyes twinkling and her smile huge. “Adriana mentioned this boy named Taylor and how he shares his snack with her, and they sit next to each other every day.” I’m obviously not hiding my frustration well because Elisa continues. “He’s just a sweet little boy. He’s only four, and he’s looking for a friend. Adriana is chatty and personable. And Adriana says that Taylor is shy. At this age, it’s not about boy-girl stuff. It’s kids being kids, no malice or judgment, just having fun.”
Logically, I know this to be true. But I also know that boys grow into young men. “I don’t like it,” I spit out. “Not at all.”
“Don’t you think you’re making a little too much out of this? In a month, Charlotte might be her bestie, or Mary, the other two little friends she plays with. And personally, girls can get jealous and catty. Maybe not at four, but the drama will come.” She rolls her eyes. “I hated the drama.”
I can’t help it. I have to laugh at her expression. “High school wasn’t fun, huh?”
“Nope.” She shakes her head.
“I kind of remember you as a teenager. You were already promised to Guido, as I recall,” I say.
“Yep, and the girls at school wouldn’t stop teasing me about it. Or they would tell me about all the whores he would visit because I wasn’t giving him any. Girls can be ruthless,” she says sadly. “If anything, that’s what I would want to protect Adriana from. She’s beautiful now, and she’s going to be gorgeous as a young woman, and her heart is pure. I would hate for people like that to take advantage of her or make her feel less than the wonderful person she is.”
“Anyone hurts my daughter, and they’ll have to deal with me,” I grumble.
She gives me a weak smile. “I wish it were that easy. The heart is a fragile thing. We have to arm Adriana with confidence and encourage her to be her unique self. Once she knows her own worth, what others say won’t matter.”
“You’re speaking from experience,” I comment. She remains silent, and I know there’s something she’s not saying.
My phone buzzes. Sean: Leaving now. That’s my cue.
“You’ll have to excuse me once more. I have to make a call. If our food arrives, please start in,” I say. I stand and make my way to the front entrance. One by one, my men join me, and we find a dark corner where we can wait for Sean to come out with his two dinner companions.
I quickly catch my colleagues up to speed. Levio and Dan approach first and divert the men who were sitting with our politician, away from Sean, who quickly gets out of our way and dives into his car for refuge. As I get closer, I see that Levio and Dan recognize these men.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Levio asks.
“Jesus, you have some explaining to do,” Dan says, dropping his gun. Voices rise, and the larger of the two men, who is now arguing with Dan, reaches for the gun in his holster under his jacket.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” I say, placing the barrel of my gun against the back of his head so he can feel the metal touching his scalp.
The slimmer man turns to me. Holy shit! Raffaele is going to lose his mind. I come face-to-face with Ruggero. Since that day at Elisa’s house, he’s gone quiet. Lately, both Bruto and Ruggero are rarely seen. Even when Raffaele and I have gone to meet with Bruto to go over the books, Ruggero’s conveniently been away tending to business.
Yet, here he is with Sean McDaniel, and all signs point to Ruggero shaking down a political patsy for either money or a favor. Judging by the look on his face, he’s been caught, and he knows it. This is going to be interesting. I pull back the gun from his lackey.
“Turn around,” I tell the man. He’s one of the newest soldiers. Not my choice, but then again, I didn’t have to work with him. It’s rare that we let an outsider become part of Ultimo Morte. Clive Sullivan is a kid from the wrong side of the tracks who was desperate to claw his way into our world. He started off as an errand boy and gained Bruto’s trust. I’m not easily duped, and I don’t trust Clive.
I glance from Clive to Ruggero. “I can explain,” Ruggero says.
“Shut up!” I bark. “There is no explanation you can give for going around me and our capo and speaking with Sean McDaniel independently. What business could you possibly have with Mr. McDaniel?”
“I thought we needed more leverage. Getting photos of the future senator is collateral if he tries to defy us or get out of our deal. I did this to protect Ultimo Morte ,” Ruggero declares. “Clive is here for backup. That’s all. I swear.”
