Chapter 4
Enzo
“You’re insane.” She stamped a thumb to her lips. “Am I right? You’re one hundred percent deranged!”
I shrugged, not at all offended by her words. “Maybe, but you’re still marrying me tomorrow.”
Mock humor evaporated from her face as she bared perfect white teeth. “Never! You hear me? I’ll never marry you!” Her cheeks reddened, and she gestured to the door with a pointed finger. “Get out!”
My jaw tightened. The urge to remind her whose house, whose bedroom she occupied—and how she in no way wielded the right to tell me what to do—surged through me when she huffed her way off the bed.
“I said get out!” She stomped her foot and grew redder if possible.
She needed time to adjust to the sudden news. Best to let her simmer… for now. Va bene , I’d cover a few errands before our big day. “I’ll have the maid bring you a bite to eat.”
Another strike of her determined foot. “Out!” She screeched, her voice raw and raspy.
At this rate, she’d lose her voice by tomorrow.
I almost smirked. Maybe a little enforced silence wouldn’t be so bad because another day of this screeching wouldn’t be good for either of us.
I raised my hands, encouraging her to calm down as I retreated to the entry.
Shutting the door quickly, I twisted the lock, as if escaping a caged lion.
The guards shot me a puzzled look, and I responded with a swift nod. Their jaws clenched in silent agreement, understanding she was not to leave this room under any circumstances. My steps faltered as I passed. I bet she had a bigger migraine now than when first awakening. “Bring her some aspirin.”
“Yes, Sir,” one replied, while the other nodded.
◆◆◆
I parked along the curb in front of the boutique store.
As I cut the engine, my fingers brushed the leather of the steering wheel, a sensation reminding me of the smoothness of Gemma’s skin.
Her soft wrists teased my palms even now.
The way she’d peered into my eyes, both wary and curious, tensed my body.
Indeed, her head all but exploded once I revealed my name written on the novelty board—
“Aren’t you going to switch off the indicator?” Carina’s voice puffed through the image of Gemma floating in my head, evaporating the memory like smoke. “You’ve left it running since the traffic lights.”
I flicked off the indicator, silencing its clicking.
Carina stepped out onto the paved path, the boutique’s window display catching the afternoon sun.
Three mannequins, all in different shades of green silk, stood frozen in poses of effortless elegance.
She finger-combed her burgundy bob before slipping on her sunglasses. “Back in a minute.”
A tinkling bell chimed as Carina pushed open the boutique door, momentarily cutting through the drone of traffic. Several cars hummed past my window as I scrolled through my phone to check the latest financial report.
My phone dinged, a reminder popping up: video conference .
Of course, the board of directors this afternoon.
Those snobby old men insisted on frequent meetings ever since my brother and I inherited our Grandfather’s global manufacturing company, skeptical of the new blood running the show.
We’d at last gained respect from the old hands and won their trust after five long years.
We worked hard to grow the company and increase our clientele through our social media marketing campaigns, which those long-timers knew nothing about.
Our efforts paid off in spades, and in the end we showed them all. My father would be proud.
I’d left every detail in his old office intact, a frozen memorial.
His sense of family and commitment might have been…
complicated, but in the family company, he’d created a legacy where my brother and I held our heads high.
I’d never considered myself more Cammarata than when running the family business.
Eager to revisit said office in Lombardy, I planned on traveling home once Gemma and I exchanged I do’s .
Sicily comprised too many enemies, bad memories, and horrible history.
Carina opened the passenger door, but paused. I adjusted the gun in my pocket. A problem? She slipped her sunglasses down her straight nose and confronted the road. Clearing her throat, she sidled inside the car and laid the garment bag across her lap.
“Do we need to go elsewhere?” I sure hoped not. The impulse to see Gemma grated me to no end.
“No, other than collecting the dress for the ceremony, I’m done here.” She peeled off her sunglasses and tossed them into her handbag. Nose tilted in the air, she swiveled my way. “Are you set for tomorrow?”
