Chapter 35 Lena
LENA
No one defies Aldo Cerreti. That is immediately clear.
It doesn’t matter how much Lorenzo tries to physically prevent Rem’s uncle from corralling me out of the suite, or how much Johnny argues with his capo when he sees what’s happening.
Mr. Cerreti—Aldo, as he insists I call him—is polite, quiet, and forcefully resolute about what is going to happen next.
With a few clipped words in Italian, he forces Lorenzo to step aside and Johnny stares at the ground, jaw flexing in thwarted anger. I have no idea what their capo says, but I do hear him mention Rem’s name. At that, Johnny’s concerned eyes fly to mine.
That display of emotion lasts less than a heartbeat. Gone as fast as it came, Johnny gives Aldo a sharp nod and makes a phone call. To my husband, I can only assume, but I’m already being escorted down the hotel corridor before the call connects.
I don’t even have time to grab my bag, shoes, or coat.
An oversight Aldo picks up on with a sideways glance, his gait shortened to match mine as we head to the elevator bank.
I barely catch the gesture he sends one of his guards, who then gallops back to the suite.
The elevator hasn’t even opened when my things are presented in a neat pile, the guard’s mammoth hands outstretched, eyes carefully trained on the ground.
It’s been approximately ten minutes since Aldo Cerreti walked into my life and here I am, climbing into the back center seat of his black SUV, the man himself on my right, one of his guards on my left, the other in the driver’s seat, and Lorenzo radiating nervous energy from the front passenger seat.
I would admire Aldo Cerreti’s efficient authority except I’m scared shitless.
Our journey begins in silence, just the whirr of the heater to mask the sound of my heart thumping so hard I’m worried it might explode. Aldo Cerreti flicks through something on his phone while the other men just sit there, mouths shut.
I should do the same, but terror makes me antsy, incapable of staying silent. “Does Rem know you’re back early?”
Aldo doesn’t pause scrolling, his attention fixed on the screen.
“Does he know you’ve taken me?”
Again, no response.
I shift in my seat, trying not to freak out as I watch the urban landscape of Chicago dissolve into suburban sprawl. I try again, masking the wobble in my voice with feigned bravado. “Maybe yes or no questions aren’t your thing. Let’s try a different one: where are we going?”
“So many questions, Mrs. Cosenza.”
“Isn’t that natural given the circumstances?” I keep my tone even, no hint of disrespect despite how angry I am. “We’re strangers. Asking and answering questions is a time-honored way to get to know someone.”
Aldo releases what sounds like a chuckle, putting his phone away as he shifts in his seat. The better to look down at me. “Inquisitiveness can be both a blessing and a curse, Lena. Something your mother learned firsthand.”
At the mention of Maria, I freeze, forcing my brain to keep functioning despite the hatred crawling its way up my veins. Hatred and fear. “What do you know about my birth mother?”
Aldo catalogues my features, like he’s looking for traces of her there. “So much, Mrs. Cosenza. So very much.”
I clear my voice, trying to gain some semblance of footing.
“Mr. Cerreti, you seem to have me at a disadvantage. We’ve never met, but you already know so much about me.
About my marriage to Rem, my birth mother, the suite I was staying in that only a handful of people know about.
But I don’t know anything about you. Like why you took me from my hotel room.
Or where we’re going. Questions that seem very fair, all things considered. ”
“I can’t argue with your logic,” the older man says. “Yet, you’ll have to forgive me, Mrs. Cosenza. I’m going to have to keep you in the dark a little longer. Once we arrive at our destination and my nephew has joined us, I’ll be happy to put you out of your misery.”
Which is quite possibly the worst thing he could say. It’s the perfect verbal blow. The fight goes out of me. I sink into my seat, digging my fingers into the butter-soft leather.
Asshole. Efficient, lethal asshole.
In the rearview mirror, I catch Lorenzo looking at me. He shakes his head. It’s almost imperceptible, but the message is clear. He’s telling me to shut up, to sit still. To just wait until Rem arrives.
We spend the next thirty minutes driving in silence.
The city is far behind us when we turn up a private drive, palatial gates opening to a tree-lined road.
It’s another five minutes before we pull up to a house so large and imposing it rivals some of the museums downtown.
