Chapter 24
KARINA
“You did what?” I yell.
My brain is short-circuiting. I’ve never been so pissed. Anger and adrenaline pump through me so hard, I can’t think straight.
“Tell me this is some kind of sick joke,” I say. “Because there’s no way you’re serious.”
Marco presses his lips into a flat line, his eyes darting to the locked door of the empty conference room he brought me to so we could have this discussion in private. “Keep your voice down, Karina.”
“Are you crazy?”
He shrugs like all of this is no big deal. “Maybe a little.”
“Maybe a lot. Why did you do this? What could possibly possess you to throw your entire family under the bus like that? Not to mention this could be the end of your racing career.”
I’m breathing hard, my hands shaking. I was in the middle of working on a few low-priority tasks for Frankie in the winery when Marco showed up out of nowhere with a handwritten note saying that he needed me to go with him to the Bellanti Vineyards offices.
He wouldn’t tell me what was going on, but on our walk over to the offices, we improv-acted a fake conversation—for my uncle’s eavesdropping benefit—about how I needed to find a bunch of old purchase orders for Frankie that were stored in Marco’s office.
Once we got to the office, he loudly explained which drawers of the filing cabinet I should search and then silently gestured for me to take my ring off and leave it on his desk.
Then he proclaimed that he’d be back in a few minutes, slammed the door for audio effect, and led me to this conference room, where I just got a full rundown of exactly what he’s been doing all day.
Apparently, after he snuck out of our bed this morning without leaving me a word or a note or even a text, he took it upon himself to drive all over Northern California meeting with representatives from other mob families—and bartering for their loyalty.
As well as taunting Pietro with a sick bet, one that both of their racing careers are now riding on.
I don’t know what shocked me more: The fact that the entire Bellanti legacy is now on the line thanks to my idiot husband, or that my idiot husband is actually getting behind the wheel of another race car at three o’clock this afternoon.
The moment he made me take my ring off, I knew that whatever Marco had to tell me was going to be bad.
But I never thought it would be this bad.
“What if you lose that race?” I ask. “What will your brothers say?”
“I’m not going to lose,” Marco says coolly. “Everything’s going to be fine.”
“Right. Keep telling yourself that,” I seethe.
This is not just a bad idea. It’s the worst idea.
Does my husband not realize how lucky he and his brothers were to return home in one piece after ambushing my uncle and his men at the warehouse?
Marco should be grateful they’re all alive, and happy to keep his head down for a while, but no.
Not my husband. Nope, instead he decides he needs to stuff himself back into a death machine and race against the man who is most likely responsible for sabotaging his car and almost killing him the last time they competed against each other.
I’m debating going straight to Dante right now to tell him everything.
He’d fix this. He’d stop Marco from racing, and call off the deal with the other families (and with Pietro). Marco might be mad at me for a long time for ratting him out, but at least he’ll be alive. And Bellanti Vineyards won’t be at stake.
My husband hitches a brow as if he knows exactly what I’m thinking. “Forfeiting the race is exactly the same as losing, Karina. If I don’t race, I don’t win, and the other families still get their shares of the winery. There’s no backing out of this.”
“Your brothers are going to kill you, you know.”
“Oh, I know. Which is why I need you to look at these legal docs.” Opening the thick file folder that he brought here from his office, he adds, “I met with my lawyer earlier, and—”
“Marco, stop! Whatever it is, I don’t want to see it. You can’t do this.”
“I can,” he says, reaching to take my hand. “And I am.”
“No.” Shaking my head, I take in a wobbly breath, tears filling my eyes.
“It’s going to be okay. There will be eyes on my car around the clock, and guards posted at every entrance to the garage. No one gets in that doesn’t belong there. I’ll be safe this time. I promise.”
“You don’t know that.”
Pulling my hand away, I cross my arms tightly over my chest. I can’t believe this is happening. My life with this man is an ever-expanding spiderweb that never stops growing more precarious. One day, we will be completely trapped by it.
“Karina,” he says gently. “Please, I need you to look at this.”
I watch as he opens the file, tugs out a stack of paper, and slides it across the conference table toward me.
“What is it?” I ask, my voice full of defeat.
“I updated my will.”
“Marco!”
“Shh, just listen, please. My accident made me realize how easily things can go wrong, and I want to be prepared this time. That’s why I had everything laid out in writing. If something happens to me, if this race doesn’t end well…or if I die, this will tell you what to do.”