Not much to do. I owned a suit, the rings… now the bride. Rather than confirm her question, I chose this moment to drop the bomb. “I’m leaving for Lombardy once the ceremony is over.”
She cleared her throat. “Not so fast. My brother invited us to his sixtieth in a few weeks. I agreed we’d go.”
My grasp on the wheel tightened. “We?” Oh, how I loathed when she organized events without consulting us first. “Lucio and I have a company to run.”
“Forget the company.” She examined the side-view mirror. “I haven’t seen my family in thirty years, Enzo. My brother’s more forgiving than my Father… always has been.”
I worked my jaw, grinding my teeth. “Father snatched you away from them for a reason.”
Her lips curled in distaste.
The topic of my father all these years later left the woman bitter. I hissed under my breath. “Thanks to them, we have to carry weapons.”
Her nostrils flared, and she pinned me with a glare.
“My brother inherited the same enemies as my father, if not more. Lorenzo, whisking me away from my former life, changed nothing. I’m my father’s daughter.
His enemies are my enemies, and yours. One day, they’ll be your children’s enemies, too.
” She analyzed the side-view, then sat poised in her seat.
One hand kept on the wheel. I seized the gun in my pocket. “What?”
“I thought we were being followed. False alarm.” She slapped her hands over the garment bag in her lap. “Now, where was I? Right, I want to see my family. They want to meet you too, you and your brother. We will attend this event.”
Great, an evening amidst mafioso criminals loomed in my immediate future. My father, Lorenzo Cammarata, forbade her from contacting her mobster kin once they’d eloped; no problem there since Carina’s own father excommunicated her for rejecting Vito De Luca.
Lorenzo stemmed from ambitious men, Cammarata men, who built their legacy and branded a name for themselves. He abhorred my mother’s past, in particular the mafia’s dishonest lifestyle.
We hadn’t heard a peep from my mother’s side when my father died.
Had Carina tried reconciling with her own father before his own timely death?
My proud mother would never admit she regretted eloping with Lorenzo Cammarata.
Perhaps if she had listened to her father, married someone from her world, she would have been happier.
Yes, she’d have been a mobster’s wife—but perhaps a happier version of one.
What if her life had turned out better than her current existence?
Could she have had power, respect, and a modicum of contentment instead of this simmering, ever-present resentment?
Her phone buzzed, and she answered on the second ring. “ Va bene . No, don’t bring her to the villa. Go to the address I sent. Have her ready tomorrow.” She ended the call and grinned.
Her hired men had called nonstop, for sure keeping her posted with their every move. “Good news?”
“Your future mother-in-law’s here.” She smirked, no different from the cat who stole the cream… or, in this case, the mother of the bride. “All our hard work’s about to pay off.”
So our men shipped Elisabetta Russo back from Australia. Let the games begin.
In the rearview, a black car pursued us. Two men occupied the front, and another in the back middle seat. I extracted the gun from my pocket. “You’re right. We’re being followed.”
Carina surveyed the rear window. “Those unscrupulous De Lucas!” She wrenched her purse, brandishing her own gun. “ Fretta , Enzo.”
I merged onto the exit, aware the deserted dirt road led to Messina’s open plains and hilltop scenery.
“Why go this way?” She scolded, loading her gun.
“You’d rather risk us getting stuck in traffic?
” Not to mention this route saved civilians caught in the mess.
If one of these lowlifes shot at me, guaranteed I’d shoot back, and had done so many times before, but I refused to risk bystanders; this good conscience trait had to stem from my father’s side, considering Carina displayed little to no sympathy for the innocent lives of others.
Telephone poles and grassy hills greeted us ahead.
She hit the side button and the tinted glass lowered.
Wind whipped her hair and the roar of the chase flooded the car.
Carina fixed her gaze on the side mirror, cold and calculating, a sniper sizing up its target.
