Chapter 3
VAL
My father’s calm collected voice echoed inside my head.
“Hello, Princess. We’ve missed you.”
He pressed his lips together and waited for my response, his cold, familiar greeting slapping me in the face like it had been only a week since he last saw me.
Saul Moscatelli never yelled, never lost control.
When he got angry, his voice softened. Whenever someone came crawling back to him, begging for forgiveness, he had this way of seeming like a kind and forgiving man. He made the person feel like family.
Then, the moment they turned their backs to go, believing he had accepted their apology, he would wrap piano wire around their throats and kill them.
My father’s unfeeling business demeanor, his fine-tuned ability to suppress all emotions and conceal his intentions until the moment he struck, made him terrifying.
This time, though, he wasn’t the biggest threat in the room.
Not to me.
Even if you disagreed with his logic, my father believed his actions had a legit purpose.
My brother Aris, however, didn’t need a reason for his cruelty. It was his sport. My twin delighted in causing pain and suffering to others. Whenever I looked into his eyes, I didn’t see my father’s veiled calculating or anything else like it.
Only brutal, raw depravity.
And amusement.
Now that Aris had found my son, he held the most precious thing in my world on the palm of his hand, and he would end my boy’s life for no other reason than because he could.
He would do it simply to devastate me.
Even just the threat of it carved out a hollow space in my soul, crushed my heart, and made me shake uncontrollably.
Witnessing my agony had always entertained my brother.
Our father had never allowed him to kill me because I had been a useful commodity for trade.
I shifted my eyes for a quick side-glance at our father.
Yes, even now it was true.
Even after I’d run away and had a son. I didn’t know what had happened to his original deal with the Russians, but if it fell through, he definitely made another deal with them, and I was still the honeypot.
For Enzo, on the other hand, the bastard son of one of his rivals, he would have no real use. So if Aris chose to kill Enzo just to make me suffer, my father wouldn’t stop him.
He wouldn’t order it, but he wouldn’t stop it either.
Saul Moscatelli wouldn’t pretend to show respect for the Vignali family. My father had been acquainted with Stefano’s father and still with a few of the older Vignali made men, but he had no patience for young bosses like Stefano.
Men like Stefano could command loyalty more effectively than the previous generation of dons had ever done. That pissed off my father, and for that reason alone, he would risk a multi-family, multi-city war rather than spare Stefano’s son.
I had to find a way to save my son.
I straightened my spine and forced my tremors to stop.
“Why are you here, Father?” I asked.
I needed time to come up with a plan. There had to be a play here, a move I could make that might not save me from Aris, but would give Enzo a chance to survive.
Stefano wouldn’t let me walk out of here without a fight.
This meant I had to maneuver both men to save my son.
Aris answered my question for our father.
“We’re here to collect you, dear sister.
Your fiancé already married someone else, but the deal still stands…
you’re alive, and we’re obligated to deliver you to the Russians.
I’m sure they’ll find some use for you. Kitchen maid.
Whore. Target practice. I hear they prefer live targets for knife throwing. ”
“My mama isn’t going with you,” Enzo screamed.
He tried to get off the bed, but Aris dug his fingers deeper into my baby’s shoulder, pinning him down.
Enzo winced without making a sound, quickly schooling his expression better than any nine-year-old should be able to.
Aris laughed. “Feisty one, isn’t he?”
As if he were bored, my father looked down at his watch.
Feigning courage, I stood my ground by releasing a heavy breath and forcing out a threat against my brother.
“I think you mean he’s strong. You should meet his father. Stefano built what’s now one of the strongest families in the country. Commission members are courting him to save their own asses. Speaking of the Commission, you know you can’t be here in New York. The families won’t stand for it.”
Aris laughed, motioning with his gun for me to continue.
“The Commission won’t tolerate you threatening their golden boy. I don’t know how you got into this house, but you need to leave. Stefano won’t stand for you coming into his home and threatening his wife and his son.”
My father stood and straightened his suit jacket, now several sizes larger. The last ten years had not been kind to him, his health seemed to be failing, and he looked so much older.
He’d always been a large man, tall with broad shoulders, but the muscle that once supported his thick frame now appeared to be fatter than anything else. His strong jaw had also softened, his skin red and blotchy, and his jet-black hair looked unnatural, like he dyed it a lot.
Maybe my father was sick, or had he just let himself go?
My brothers clearly handled all the physically taxing work now, making our father soft. Or had his regular diet of red meat, rich cream sauces, and booze caught up to him?
If he was sick, what would that mean for me? Did he see me as a loose end he wanted to tie up?
No, not a loose end. That thought was all wrong.
Saul Moscatelli had never been the kind of man who cared enough about other people, and that included his children, to worry about the burdens he would leave behind.
If anything, it might make him more reckless, less worried about long-term risk, more focused on short-term rewards.
A dangerous situation for us all.
My father’s arm flew, and the back of his hand smashed against my face hard enough to send me to the floor.
“You forget your place, Valentina.”
Enzo struggled against Aris’s grip and cried out for me.
“Mama! Mama!”
My skin throbbed with familiar pain that brought tears to my eyes. I had to get up, though. Whenever my father had hit me before, I always stayed down, but I wasn’t that girl anymore.