I don’t believe his bullshit for a second. I’m going to give him enough rope to let him hang himself. I extend my hand. “Give me the envelope,” I order. Ruggero does so immediately. “I want the file with the digital copies in my inbox within the hour. Clive will be reassigned tomorrow, and you will present yourself tomorrow morning. Raffaele or I will let you know when and where.” I step closer, looming over Ruggero. There’s fear in his eyes. He’s hiding something else. I still don’t have McDaniel’s account of the interaction between Ruggero and him, but I would bet every last cent I have that Ruggero was shaking our politician down for money.
“Get out of here,” I tell him. I watch as they crawl into Ruggero’s sporty new BMW and drive off. “Did you put the tracker on his car?” I ask Nino, the man left hiding in the shadows.
“Yes, sir,” Nino responds. “Do you want me to follow them?”
“I do.”
“I’ll make sure your date gets home and make up some excuse,” Levio says, stepping up. Nino nods and hops in his car, following the same route where we saw Ruggero go.
“Notify McDaniel that I’ll be in touch with him later tonight. I’ll call Raffaele. Right now, I need to get back inside.” I walk away. I’ve been missing long enough, and I’m furious that my evening was interrupted by a pissant like Ruggero.
ELISA
The food arrived, and after five minutes of waiting with our meal sitting in front of me, I asked the waiter to please keep it warm. Ivo told me to start without him, but it doesn’t feel right. I’ve had plenty of meals alone lately. It’s a nice change to sit with Ivo.
He’s hugely intimidating when you first see him, but under that rough exterior is a very intelligent man. He can also be funny, and a few times, he’s joked with me, and I found myself laughing so hard, my belly ached. The more time I spend with this man, the more I find myself thinking about him. These thoughts make me wonder what it will be like when Ivo kisses me properly. So far, his lips have grazed my cheek, but he’s holding back.
What if he doesn’t find me attractive? I dressed with the intention of getting a rise out of Ivo. I strived for elegant yet alluring. I thought I accomplished my task when his eyes raked over my form from top to toe, and I saw the heated desire in his expression. I relished the moment as his hand at my back guided us to our seats.
Unfortunately, it became clear that we were the center of attention of the other patrons in the restaurant. I recognize a few of the men and their wives. These are the same women who were quick to pass judgment on me and the reason I attended functions without Guido. They assumed I was searching for a lover.
I found it odd that Ivo stopped at several tables and pray I didn’t make my discomfort known and he simply dropped by to say hello. We were having such a pleasant talk when he was suddenly heading to the door to take a call, but I soon saw that it was not a call, but a problem.
Imagine my shock when I noticed Ruggero walking past me and leaving the restaurant. He saw me too, and his expression was anything but kind. He was sneering, and his eyes were daggers aimed right at me. It sent cold shivers down my spine.
I averted my gaze and swept the room to see the cackling hens congregating at one of the tables. I recognized Levio with his date earlier. He was a nice person and a decent friend to Guido. He attempted several times to see him after the horrible attack from the Bratva. Guido let him come around a few times, but eventually cut him off as well, constantly making excuses and avoiding his calls. I wish I had a better opinion of his wife, Miranda, but that’s difficult when I remember the ugly words said about me. Even though they didn’t come from her, she didn’t defend me either.
Ivo comes through the front door and heads straight back to our table, his jaw hard. He’s visibly annoyed. I assume his change in mood has to do with Ruggero.
“That took longer than I wanted,” Ivo states with exasperation. He looks down at his empty place setting.
I jump in. “I sent it back to keep warm. There’s nothing worse than a cold steak.” He looks at me like he’s trying to figure me out. “We need to tell the waiter we’re ready.” He’s still staring. I touch my cheek and look down at my dress. Nothing seems out of place. “Did I do something wrong?”
He grins. “Not at all.” He gets the waiter’s attention, and within seconds, our meals arrive. He waits for me to take a bite before tasting his. “We need to discuss our wedding arrangements,” he says smoothly.
