Chapter 2 – Penelope
“ S sshhwwweee, this is where they live?” I breathed.
The driver my uncle sent chuckled at my small town awe.
“Yeah, this is Signor Caravello’s house,” Enzo explained.
“This whole house? For three people?” I pressed my hand against the window, gaping at the sprawling lawn that was manicured to within an inch of its life. There was nothing natural, wild, or rugged about the landscaping. Everything was purposefully designed to fit together, and if it didn’t, it would be plucked out and burned.
“Well, there are spare rooms where some people stay over regularly,” the driver added.
Knowing my uncle had wealth and seeing it in front of me were two different things. I let out a long breath.
“Who stays over?” I tore my gaze away from the window and watched the expressions of the driver. He was very careful not to use a certain word around me. Part of the thirty-minute drive from the airport had been spent trying to make him admit the secret society I knew they were part of—the mob. The bugger hadn’t let slip the truth.
“Business associates,” Enzo said quickly.
Being the head of the mob was the big secret my uncle kept, something I wasn’t supposed to know. When my mother walked away from this life, she lost the connection to that world. I grew up knowing she had a brother who had a very important job in the construction business. Curious little thing that I was, I discovered what exactly my mother was avoiding by never coming back here to her hometown.
Not that hometown meant the same thing when talking about Detroit as it did when I referenced Carrington, North Dakota. This place was a concrete jungle. And Uncle Tito ruled part of it, which was pretty darn cool.
“What kind of business associates stay over?” I pressed. “Wouldn’t they have their own mansions on Park Place or Boardwalk?”
This time, the driver let out a deep belly laugh. I threw him a smirk.
“You’re cute,” Enzo teased.
My smile tightened. I wasn’t that cute, and I didn’t care for the insinuation that just because I was a country girl meant I was ignorant. I left my dead-end career in search of something more . Because dammit, I deserved to be seen, to be valued. I might be homegrown, but I wasn’t cute.
Play the game! I took a deep breath.
“Does your boss keep them working around the clock, so it’s easier if they sleep here?” I pressed, stabbing the seatbelt release. “Or is it some kind of commune. Like a cult?”
The driver only laughed harder.
Cult, mob, same thing. From my research, I knew Enzo was probably sworn to secrecy when he was Made. Wondering what this man would do if I admitted I knew all about my uncle’s illegal organization—and it didn’t matter where he got his money, so long as he shared in this hour of need—I was saved from blurting out whatever nonsense was on the tip of my tongue when a fluttering shape appeared on the front steps as the Cadillac stopped before the house.
“Poppy!” I shouted, launching from the fancy car that probably cost more than every vehicle I’d ever owned combined.
“Penny!” the girl squealed. She picked her way carefully down the steps, pretty white dress flowing around her like angel feathers.
Six years younger than me, it was hard to see my little cousin now as the high school graduate. She’d just finished kindergarten…yesterday!
I wrapped my arms around her, hauling her off the ground and twirling about. “You look like a cloud fallen straight from the sky, little mouse,” I teased, pressing a noisy kiss to the top of her head. “And you definitely grew since last summer!”
“Stop it, I have not,” Poppy gasped, trying to regain her breath. “I haven’t had a growth spurt since I was fourteen.”
“Wait!” I held up my hand dramatically, while still embracing her with the other. “You’re not turning thirteen this summer?”
“Penny!” she protested.
I cocked my head and narrowed my eyes. “And that’s not One Direction blasting from your bedroom? I swear I hear Zane!”
Poppy shoved me playfully. “You must have no access to the outside world on that farm of yours if you don’t know the band broke up. Years ago!”
“Oh, we have high speed internet on the ranch ,” I clarified. “But seriously, you look good, mouse.”
Whatever she was going to say dried up and shriveled in a moment as a drill sergeant in a tight pantsuit—with hair pulled back so tight it was a wonder it didn’t snap off—barked her name.
“New nanny?” I whispered.
Poppy nodded. “You’d think nineteen would be old enough not to have one. But,” she sighed and lifted those delicate, slight shoulders in a shrug, “it’s only temporary. The nicest part about getting married is that Signora Ferraro won’t be coming with me to my husband’s house.”
Time came to a screeching halt. I blinked at my cousin, who happened to be eye level with me due to the pretty little strappy sandals she wore.
Poppy suddenly looked young, and not because I was having a hard time seeing her as grown up. That dark chocolate hair curled delicately around her shoulders, and her big brown eyes glittered with shy excitement.
“Married?” I hissed. “You can’t be getting married.”
Poppy held up the ring, nearly gouging my eye out with the sheer size.
“I’m blind!” I yelped, slapping a palm on my chest and making her giggle.
The nanny squawked from the front door, but I took my time looping my arm around my cousin’s waist and moving back to the house at our own pace.
“Ssooo, my baby cousin is engaged,” I drawled, hiding the inability to process that behind humor. “What’s he like?”
Poppy’s smile faltered. “He’s a very desirable catch.”