Even in winter the grounds are immaculate, but the lack of leaves makes it easier to spot the armed guards stalking through the dramatically lit gardens.
“Welcome to my home.” Aldo Cerreti holds out his hand, blocking the open car door until I put my palm in his. His skin is smooth, cool. His grip strong but not painful. I bite my tongue to stop my teeth from chattering.
“Andiamo. Come.” Aldo tucks my hand into the crook of his arm, his other palm locking it in place, and guides me through the house’s impressive front doors.
Warm air assaults us when we step onto the foyer’s checkerboard marble floor. The entrance hall is almost as large as my entire apartment, a human-sized fireplace on one side crackling with a blaze large enough to send sweat trailing down my spine.
I scan the imposing space, trying to find Lorenzo.
He’s nowhere to be seen. The two guards from the SUV have taken position by the front door.
Two more join us, one at each of the hallways that run off the foyer.
Aldo squeezes my hand where it’s resting on his arm.
Five against one. All odds against escaping.
Still, I’m not going silently to my death. Locking my knees and steeling my spine, I refuse to move when Aldo tries to lead me down one of the halls. “Mr. Cerreti, it’s time you tell me why I’m here.”
“I told you to call me Aldo.”
“And I asked you a series of reasonable questions you’ve refused to answer. Seems like both of us are doing a bad job of following instructions.”
It’s evening, the foyer is dark, most of the light coming from the fire, but I swear I see humor flicker in Aldo’s eyes, followed by something that looks like respect. “Not afraid to push back against a bully, I see. I understand why he refuses to give you up.”
“Not afraid to admit you’re a bully, Mr. Cerreti.
How self-aware of you.” I’m angry, terrified, starting to feel the walls closing in around me.
It’s making me reckless. That’s the only reason I can give for baiting a bloodthirsty mob boss.
I mean, if he’s going to kill me anyway there’s no point pretending I give a shit about his feelings.
Aldo’s grip on my hand tightens, his forearm hardening under my fingers.
He might be an older man, but Aldo is still full of physical power.
He looms over me, and, in my peripheral vision, I see his guards take a step closer.
There’s a frisson of something around us.
Awareness. Aggression. I half expect Aldo to attack me right here and now.
I can’t help but squeak in surprise when, instead, he tips back his head and laughs. A deep, chest-rumbling laugh that brings tears to his eyes.
“Oddio. You remind me of her. Infuriating, stubborn, and charming.” His laughter fades, his expression closed. “A lethal combination, young lady.”
With that one comment my bravado dies, my body sagging with exhaustion and defeat. Sparing with this man in the entrance of his heavily guarded home is getting me nowhere. So, when Aldo heads toward one of the hallways I sigh and fall into step.
He gives my hand a patronizing pat. Asshole.
“It won’t be long now, Mrs. Cosenza. I might be a bully, but I’m not an unreasonable man. Not all the time. I do prefer efficiency, however, so I’d rather have this conversation only once. Which means we need to wait for my nephew before I can answer your questions.”
Aldo turns us into a room that looks like an office and library.
A massive desk takes up one half, a pair of leather armchairs positioned in front of it.
Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves line the walls, only interrupted by a window behind the desk and a massive fireplace on the right.
It is giving off some seriously intense heat, the flames casting shadows on the nearby sofa.
“Here, sit.” He gestures me to one of the leather chairs in front of the desk. “I’ll have someone bring up tea while we wait.”
“No tea.” I need something stronger. I spot a bar cart in the corner. “Whiskey, rocks.”
Without comment, Aldo pours my drink and hands it over. It’s a double at least. I must look like I need it.
I toss back a large gulp, my throat burning and eyes watering as the liquid lights fire through my organs. I’m not a fan of the stuff, but I relish the burn.
I keep the glass near my lips, sipping frequently to stop myself from screaming. The whole time I’m cataloguing items within reach that I can use as weapons. The fire poker is an obvious choice. Pens on the desk. The glass in my hand.
Aldo, who has taken his seat at the desk, catches me scanning the room. “Looking for something to read, Mrs. Cosenza? Or an escape?”
“Does it matter?”
