Chapter 13
Thirteen
Marchello
Problem after problem. My father’s empire was spiraling out of control, and I had to figure out how to stop the fallout.
“Someone is trying to draw you out,” Milo said over the phone.
“What happened?” I asked.
“Are you sitting down?”
“Fucking tell me,” I shouted.
“The shipment scheduled to dock this morning was intercepted.”
“Intercepted by who?” I gripped my phone, trying to block out the fury that threatened to seep in.
“As far as I can tell, it looks like it was the Bello family,” he said. “Our informant said that Frankie Bello is making noise and saying that since Dad isn’t around, our territory is up for grabs.”
“That motherfucker.” I leapt out of the chair like a predator ready to pounce on his unsuspecting prey and paced the dimly lit room. “This is not good.”
“Wait until the cartel finds out we lost their shipment.”
Wait until Dad finds out.
“Chello, what do you want to do? We have to move fast.”
“We have to hit back, but first I need to smooth this over with the cartel.”
“How are you going to do that?”
“We’ll pay for everything they lost.” I let out a long, frustrated breath. “Throw in any car that they want to make this right. A show of good faith.”
“I’ll have Lucas handle the negotiations,” Milo said.
“Yes, it’s better if he does it.”
Lucas, our lead attorney, had a way of making disasters disappear. Not the same way I made problems disappear, but in this situation, he was our best option.
Milo cleared his throat. “There’s something else.”
“What is it?” It couldn’t be much worse than losing a shipment for the cartel while we were in the middle of a war.
“People know you’re not showing your face. It’s proving to them that you do have Gian’s daughter. It’s making Gian’s case for him. You went after a family member, and most of them don’t like it.”
“Is Bello working with Gallanti?”
“I think so.”
“Both families will pay.” I gritted my teeth. “Let them wait a day or two and anticipate our next move.”
“I’ll call Lucas now and have him reach out to the cartel.”
“Tell him I want to see him. Both of you fix this mess with the cartel and then come here so we can figure out how best to proceed.”
“You already know what’s best.”
“If I come home now, I’m a target.” I sighed. “Watch your back and increase your security. You don’t go anywhere alone. I want you to lay low.”
“Sure.”
“I know you’re not happy with me, but I can regain control. I don’t need you doing anything stupid, like getting yourself killed, while I’m figuring it out.”
“I trust you.”
“I can’t do this without you.” If anything happened to him because of something I did, I would never forgive myself. “I have to know you’re safe, Milo.”
“You know me. I’ll shoot first and ask questions later.”
“Call me when you know something.”
“Hey.”
“What?”
“Now would be a good time to use those ten minutes and relieve that stress.” He laughed. “Since you’re stuck there with her and all.”
“Fuck you.” I ended the call and threw my phone on the desk.
I wanted more than anything to take care of this problem myself, but if I left now, an enemy family could kill or capture me. If that happened, I’d leave Milo vulnerable.
A gust of autumn wind swept the colorful leaves across the lawn outside the window. In taking a hostage, I made myself a prisoner.
If they drew me out and I screwed up by getting caught, my father would be forced to return before we cleared the way for him to come back safely. Worst of all, Lissia wouldn’t be safe.
How did I get here?
I snatched my glass off the desk and launched it at the wall, shattering it into tiny shards that hit the floor.
“Whoa.” Lissia stared at the broken glass when she entered the room. “What did that glass do to you?”
Ricardo must have given her the message about having dinner with me because she wore the black silk dress and silver stilettos I had delivered for her.
“Ricardo let me out of the room,” she said. “Is it really necessary to lock me in?”
It wasn’t, but I wanted to prove a point. Now that she stood in front of me in that slinky dress, I needed to rethink my approach. The more I kept her locked away, the more I deprived myself of her beauty.
“Do you want to tell me why you smashed the glass?”
“No.”
“Does it have something to do with my dad?”
“I don’t want to discuss it.” I extended my hand to her. “Did you get the books I had Ricardo put on your lunch tray?”
“Yes.”
“Were they good choices for you?”
“They’ll keep me busy while I’m locked in my room.” She twisted the ends of her hair and tossed them over her shoulder. “I’d much rather have a phone and a computer.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t want to fight with you,” I said. After the news about the shipment, I didn’t have the energy for her incessant requests.