The comeback I had for that didn’t fit. How did one joke about a marriage being a desirable catch? That wasn’t why people married. Drunk and Vegas with Elvis made more sense than that.
Clearing my throat, I tried again. “And he swept you off your feet, no doubt. I want all the details!”
“Well, there aren’t many,” Poppy started.
“Signorina, one does not rush out to greet guests in the driveway like a commoner,” the nanny snapped.
I felt my cousin’s body tense at the rebuke. Any chance of liking this particular nanny flew out the window. No one talked to my cousin that way.
Well, we’d played plenty of tricks on her nannies before. This one would be no different.
I stepped forward, putting myself between Poppy and the old battle axe. “Hiya there! I’m Penny Greenbriar, the country bumpkin—I mean, cousin! Pleasure to meet ya, ma’am.”
Snatching the withered stick the woman passed off as a hand, I shook it heartily. There was the delicious feel of her bones jarring in their sockets at the force of the handshake.
My abrupt and forceful greeting had the desired effect. The nanny stuttered.
“Well, I’m parched, cuz,” I droned, wrapping my arm protectively around Poppy’s shoulder. “Why don’t we head to the kitchen, and I’ll wet my whistle while you tell me all about your boyfriend—I mean, fiancé.”
Hiding her giggles, Poppy ducked beside me and we hurried inside.
“This way,” she breathed, drawing me down the halls to a gorgeous kitchen straight off the HGTV channel.
Every last detail of the space was pure luxury. The appliances had to be custom made. But the oddest part of the space was that there was no clutter. No piles of mail shoved to the side of the counter. No cardboard flats of bottled beverages that people could grab as they came and went. And no smell of anything homey.
I blew out a whistle of admiration. “This is where you live?”
Poppy continued to the fridge but paused to look back at me. “Well, yeah?”
“All this time, we meet up once or twice a year for family vacations at some remote location, and we could have been having big, old-fashioned Christmases here,” I sighed dreamily. I could just see the counter lined with cookie baking stations, a pot of cider simmering on the stove, the roast lamb in the oven slow-cooking and making it smell like a dream, while my siblings ran about the place.
Except…we don’t belong here.
Poppy was silent, no doubt having the same trail of thoughts.
I waved my hand. “But I loved the road trips to meet you guys at the national landmarks. There was always somewhere new to explore!”
The tension passed from my cousin’s face, and we fell into an easy conversation, reminiscing about the past.
“And how’s your papà and ‘em?” I drawled after a long drink of the lemonade she brought me.
“Papà is doing well!” Poppy beamed. She poured an ice-cold lemonade in a dainty glass cup. “Doctor said he’s never been healthier.”
If that girl had one flaw, it was that she was a major daddy’s girl.
I rubbed my chest, ignoring the ache there. I was the same. I adored my father, and I would do anything for him. Which was part of the reason I was here. He couldn’t help my mom, and it killed him. There was no room for dreading the awful moment when he found out his little girl was signing up for mob life. But it didn’t make it easier knowing he wouldn’t be happy with my decision. What was he going to feel when he found out why I was really here? Betrayal? I doubted Dad would understand.
But there’s no other way….
Mom’s brother could help—and I would make Uncle Tito listen to reason. With time, Dad would forgive me. He always did. The plans I had for being here revolved around knowing everything possible about my uncle. Men like him needed problems fixed. I didn’t have anything to bargain with other than my brawn and my determination.
Those two things had to be enough.
I gestured for my cousin to continue. “Where is zio?”
“He’s out, working,” Poppy rushed to say. “But he’ll be back for dinner later! And he’s bringing company.”
The clip-clomp of the nanny’s kitten heels announced her arrival. “I’ve had the butler take your bags to the room we’ve prepared for you, Signorina Greenbriar.”
I nodded. “Thanks! Mighty nice of ya, ma’am.”
The nanny pursed her lips, not hiding the assessing look as she gazed over my body. “Do you have something appropriate to wear, signorina?”
“What Signora Ferraro means,” Poppy stammered, “is that you look very nice—”
“For a farmer,” the nanny muttered in Italian.
She probably didn’t know I spoke my mother’s native tongue. We would keep it that way, since it was a newer development.
“—but dinner will be a more formal event.” Poppy clasped her hands in front of her. “I don’t think you’ll be able to fit in my clothes. So, we could go shopping if need be?”
Since my bank account was effectively under three figures, that was not happening. Actually, if things didn’t work out, if my uncle didn’t agree to my plans, he was going to have to loan me the ticket fare back to North Dakota if he didn’t want a more permanent house guest.
It will work out! I wasn’t settling for anything less.
“I have a sundress.” I smiled.
My cousin winced, and the nanny visibly shuddered.
“Paired with my jean jacket, it’s quite nice,” I added, refusing to let them make me feel bad for not being fancy. “Anyhow, tell me about this dinner? Are we expecting company?”
“Yes,” Poppy said quietly, twisting her hair. “My fiancé is coming.”
“Oh, goodie! I can’t wait to meet him.” Snatching the lemonade from the counter, I whisked Poppy away. “Show me the rest of the house!”