She wanted De Lucas to know who was in control, by toying with their pursuit, fueled by a loathing that ran deeper than bullets.
I flexed my fingers over the wheel, swiping my tongue across my teeth. As a young boy, I feared for my mother when faced in these scenarios, but experience taught me the woman owned nine lives and a bravery not even found in grown men.
She fired rapid shots from within the car, her focus tight on the side mirror. Each shot punctuated the ping of metal on metal. Her voraciousness epitomized the cold, simmering rage of a woman wronged, and who grew determined to inflict her own brand of pain.
Bullets hurled back. One shattering my side mirror.
My ears rang, and the car lurched, the impact shaking us both.
Carina swore a string of rapid Italian curses, but kept her hands steady as she gripped her gun.
She balanced her gun on the window’s edge, just enough for it to peek out into the open, and fired another round, blowing their tire.
I hit the gas, gaining speed. Their black car shrunk into no more than a small dot in my rearview.
Once back on the main road, I merged onto the highway.
Now we’d endure a longer drive to the villa, thanks to those De Lucas.
Carina slumped back in her seat, her cold mask unflinching. “News we’re back in town has circulated. We have to be extra vigilant from now on.”
A clear example of why I hated this place. If this constituted our welcome home party, I grew more determined to leave.
She shot me a pointed stare. “You may not have grown up in the famiglia , but mafia blood runs through your veins. Be thankful I trained you to protect yourself, rather than leave you vulnerable in this world.”
But she had left me vulnerable. I bit my tongue, stopping myself from spilling the reminder, not wanting to worsen her mood. As for training me to protect myself, no—she trained me to kill. The memory slammed into me, raw and immediate, the scent of wet concrete filling my nostrils.
“Run, Enzo,” mamma called from behind. Heavy rain pelted our bodies and soaked into our clothes. We raced up the cold, dark alley behind my father’s factory, our footfalls splashing in puddles. My heart caught in my throat at the solid brick wall. A dead end.
I spun to her. Raindrops splattered down my neck. “There’s nowhere to go.”
Mamma shoved me into a corner and slapped her gun into my hand.
“What are you doing?” I sank down. My tweed coat scratched the brick at my back. My pants soaked the instant my bottom hit the dirty, drenched concrete.
“Quiet.” She stacked folded cardboard boxes over me and backed away. “Whatever happens, keep quiet.”
A loud shout in the distance boomed.
I flattened my cheek on the brick and stole a peek between the gap.
Spine straight, fists by her sides, she whirled to the man.
“Useless to run, Carina.” His voice. Deep, scratchy, like those men who smoke those stinky cigars with Pa.
“Vito, don’t do this.” She stood her ground, unblinking against the harsh rain, her voice steady.
“Too late.” The strange man sounded remorseful, almost defeated. “This is what you get for choosing him over me. Now look at you… pathetic. If you’d chosen me, Carina, I’d have given you the world.”
A loud bang resounded.
No! I smothered my scream.
Mamma tumbled backward and hit the wall. A red circle on her tan coat grew larger, extending over her abdomen. She sank to the concrete, her gaze centered ahead on the man. “I know you would have.” Her body lopped sideways.
“Come out!” The raspy voice shouted. “You, back there, out!”
I blinked out of the flashback, Vito De Luca’s voice still echoing in my mind.
That night changed everything, robbed me of my innocence.
I later learned Vito had been engaged to my mother before her elopement with my father.
Their betrothal united two enemy families…
for a short period anyway, until my parents ran off together.
My mother’s betrayal heightened the family vendetta, altering the lives of generations to come.
Carina believed we inherited enemies like any other fortune.
Yes, we’d encountered danger on numerous occasions, but I boasted of being a Cammarata, anything but a Calafiore.
Despite Carina’s constant reminder of how mafia blood traveled through my veins, I’d rather die than consider myself a member of her family.