“We’re not fighting.”
Yet.
“Is it possible to have a quiet evening?” I placed my hand on the small of her back, leading her out of the room and down the hallway. “I had dinner brought in. Can we eat in peace?”
“Is that what smells so good?”
I opened the doors to the sunroom that overlooked the backyard. Ricardo had set up the room for an intimate dinner, like I requested, and he’d gone all out. Candles, a fire in the hearth, and champagne chilling in the bucket by the small table set for two. White fucking twinkling lights were hung throughout the room.
Fuck, I requested dinner, not a setup for me to propose.
“It’s cozy here,” she said.
While she admired Ricardo’s work, I admired my hostage. Her flawless complexion glowed against the backdrop of the flames in the fireplace. Her thick and shiny black locks cascaded over her shoulders and down her slender back, almost reaching that gorgeous ass of hers.
“Would you like a glass of champagne?” I removed the bottle from the bucket. Ricardo had popped it a few minutes ago.
“I’d love some.” She sat on the loveseat by the fire as I poured two glasses.
“The dress is up to your standards?”
“Are you kidding?” She scooted over so I could sit next to her. “It’s from the upcoming Valentino spring line. How did you even get it?”
“I have connections in Italy.” I sat next to her. “You know your fashion.”
“I should.” She smiled at me. “It’s been my life for a long time.”
“What do you plan to do with that degree?”
“I don’t know.” She lost herself in thought for a moment.
Was my question too difficult for her to answer?
“Being a stylist might be fun.” She finished her drink. “I could dress the models on the runway and beyond. I haven’t made up my mind yet.”
“Because you’re too busy spending your daddy’s money?” I took her empty glass and gave her my full one. “You haven’t given your own career much thought.”
“You’re not drinking?”
“I need something stronger.”
“How long did it take you to figure out you wanted to be a money launderer? Or a criminal? What is your specific job title?”
“I told you I didn’t want to fight.”
“You started it.” She set her glass on the table next to her. “But I’ll try my best not to provoke you.”
“Thank you.” I trailed my fingers up her neck and to her mouth, running them along her pouty, red lips. “I’m not in the mood to be provoked.”
Unless you want more of what happened the other night.
She gently kissed my fingertips. When I ran the back of my hand along her jaw, she darted the tip of her tongue out and glided it along her lips.
“Are you hungry?” I asked.
She gazed into my eyes and nodded.
“For dinner,” I clarified, standing and extending my hand. “It’s going to get cold.”
She took my hand and allowed me to guide her to the table. I pulled out her chair and motioned for her to sit. Once she was seated, her dress slid up her thighs, almost revealing her panties, but she wasn’t so modest tonight and left the hem where it was.
You’re teasing me.
I took the napkin from her place setting, unfolded it, and placed it on her lap.
“Your manners are impeccable.” She looked up at me. “Who knew?”
“I can be a gentleman when the situation calls for it.” I lifted the silver lid off the platter in front of her to reveal the delectable pasta choices. “Most times, I find that being a gentleman now gets me what I want later.”
“I have a feeling you won’t be so much of a gentleman later.”
“That depends on how the rest of the night goes.” I stroked her cheek. “You’ll have to decide if you’re looking for someone with a different approach than I have.”
“I’m not used to anyone’s approach, so I might be at a disadvantage.”
Your disadvantage is my advantage.
“Can I get you more champagne?” I asked.
“Please.”
I retrieved her glass from the end table by the loveseat.
She waved her hand over the pasta. “This looks delicious. Ravioli, penne, spaghetti, and bowtie. So many choices and sauces.”
“I ordered it from Franchi’s Bistro, and one of my guys picked it up.”
I had Milo order a sampling of all the pasta on the menu because I wasn’t sure what she would like.
“On twenty-ninth street?”
“You know it?” I poured her more champagne.
“I’ve been there a few times. I love their cannoli cheesecake.”
“We have that for dessert.”
“Really?” Her eyes lit up. “Something to look forward to.”
I hadn’t given her much to look forward to the past few days. I took her against her will, threw away her phone, and locked her in her room. This certainly wasn’t the life she had become accustomed to.
