Chapter 32
Tommaso
We’ve just finalized the creation of the Chamber at Gilly’s and are toasting to our prosperous future together.
Marco comes over after taking a phone call, and the look on his face makes me set my bourbon down and stand.
“What is it, Marco?”
Zeus and Tomas stand as well, reaching for their weapons, given my rigidity.
“We need to go, Tommaso,” he says hurriedly. “Papà, Arturo, and Rosa just arrived at your house.”
“Fuck.”
Zeus grips my arm, stopping me. “Everything okay? Do you need the Havoc Guardians to chip in to help already?”
The last part is said in jest, but I see the serious offer in his eyes.
“Not at the moment, but I’m not turning down that offer in the future.”
He nods and drops his hand, and I race out of Gilly’s with Marco.
“What the hell is going on?” I demand, sprinting for my car and getting in. The tires squeal before he even gets his door shut, and I’m racing through the city streets to get to my house as soon as fucking possible.
“The guards let Papà in when he threatened them. Adolfo and Jerome tried to stall him, but…”
“Gina?”
“It’s not good.”
My jaw flexes, and my hand white-knuckles the steering wheel as he relays what Jerome called to report what happened.
“Fuck.” I hit the steering wheel. “Fuck!”
We had no idea our father was coming. Riccardo didn’t call to give us a heads up, which I know he would’ve. Which means he was kept in the dark.
But why? And why the surprise visit? With Arturo and Rosa in tow?
We’re silent as I just about kill us twice getting home as fast as I can.
We race down the street, toward the gates, which the guards thankfully have open for us.
I roar through them and up the drive, my tires squealing as I slam to a stop in front of the house.
I jump out of my car, taking the steps three at a time.
Adolfo opens the door for me with a grave look on his face.
“Where is she?” I demand.
“Your bedroom.”
But I don’t make it far before Rosa flies out from the sitting room on the right and slaps my face. “You bastard!” she shrieks.
Outwardly, I remain calm and in control, even though I’m vibrating with rage and urgency to get to my wife and explain.
Jesus Christ, my house of cards hasn’t just fallen down, it’s blazing like an inferno while it crumbles.
“I won’t stand for being disrespected, Tommaso!” Rosa screams and stomps her foot. “I won’t!”
“Calm down, Rosa,” Arturo barks. “You speak only when spoken to.”
“Daddy,” she whines and whirls to him, her hair flying to whip my face.
My father steps out of the sitting room, holding a glass of red wine. His look is unreadable, but he’s not my main concern. Gina, my queen, is.
When I stride past them, he barks a harsh command, “Stop.”
I turn, not bothering to hide my anger. “I don’t have time for this.”
That makes Rosa shriek again. “Don’t have time? I’m your wife—”
“No. You’re. Not,” I grit through clenched teeth, giving her a menacing look.
She falters and smooths her hand over her hair. “Well, yes, of course, not yet.”
“Not ever.” I unclench my fisted hands. “I can’t marry you as I’m already married.”
She snorts and rolls her eyes. “Whatever.” She waves her hand and looks to Arturo. “Daddy, fix this.”
“We need to talk.” My father flashes a look at Marco, who’s standing by my side, knowing that he’s my accomplice. Then he strides back into the sitting room, expecting me to follow. Arturo and Rosa follow him, and it’s only Marco and Adolfo left with me.
“If he strips you of your power, you can’t protect Gina,” Marco says quietly. “We need to stabilize the situation and have time to move her if required.”
“She’s not leaving.”
“We need to stabilize the situation,” he insists in a hissed whisper.
“She’s not leaving,” I repeat.
Adolfo steps closer. “Jerome is upstairs with Salvo, guarding her door. Gina is safe inside, and they won’t allow anyone in or let her leave.”
I’m trapping her, keeping her here, but it can’t be helped. I need her to be safe while I fix this.
“Etta?” I ask.
“With Gina in her room,” he says.
At least she’s not completely alone. I know that Etta won’t divulge anything she knows to Gina, but it eases some of my angst, knowing that Gina has her there for emotional support.
Relaxing my rigid posture, I slap my mask on, schooling my features to be unreadable, and walk into the sitting room.
Arturo sits with his legs crossed on the brocade sofa.
My father stands, his wine sitting on the table; he might look calm, but I can sense his brewing wrath.
Rosa walks around the room, her long, red nails grazing over the frame of a beautiful watercolor painting of the sun beaming down on the landscape below.
It was one I had bought a year ago from an up-and-coming artist, loving the warmth and radiance captured in the piece, wanting that warmth to fill my home. Just like Gina had when she came into my life.
Rosa turns to me, her nose scrunched in distaste. “I’ll replace all the no-name pieces with more reputable artists.”
My jaw ticks, wanting to toss her out onto her ass. Instead, I focus on my father. “You forged my signature on the marriage contract. Why?”
Arturo smirks, telling me, this isn’t news to him. He knew what my father had done. Rosa hadn’t though, and her eyes narrow into slits.
“Daddy?” she hisses, but he waves her off, silencing her. To him, women are shiny trophies or a beautiful ornament—to be seen and not heard. The misogynistic twat.
“The contract is final,” my father says. “You had your chance to contest it.”
The tick in my jaw grows. “I’m already married.”
Arturo leans toward me with a glare. “The whore was telling the truth?”