He tries to hand me the will, but I don’t take it. My gaze tracks slowly from the papers up to his eyes. My young, healthy, beautiful, and also infuriating husband is making death plans. And I’m supposed to sit here calmly and accept it. I understand that things like this need to be done, but God…
Swallowing hard, I snatch the paper from him and start to read.
His last wishes are outlined in careful detail, everything from the type of funeral he wants to where he will be laid to rest in the family plot to who will inherit all his financial assets and personal items. He’s made me the executor.
“You don’t have to do this, Marco.”
“What? Leave everything I have to you, or compete in the race?”
I glare at him. “Both.”
He flips to another page. “This is where it states that the other mob families will own a combined majority share of the winery business if I lose. My brothers won’t be out on their asses, since they’ll still have this house and the stables and the livestock…
plus the rest of the acreage on the property that’s not the vineyard.
And they’ll still be receiving a portion of the winery profits, too. A much smaller portion, but—”
“It’s not just about the money,” I tell him.
“Bellanti Vineyards won’t be a family business anymore.
Those other families will have a controlling interest, which means they can vote to fire your brothers from their jobs or even sell off the whole winery if they feel like it.
And even if they don’t, the company will be sliced into pieces of pie. Your brothers will only get slivers.”
“It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
Setting the papers aside, I run a hand over my forehead. “Yeah, but it’s a risk you’re taking behind everyone else’s back. Win or lose, you’ve betrayed them already by putting your family legacy on the line.”
Marco comes around the desk and drops to one knee in front of my chair, looking up into my eyes pleadingly.
“I’m going to win this race. I’m going to drive Pietro off the circuit and out of our lives for good.
And when all’s said and done, we will have the protection and support of almost every other major crime family in California and even beyond. ”
I can’t wrap my head around what’s happening.
He continues flipping through the document, showing me the changes he made to his last will, the list of passwords for his email and bank account and other online accounts.
There are a couple of beneficiary forms for me to sign, which I do absently.
Finally, he gathers all the paperwork and slips it back into the folder.
“I’m going to put this in the safe in my office,” he says. “And we are going to hope that it stays there for a very, very long time.”
I just look at him because I have no words left. The adrenaline is beginning to fade, leaving me empty and tired. So tired.
When we get back to his office, he hands my ring back, making a point to tell me his “meeting” with Dante went great and to ask if I was able to find the purchase orders I was looking for. I coldly tell him I wasn’t, and then stalk over to the window, still seething.
Marco comes to my side and we stand there in silence, looking out at the view of the Bellanti estate, lush and green and perfect. When I’ve calmed down enough, I turn to him and cup his face, silently praying for him to back out.
“Take the day off tomorrow,” I finally say, not caring if my uncle hears me begging my husband not to race. I’m sure Uncle Sergio knows all about Pietro’s bet with Marco by now anyway. “You’re still healing. Please, Marco. Don’t race.”
But he’s not going to listen to me. I can tell by the way his eyes burn with urgency and fire. His fuel is beating Pietro. Knowing it doesn’t take away the terror living inside me, though.
He kisses me on the forehead. “I’m going to turn in early tonight. I have to meet my team at the garage at 6 a.m. We have a lot of ground to cover before the race.”
I look away.
Marco takes my chin and kisses me again. “Will you come to the track, Karina?”
“How can you even ask that?” The words snap out of me. He winces but I don’t feel bad for wounding him. “I watched your car flip over and burst into flames. I thought you were dead.”
Marco bows his head. “I understand.”
I sigh. “Of course I’ll be there, you asshole.”
His voice is soft but pleased. “Okay. See you at the garage tomorrow.”
He kisses me again, and I don’t fight it. My heart is shattered but Marco is still the man I love. I let a few tears fall before I break away from him.
“No dying allowed,” I whisper.
“You got it.”
As I head back to the winery alone, I keep looking down at my engagement ring. It should be a symbol of Marco’s love, of our union, our unbreakable bond. Instead, it’s a symbol of my entrapment.
Anger surges inside me again, but with more pain and heat than before.
My family pushed Marco to this. The raid wasn’t enough to beat them down, and Marco knows my uncle will soon regroup and come back stronger than before.
So rather than prepare for the Brunos to make their next move, my husband decided to try to fix things the only way he knew how.
And now all of us will have to live with the consequences.