Chapter 17
17
D ante
The past week has been idyllic—a silly romantic word I’ve never used. Seems so antiquated and far removed from my reality. There's no other way to describe it, though. Lucia has been having sex with me in the evenings, sometimes during the day if we can't wait. She takes care of my baby daughter with so much care and attention. And she gives me care and attention at night, the kind a man needs—the kind I need.
Underneath the surface, there's more. When we agreed not to worry, a weight was lifted. Spending time with someone without the pressure or extra baggage is nice. We both carry extra baggage, but we’ve tucked it away for the last few days and decided not to address it for a while.
"Dante," Rocco says, rushing into my home office. "We need to talk."
He closes the door behind him, walks up to my desk, picks a chair, and sits. He strokes his beard, not the same way he does when he's sure of himself. Right now, doing it quickly and repeatedly equals a nervous tic. He's about to deliver bad news. Shit.
"What is it?" I rock back in my chair, leaning closer.
He glances at me and shoots me an apologetic half-smile, then clears his throat and says, "Your nanny. She's a spy for the Santinis."
"What?" He can't be serious.
“Her real name is Gia Santini. She's married to Ciro Santini… and they live in New York."
A sour sensation spills into my gut, and my heart halts like a hitman struck it out of my chest with a torture device. The easiness from before dissolves from my body, and a bitter harshness takes its place. The image of Lucia forms in my head. Could she really do this? Be that good of an actress? "How do you know?"
I pop my knuckles and adjust myself in my chair like it's become so small, so freaking tight it's uncomfortable. Surprise and deception balloon inside me.
"I went to that same strip club where I first met her. The manager showed me her picture, and he asked if we saw her again. He remembered that she served us the night before she quit. I asked why, and he said her husband was looking for her."
Her husband . That cuts another layer into me. "Did you tell him?"
"Of course not. I said I didn't know her. The manager said she had some mental problems and had fled her husband's care. I could tell it was bullshit. So, I did some digging and found out the truth."
"Fuck. How did we miss this connection?"
"Her husband's father is Aroldo Santini. He's a tiny part of their operations and only works when he needs money. They flew under the radar because, in the big scheme of things, they're not relevant. Until now, of course."
"Yeah. We need to do something about it."
I know what he means. Lucia— Gia —can't live. That's in the mafia guidebook. She infiltrated my home to extract secrets, to make me vulnerable. Death is the punishment. Especially because she got involved with my daughter.
"If Massimo finds out, he'll flip out," Rocco continues.
Massimo's wife was kidnapped along with Andie months ago by the Santinis. Massimo wanted revenge as well, though not as fiercely as me. But if he discovers that one of the Santinis, our sworn enemies, has been sleeping under my roof, he'll want to show them a lesson.
Since we vowed to avenge Ross but haven't been able to, all eyes are on our family. What will happen if people discover we’ve had a Santini under our noses this entire time?
My mind races, and a cold sheen forms on my forehead.
All the lies Lucia, no, Gia, told me.
She told me she ran from a bad breakup. Was that a lie, too? A quick way to gain sympathy.
No wonder she was nervous when she talked about it. Not only was she lying, but she knew that if she told me the truth, I'd end her. Though… another thought crosses my mind. "Why is her husband looking for her? If she's here to spy on us, why would he out her?"
Rocco stands and waves his hands, frustrated. "The fuck if I know. Maybe they're playing games. Maybe she wants to sell secrets to a different family. Doesn't change the fact that she lied about who she is." He heads to the console table, plucks my quality scotch from it, and opens the bottle.
"You lied about who she was, too, Rocco," I remind him. I didn't put her under the same scrutiny of background checks as the others since Rocco brought her to me. Then she confessed she needed a break from her miserable life. I believed her in that moment. Besides, I was desperate.
He takes two tumblers from the silver tray and pours a generous amount of scotch into both. He hands one to me and lifts the other to his mouth. "Because I wanted to get you some fucking help with the baby," he says over the rim before downing it.
I shake my head, adrenaline rushing through me. I glance down at the chestnut liquid, which reminds me of her eyes. All of it was a lie. I lowered my guard and look at what happened. "I'll deal with her."
I take a generous drink, the scotch rolling down my throat and leaving an intense, smoky aftertaste.
"I can take AJ to Massimo's for a few days if you want. I'll say that your nanny left abruptly, and you need help. Amara is there, and Colleen loves babies," he says.
"Why did she wait so long? She could have acted already," I say, thinking out loud.
"Maybe she has. Santini must have some grand plan against us to recruit these people we’ve never heard of. What sane person would work for you, knowing who you are, unless she had twisted intentions?"
"Fuck."
A beat or two goes by. He sits his tumbler on my desk, and his facial expression hardens, his brown eyes darkening to almost black. "Listen, I know you’ve grown attached to her. I could tell at that dinner. But she's a liability."
I swallow the lump of frustration in my throat. I know exactly what those words mean. Rocco may come across as the overbearing, fun-loving brother, but he has a shady side like us. He knows what it takes to be a Gallo—and how hard it is to live up to that name.
I run my hand over my face. I don't want to be away from my daughter, but she'll be safer with Massimo now my home has been compromised. I'll have my team make a big sweep and look for recording devices this Gia person could have brought. Gia knows about my house, my routine, my bodyguards. What else does she know?
My gut clenches. She doesn't know about the basement.
That's precisely where I'll take her. To have a nice little chat… and make her regret taking me for a fucking fool.