“She is not a whore,” I seethe, momentarily letting my control slip before I rein it in.
Rosa is pale, looking between us, but says again to her father, “Daddy. Fix this.”
“She’ll be killed.” Arturo stands. “Problem solved.”
I surge into him, fisting his throat, ready to rip it out. It takes both my father and Marco to pull me away.
“Control yourself, figlio.”
I glare at him, hating that he put me in this position. But hating myself more that I hadn’t called him on his bullshit before now. Hating that I’ve lied to the woman who is my world. Who is upstairs, locked in our bedroom, likely thinking I was just using her.
I step back from Arturo, and calm settles within me. It’s not fake or forced; it’s authentic, as I remember the report Johnathan had given me.
“Our marriage is legal.”
“Even if it is, that can be fixed,” Arturo grinds out.
“If you touch a hair on my wife’s head, I’ll slaughter you.” My words are spoken as if I just told him we were having pasta alla norma for dinner.
“Tommaso,” my father warns, stepping closer, likely to stop me from attacking this piece of shit standing in my home.
Arturo snorts a laugh. “You and what army, boy?” He looks at my father, then back to me. “Stefano backs this alliance, and he’s Don. You’re just his puppet here in the States. You can’t fucking touch me.”
“I can if you harm or even threaten my wife as per ‘Ndrangheta law.”
My father clamps his hand on my shoulder, a question or maybe a warning on his face.
“Gina is pregnant. She’s carrying my heir.”
Rosa’s gasp breaks the silence that my bombshell announcement caused. “It’s a bastard.” Her voice quivers. “Even if she is pregnant, they won’t recognize it.”
Even if Gina wasn’t my wife, if I claimed the child she carried as mine, in the eyes of the ‘Ndrangheta, it would still stand. Heirs are sacred to us.
I don’t bother to explain this to Rosa; if she doesn’t know, then I don’t give a shit about enlightening her.
Her eyes are wide with panic as she stares at her father. “Vincenzo won’t allow this. He wouldn’t.”
Which brings us to the delicate situation that they know Gina is here, while everyone thinks she’s missing. And based on Rosa’s comment, I suspect they know Vincenzo has been searching for her.
Are they in league with Caruso, too? What the hell is the endgame here? And why the fuck is my father involved?
He’s a criminal leader, cold and ruthless when it’s required. But he raised us with a code of honor and morals. Put us through trials and tests while we rose through the ranks of our family to get the positions we hold.
Arturo is a snake. He doesn’t give a shit about anything except accruing more power and wealth.
My hand slips into the pocket of my jacket, feeling the bullet on the leather strap.
Normally, if I order a man’s death, or I kill him myself, it’s done after deliberation, unless it’s in the heat of a battle.
It’s never a knee-jerk, emotional decision.
But with Arturo, and anyone else who’s a threat to my wife, I’ll kill without hesitation.
I’ll rip them to shreds with my bare hands, letting the unhinged beast within me rule.
My father’s eyes dip to my hand in my pocket, knowing the talisman I keep in there and its significance. He gives a slight shake of his head, his brow pinched in a frown.
“Vincenzo will be very interested to know you have Gina, Tommaso,” Arturo says, pulling my attention back to him. “Particularly interested in why you lied to him.”
He confirms that Vincenzo confided in him that he asked me to search for Gina.
He tuts, shaking his head. “Lying to the head of the ‘Ndrangheta does not bode well for you, boy.”
My teeth grind at him calling me boy, reminding me that I don’t have true power.
Not within our syndicate at least. I don’t get a vote.
When the Dons are deciding on things that impact the whole, they vote, and the Pisani Don’s vote, as the founding family, carries more weight.
If they voted, they’d need four Dons in favor, along with Vincenzo’s vote to make it a majority.
He turns to my father. “Control your dog. I expect him to be leashed and this problem to be fixed. The marriage between Rosa and Tommaso will happen.” His words are laced with warning. “Or do I need to remind you what will happen?”
His threat confirms that my father isn’t willingly going along with this arrangement to merge our two families.
Arturo grips Rosa’s elbow, making her stumble, then pulls her toward the door.
“Daddy, where are we going?” She tries to dig in her heels. “I’m not leaving this house. It’s mine!”
He flashes me a lethal look, then glares at my father. “Fix this,” he seethes, then pulls Rosa out of the sitting room.
We’re silent as she screams her protests until the front door slams.
I don’t look at my father as I storm toward the doorway and go to my wife.
“Stop,” he orders.
“No, Papà,” I grit.
“Tommaso.” His voice is softer. “Please, figlio.”
I turn to him, fisting my hands. “Why did you do it? What does he have over you?”
He looks weary. “You don’t understand what’s at stake here.”
“Then fucking tell me,” I shout, losing control.
He doesn’t admonish; he doesn’t remind me that a strong leader keeps emotions out of it. He just picks up his wineglass off the table and goes to the window, looking out at the storm unleashing outside.
“Tell me,” I say more calmly. “Or else I’m going to see my wife to ensure she’s alright.”
He remains silent with his back to me. I look at Marco, and my brother nods toward the door, telling me to go and that he’ll try to talk to our father.
Fisting my hands, I leave the room, preparing myself to face my wife and reveal all the dirty secrets and hard truths I’ve been keeping from her.