“I would like to keep it simple,” I say. I hate being on display. It was different when Guido and I got married. Guido wanted the attention, and he wasn’t going to let others believe that he was giving up and wouldn’t be walking again soon. We were young and thought we were invincible. It made sense at the time.
“I agree. However, we need to consider your family. Surely, they’ll want to be in attendance. I’m sure you want a church wedding,” he says.
“I don’t care about that. As for my family,” I shrug, “if they come, they come. If not,” I sigh, “then it doesn’t matter.” My father will be there because he considers it a coup to have his daughter married to Raffaele’s consigliere. Mom will have an excuse to buy a lavishly expensive new dress, and my brother will have to take time out of his day to attend. That may be a good thing. Dad has got him basically running the territory, and Leno rarely has time to talk anymore. “What about your family?”
“Adriana is my family. And Raffaele and Evangeline, of course. My parents are dead, and I’m an only child. I do, however, need to think about my position, as Raffaele keeps reminding me. A few invitations to the more senior underbosses will be necessary.”
I suck in my lower lip. I knew we wouldn’t be able to get away with walking into city hall, but I was hoping to do without the inquisitive eyes of the underbosses and their wives. I nod, understanding this is a must for his position.
“I won’t wear a white dress. It isn’t appropriate.”
“As long as it isn’t black, bright red, or outlandish, wear what you like,” Ivo responds. “We will marry in a church.”
“But I—”
“This isn’t something either of us should be ashamed of. We were both previously married, and we decided we’re a good match. Simple as that.”
“People will talk.” Even I can hear the tremble in my tone.
He reaches over and rests his hand over mine. “Let them.” His lips curve into a sly smile. “I dare them.”
The problem is, they wouldn’t dare do it in Ivo’s presence, but I’m sure to hear about it. His decision is absolute. There’s no point in arguing over the matter. And whether it be a church or garden ceremony, tongues will wag. It won’t matter what I wear. Bitchy women will always find a reason to gossip.
“Three weeks, Elisa. You need to decide what you want to do with the house,” he says matter-of-factly.
“Three weeks! I can’t possibly put together a wedding in three weeks. Finding a venue will be impossible.” Panic is setting in. First of all, this is becoming very real, and second, how on earth can I put together a wedding with someone of Ivo’s status in such a short time?
“Where would you like to have the reception lunch? I’ll take care of it.” He shrugs.
“These places are booked way in advance, Ivo. It’s not that easy.”
“Where?” He raises a brow.
“I don’t know. How many people? Fifty? It needs to be big enough to hold our guests comfortably, but not so big that it seems empty.”
“All right. We cap it at fifty. Where would you like?”
“I’d like the museum. They have a beautiful space, with elegant art on the walls and windows all along one wall that open up onto a terrace. But they don’t open that for events.” I know other girls who have tried to rent that space, but it was impossible. “I’ll look for a nice restaurant tomorrow.”
“Don’t bother. I’ll get the museum,” he says, then changes the topic. “We should have dessert.”
“Ivo—”
He looks into my eyes and gives me a look that says he won’t be swayed. “I’ll take care of it. And I’ll get you a list of guests that Raffaele will insist upon. It might be a good idea to include Evangeline in the planning. She’s eager, and she wants to help.”
“I like Evangeline,” I tell him. She’s been very kind and has made a point of having me over several times for coffee to chat since it was declared that Ivo and I would marry. I could definitely use a friend, and all this planning is going to make my head spin. “I’ll give her a call tomorrow and see if she wouldn’t mind.”
“Good. She’ll love it.” He calls over the waiter and orders two crème br?lées. Well, I guess that conversation is over. There’s more I need to say, but I don’t know how.
“Ivo,” I say. I have to tell him.
“Yes, regina mia.” My belly goes all gushy when he calls me that. I open my mouth, then close it again. I can’t. I’ve never brought up the topic of sex with a man. I don’t know what to say or how to start. “You’re not saying anything, babe,” he teases.
“I’ll do my best not to embarrass you,” I say. I’m a coward!