I sat across from her and lifted the silver lid off my platter. The aroma of the pasta filled the air, and suddenly, I was ravenous.
“I got the house dressing.” I pointed to the little boat filled with Italian dressing. “I hope that’s okay.”
“It’s fine.” She poured some of it over the salad on the small plate next to her platter of pasta. “I’ve never had a bad meal from here.”
“We used to go all the time when Milo and I were kids. Jojo, the owner, would make us ice cream sundaes.”
“With marshmallow sauce and cherries?”
“Yes.” I smiled. “I haven’t thought about that in years.”
“I wonder if he made those for all the local mobsters’ kids.” She laughed. “I’m surprised we never ran into one another while we were there.”
“We stopped going after my mother died,” I said. “It was her favorite restaurant, and my father couldn’t deal with the memories.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“A few years ago, Milo and I decided to go on her birthday. We keep up the tradition every year, but we don’t let the old man know.”
“I don’t remember your mother.”
“She died twelve years ago, so you would have been too young to remember when our families were civil to one another.”
“They weren’t always rivals?” She twirled some spaghetti around her fork.
“They didn’t start out as enemies.” I sipped the vodka from the glass Ricardo left by my platter. “But that was a long time ago.”
“Before your mom died?”
Before she was murdered.
“Which pasta is your favorite?” I asked, no longer wanting to discuss my mother and her untimely death.
“The penne in the vodka sauce.”
I appreciated that she took the hint.
“I like that one too.”
“What? We have that and the cheesecake in common?” She bit into a piece of bread. “And we’re not fighting? What a night.”
“I never would have guessed it.”
“It’s a good thing you saved my life at the auction or your life would be so boring.”
I could use a little boring.
The rest of the dinner conversation was light and uncomplicated. I asked her about NYU, and she inquired about the dealership. I appreciated the effort she put in to honor my request and take a break from our usual tension-filled banter. As much as I enjoyed sparring with her, I wasn’t in the mood tonight. I had too much on my mind.
“Are you okay?” She set her fork down. “You’re quiet.”
“Am I?” I finished another glass of vodka, silently thanking Ricardo for leaving the bottle. “I like listening to you talk.”
“That’s not true.” She swirled her finger around the rim of her glass. “Most times, you can’t wait for me to stop talking.”
“Do you want me to get another bottle of champagne?”
“No.” She held up her hand. “I’m so full.”
“Cheesecake?”
“Not now.” She shook her head. “I’ll explode.”
“You can afford to eat a little more.”
“I ate almost everything on my plate.”
“That was impressive.”
I liked that she didn’t pretend she wasn’t hungry or that she couldn’t eat the pasta because there were too many carbs in it like some other women I had gone on dates with. She surprised me.
I leaned back in my chair. Should I finish the bottle of vodka in front of me? It would help me sleep.
“Is it my fault?” Her voice took my attention away from the drink.
“Is what your fault?”
“Whatever is going on in your head?” She reached across the table and clasped her fingers in mine. “Is it because of me?”
“Why do you ask?”
“I just assumed—”
“Because you always have to be at the center of everything?”
“Is our truce over?”
“No.” I squeezed her hand. “Not yet.”
“I can see you have something serious on your mind. You don’t want to talk about it, but maybe if you told me, you’d feel better.”
“I don’t think so.”
“I’m here if you change your mind.” She shrugged. “It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”
“It isn’t entirely your fault.”
If I had been stronger, I would have turned her away. If I had done that, none of this would be happening now. I’d be home where I belonged, dealing with family business.
“Come here.” I let go of her hand and pushed my chair away from the table. “Sit with me.”
She tucked her hair behind her ear and smiled. When she walked to me, I pulled her into my lap, giving in to the urge to be close to her.
“I’ll figure this out.” I took her face between my hands and kissed her lips. “I promise.”
Taking my time to kiss her, I indulged in her mouth, but how much longer could I keep her with me? How much longer could I hide from the rest of the world?
She ran her hands across my shoulders. “You’re so tense. What can I do to make it better?”
“Are you sure you want to offer?” I brushed my lips along her mouth. “Because you might not like it.”