“Not really, no. But—” Aldo Cerreti leans forward, his elbows resting on his desk, his fingers steepled in front of him. “I find I’m curious.”
“About?”
“You, my dear. I’m very, very curious about you.”
“Why? What does it matter? Neither of us are naive enough to think it will make a difference.”
Aldo cocks an eyebrow. “A difference to what?”
“To what happens to me,” I practically shout back. “Isn’t that the whole thing with you guys? The past dictates the future, tradition defines the present, rules that must be followed, honor that must be defended, family that must be protected, at all costs. No exceptions. Not even for lo—”
I cut myself off, trying to catch my breath. Aldo watches me, his expression neutral, giving no hint to what he’s thinking. “To outsiders our world must seem overly simplistic.”
“More like barbaric.”
Aldo relaxes in his chair, his posture calm, collected, controlled.
A posture that reminds me so much of Rem it makes tears burn the back of my eyes.
For the first time all night I realize that, despite Aldo’s comment that we’re waiting for his nephew, there’s no guarantee I’m ever going to see Rem again.
I could be held captive in this house forever. I could die in this house, and I’d never get to tell Rem I love him. No amount of alcohol can’t burn away the ache that’s building in my chest.
“But we’re not talking about outsiders, are we, Mrs. Cosenza? We’re talking about you. And, clearly, you’re one of us now.”
“Am I? To what end? I’m Rem’s wife, yes, but that hasn’t stopped your family from trying to kill me. From you trying to kill me.”
“Me?” The whiskey could be getting to me, but I swear Aldo looks shocked. “Do, tell—what have I done to try to harm you, Lena?”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” I don’t need alcohol to feel fire in my veins.
“I’m not going to sit here and itemize the near-death experiences I’ve had.
You know so very much about me and my life, there’s no way you don’t know what’s been happening or why.
Especially since you were the one who ordered Rem to kill me in the first place. ”
I’m shaking in rage, my grip on the rocks glass so tight I’m vaguely aware it might break.
In contrast, Aldo has become preternaturally still. A lethal calmness has settled over his face, the air around him practically vibrating with repressed violence. Gone is all pretense of the suave gentleman. The Aldo Cerreti I’m looking at is a brutal mob boss, through and through.
When he speaks, his voice is low, quiet, absolutely bone-chilling. “Take a breath, Lena, and repeat that very clearly. Exactly what did I order Rem to do?”
Somewhere in the distance I hear shouting, banging, the sound of a fight, but Aldo pins me in place with his eyes as a roaring sound fills my head.
Maybe it’s the whiskey. Or stress, fear, lack of food.
Whatever the reason, my brain isn’t working fast enough to understand the subtext of what’s happening.
Aldo is clearly enraged by my accusation that he wants me dead.
I’m clearly insane for inciting a murderous mob boss. And delusional because, through the blood slamming in my ears, I swear I hear Rem’s voice somewhere nearby.
“Kill me,” I say. “I’m supposed to be dead. And Rem is the one who was supposed to kill me.”
No sooner do I say his name than the office door slams open and Rem storms in, two guards limping in behind him.
“Lena.” He calls me and I’m halfway to his arms before thinking. The secrets, our fight, my need for space and time and a return to sanity—it all feels meaningless as soon as I see him.
In this moment, I want Rem more than anything else in the world. I’m about to launch myself against him when Aldo gets in the way.
The older man grabs my shoulders, blocking me as I try to reach his nephew. I’m fighting, pushing and shoving as hard as I can, but Aldo’s grip is unbreakable. I manage spot Rem over his uncle’s shoulder and what I see stops me dead.
Aldo’s guards have their weapons drawn. Two guns pressed to the back of Rem’s head.
I lose my breath so fast I can’t scream. Shocked, I go limp. Aldo seizes the opportunity and drags me across the room, well out of Rem’s reach. The entire time, the older man keeps his body between me and my husband. Like he’s protecting me from something.
Like he’s protecting me from Rem.
Time stretches. I look between Aldo, Rem, the guards. Slowly, too slowly, I realize we’ve made a mistake. We’ve gotten it all wrong.
Aldo confirms it when, voice hard, he asks me, “Why the fuck would I order Rem to murder my own daughter?”