11. Giulia
I wasn’t sure if Renzo took my intel to heart. He had to believe me, that there was a connection between his brother’s death and my father’s. They’d died so close together and so similarly that it couldn’t be a coincidence. I’d never really believed in those, anyway.
I lacked another chance to sneak away and meet up with him again.
Half of the urgency to see him was to check whether I was going crazy, if I was imagining this pull to want to be near him all the time. The other half of my wish to approach him was for answers.
I understood that he wanted to find Luka’s killer. But now, it was irrevocably tied to me, too. Because if someone killed my father and attempted to murder my mother as a means of taking over the Acardi name, and me, I wanted to be prepared.
“I’m telling you,” Uncle Dario insisted after I saw my sisters to bed. He sipped his drink in the library then shook his head. Bags lined under his eyes. Bloodshot and tired, he looked three times his age, and I felt terrible that he felt so stuck about our circumstances.
He couldn’t be the head of our bloodline. After his injuries, he had to accept the fact that he’d never have children, and as such, the Acardi name would die out with him. I knew he was frustrated. I saw it every time he spoke with my father or mother about important matters. He’d been pushed back, delegated as a useless Family member, but right now, in this week after Father died, he’d been a sounding board for me.
Mother stayed in her room. She had been cleared and discharged from the hospital, but other than the watered down funeral for Father, she complained of headaches and needing to stay in bed.
Which left me with Uncle Dario to figure out how to move forward.
Except, he remained lodged at square one, refusing to reconsider who could’ve killed Father.
“Renzo Bernardi killed Rocco,” he insisted.
“I don’t agree.” I crossed my arms.
He narrowed his eyes, tracking me as I paced. “Why?”
I glanced at him. “What do you mean, why?”
“He’s no friend of yours.”
I resisted a cringe. False.
“You don’t know him.”
Again, I fought the urge to show my feelings about that remark. I want to know everything about him. The little I’d been treated to so far rocked my world. He could both make me explode with pleasure and just be there and comfort me without any expectations in return.
“Neither do you,” I shot back. “The only reason you’re fixated on accusing him as Father’s killer is because you overheard Giovanni Bernardi ask him to avenge Luka. He didn’t tell him to specifically kill Father, did he?”
Uncle Dario smirked. “No.” He knew he’d been jumping to conclusions and thinking he heard something that hadn’t actually been said. “But they hate us. The Bernardis have always been our enemies and always will.”
But why? No one would ever fucking explain why. “Because…?”
“I don’t remember the details, and whatever bad blood happened in the past hardly matters.” He glowered at the ceiling, as though he wished he could bore a hole through walls and scorch my mother in her room. “Because she will always make sure they remain enemies.”
I considered his perspective. “Wait. Has my mother accused the Bernardis of killing Father and drugging her?” He’d talked with her the most since she came home from the hospital, bossing him around. She banned me from “bothering” her during her unnecessary bedrest.
But that doesn’t make sense. The same drug was used on Luka, and that would have to imply that someone with the Bernardis wanted Luka dead.
“No. But she loathes them. Always has, for the ‘principle’ of it, as she says.” He lowered his head into his hand and rubbed his face. “Let’s say Renzo didn’t kill Rocco.”
I nodded.
“That fucker would still know something. Giovanni would too. Renzo’s been seeking answers, determined to figure out who killed his brother. He’s got to know something by now.”
If he does, how would we know? He wouldn’t dare sneak into the house again. Not after the uptick in security after Father’s death and Mother’s drugging incident.
“And I’m not sure I would trust what he says, anyway.”
I would. I do. It happened quickly, but I knew that Renzo wasn’t the enemy he should be. We were in this together, somehow, and I planned to consider him an ally until something or someone suggested I shouldn’t.
“Which is why I think you should try to spy on him.”
I blinked wide, staring at him. “ Me ?”
He nodded. “I received word that Renzo and Giovanni are meeting with the Romanos at the club.”
I didn’t need him to say which one. It was the neutral meeting grounds where all the Mafia men stopped to chat or see dancers. I’d found Renzo there, taking a chance that he might be there so I could tail him and hide and wait in his car.
“And…” I narrowed my eyes.
“Disguise yourself as a dancer.” He glanced around as though he worried someone could overhear. “And spy on them. The Bernardis and Romanos. Get information, Giulia. We cannot continue with this cluelessness.”
It sounded like a ridiculous plan, but as soon as I envisioned pulling this off, I was excited to take the risk. I wasn’t sure I could be a covert spy, but I would use this as an opportunity to get close to Renzo and speak with him.
“You want me to spy on the Bernardis meeting with the Romanos?”
He nodded. “Just listen in. We need answers, and I don’t know who else to trust to get them.”
“I’ll do it.” I wasn’t sure if I kept the excitement out of my reply, but I prepared to leave anyway. A former maid’s daughter danced there, and once I arranged to meet up with her, she quickly got me into a costume and helped me figure out which of the private rooms Renzo might be in.
Suited in a revealing outfit and hiding behind a masquerade-like mask, I joined the other dancer who’d been requested to that private room. As I followed her, nervous and excited, I worried that I couldn’t pull this off. Lap dances? Gyrating on men?
Whatever. I wasn’t a prude. While I had to remain a virgin until marriage, I’d seen my fair share of porn and naughty videos. My mother insisted on giving me an in-depth lesson of sex education when I was fifteen—to prepare me for what would be expected, she’d claimed.
Still, when the doors opened and I joined the other dance in the room, nerves hit hard.
The lamps were set low, but the spotlights blinded me. They were directed to the area between the lounge chairs where the men sat, and I knew that was where I’d be expected to perform.
Following the lead of the other dancer, I mimicked her swaying and sinuous motions. It was all a glorified attempt to grind against the man while thrusting my breasts out. Nothing too complicated.
The second I spotted Renzo, though, I lost my confidence.
He stared at me, locked on my eyes, and I watched as he tensed. His hands sat on the armrests and he dug his fingers into the plush surface. As he clenched his jaw, he exhaled short, quick breaths, nostrils flaring, fury shining in his eyes.
He’d spotted me, all too quickly, and I knew the ruse was up.
Nickolas was oblivious, seated across the open space. While I was grateful it was just the two of them here, with the standard pair of bodyguards standing in the back, Renzo’s presence threw me off.
I wanted to speak with him. I wanted to entice only him, but I was stuck in this role now.
Nickolas and Renzo carried on their conversation as I danced with the other woman, but after a while, their conversation dried up. Nickolas’s leery focus was pulled from their chat about some drug business.
He stared at us dancing, and when he beckoned me closer with a curl of his finger, I did my best not to panic.
No. I quickly sidestepped, letting the other dancer mistake his summons and go to him.
“Wait. I want that one,” Nickolas said, shaking his head at me as I backed up toward Renzo. Nickolas patted his lap and spread his legs out. Between his fingers, he held dollar bills. “Come on.”
Renzo grabbed me. His fingers wrapped firmly around my wrist as he tugged me back, but I fell, startled and unbalanced on my feet.
“Yeah, help yourself to the clumsy one,” Nickolas taunted. He grabbed the other dancer’s hair and fisted it as he pushed her to the floor. “Suck me, bitch.”
Renzo caught me, hauling me onto his lap. This close to him again, I was safe. Under his hold, even though he gripped me too tightly, likely furious, I was secure.
I was right where I wanted to belong, but the tic on his face revealed how tense he was.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he whispered into my ear as I danced on his lap, leaning back to his chest.
“I…” I couldn’t speak. Nickolas might recognize my voice. It was a stupid worry. He wasn’t paying attention to me or Renzo. As the woman took his cock into her mouth, he groaned and forced her head to bob over his length faster.
Would Renzo expect me to do the same? Here? Like this? I hadn’t counted on having to get this physical. And while I wanted Renzo so badly, I didn’t want to risk taking my mask off. Nickolas had already removed the other dancer’s.
“I… I need to go.” I didn’t wait for permission. Scared of all the guards in here, and so near Nickolas, I succumbed to the churn of anxiety and fear in my gut.
Even though Nickolas seemed appeased, what if he turned to me next? What if?—
No. Panic claimed me, and after I scrambled to my feet, stuck with the pressing feeling that I couldn’t breathe fast enough, I ran out of the room.
Breathing hard, I shoved my hair away from my face and ran.
Pounding footsteps chased after me. I should’ve counted on it.
They all rushed after me, and I whimpered with terror as I sprinted.
Renzo was right on my heels, but behind him were the furious Romano guards. They must have alerted others, because another man ambushed me around the corner, holding me captive.
The two guards with Renzo were no longer there. Nor were the original two Romano guards who’d been in that private room.
Captured and pulled outside to an alley, I struggled and kicked to get free.
“Release her,” Renzo ordered.
The metal door clanged shut, and the guard dropped me. I fell to the pavement roughly. My knees stung. My palms ached. But I stopped my fall before getting hurt any further. On my knees, I stared up at Renzo as he stood between me and the two Romano guards.
“What the fuck is going on?” one demanded.
“Is she a spy?” the other asked, pointing his gun at us.
Renzo wasn’t slow on the uptake. He brought his gun out, aiming it right back at him. “Leave her to me.”
“She’s a fucking spy.” The first, taller Romano, sneered. “Bringing extra backup to a confidential meeting with the Boss, huh?”
“She’s not a spy,” Renzo growled, countering the guards as they tried to approach me around him.
“Take off your mask, whore,” the second one ordered.
“Just grab her,” the other said, waving his gun to gesture for his partner to pull me off the ground.
I scrambled closer to Renzo, hiding behind him.
With my heart lodged in my throat, my side stitching with the need to breathe faster, I clung to Renzo and did my best not to pass out from the dizzying, nauseating hit of panic.
“Just—”
Renzo fired, hitting the guard who reached for me and yanked me by my hair.
“You motherfuck—” Another gunshot ended whatever the other Romano soldier would’ve tried to shout.
Renzo fired twice more, sinking bullets in their heads.
Then he turned to me, furious. His eyes glittered with rage as he lowered to haul me into his arms, then over his shoulder, and ran.