I had become a mother with a child to protect.
A woman about to marry a king, not a mafioso claiming to be a one, but the presumptive king of kings.
That made me a queen.
Now was the time for me to stand up to my father and show him I deserved the respect he’d never given me.
I got up onto my fucking feet and looked him in the eye.
He spoke before I could shape my thoughts into words.
“You’ve caused quite enough trouble, Princess, and you’ve wasted far too much of my valuable time.”
I maintained eye contact, forcing my words to spill out in an even tone, even as my legs shook.
“I have no interest in your time, Father. I understand you can’t stay and must get back to Chicago. I’m sure your grandson is happy to have met you.”
My father let out a stupid fucking chuckle while looking at his stupid fucking watch again.
“Oh, mia piccola principessa. Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re leaving with me and your brothers. You’ll tell Vignali you don’t belong to him, you’re not his wife, he has no claim, and you have a prior contract to honor. Then we’ll go home.”
Pushing my luck, I lifted my chin, hoping he could see the strength in my eyes and not the terrified little girl he’d created.
“And if I refuse to go?” I asked.
Aris intervened, flashing one of his depraved grins.
“I’ll shoot your son and his father, then drag you out by the hair. So what’s it going to be, sister? Do I get playtime?”
My mind spun in a frenzied loop, working to come up with something to get my son out of the situation alive.
Enzo took advantage of the moment, leaping to his feet and jamming his fist into Aris’s groin.
Oh god, no. No, no, no.
My brother grunted and doubled over in pain.
Enzo raced to me, throwing himself in front of me.
My pulse accelerated. Nausea rolled through me, bile rising and burning my throat.
I shoved my son behind my body to shield him.
With a guttural snarl coming from between Aris’s teeth, he straightened and pointed his gun at me.
“You should’ve taught your son some fucking manners.”
I gripped Enzo’s arm behind my back.
“I taught my son how to fight and how to survive.”
“What the fuck would a dumb cunt like you know about survival?”
Realizing that if I antagonized Aris and forced him to focus on me instead of my son, it was a step in the right direction.
“How many times have you died, Aris? Have you ever survived on your own? Oh wait, you still live with daddy, and Marco’s still bailing you out all the time, because you’re too stupid not to start fights you can’t win.”
I pushed out my bottom lip in a childish, mocking pout.
Aris stepped closer. Shit. Had he actually just growled?
“You really wanna play, you little cunt? I’ll teach you some fucking manners first, then remind you where your place is—right before I do the same to your kid.”
It worried me that I couldn’t tell what my father was doing in my periphery, but I didn’t dare take my eyes off Aris, not when he stood so close to my son with his weapon.
I forced one of his disgusting grins onto my own face.
“But can you? I mean, you were just punched in the dick by a nine-year-old.”
He thumbed back the hammer on his gun as he closed in on me. Then he settled the cold steel barrel against my temple.
My heart slammed against my ribs, but I couldn’t allow Aris to see my fear. He would exploit any form of weakness.
Our father casually cleared his throat as he put his hand on top of Aris’s gun and pushed it down.
“Enough, son. Don’t shoot her in the face. We need her to stay pretty for the Russians.”
Then the old man met my gaze.
“As for you, Princess, you’re coming with us, and I don’t mean to say it again. Come willingly, and the boy lives. Anything more out of your mouth, and I’ll kill him myself.”
Enzo ripped his arm out of my grip and rushed between Aris and me to shove him back.
Aris pointed his gun at Enzo.
My heart stopped.
“If you kill him,” I blurted, “you’ll have to kill me too. And then not only will you have nothing for the Russians, you’ll never be able to hide your actions from the Commission. They’ll kill you if Stefano doesn’t kill you first.”
Aris studied me, then flicked his gaze over at our father, who didn’t offer a visible reaction.
My brother shrugged. “Fine. The bastard can live for now.”
He started to put his gun away, but must have had a second thought, because he whipped the butt of his weapon down against the side of Enzo’s head with a vicious crack.
My son crumpled to the floor.
I screamed, diving to the floor for my baby.
My father grabbed my arm and yanked me away before slamming my head against the wall, blurring my vision.
Gunshots fired downstairs.
I slumped against the wall and slid to the floor. I stared at Enzo, watching his little chest rise and fall.
How would I get him out of here alive?
My father hauled me up from the floor.
“Leave the bastard,” he growled. “He’s not your concern anymore. Now let’s go. Be sure to tell his father on the way out not to come after you. You’ll get into the car and behave yourself. If you do not, I’ll send Aris back for the boy.”
He had me with that, and he knew it.
I cast my gaze to the floor and let him guide me out of the room and down Stefano’s grand staircase.
On the way down, the nauseating mix of overheated metal, gun smoke, and blood overwhelmed my senses.
I didn’t dare risk looking at the carnage strewn across the once pristine floors. I didn’t want to see Stefano lying on the cold marble in a pool of his own blood.
I’d brought death upon this house. My choices had led to this moment, with my son upstairs, unconscious, and his father likely dead. All for nothing.
If only I had told Stefano the truth from the very beginning. Maybe none of this would have ever played out. But I hadn’t, so it all came full circle to slap me in the face…
Me in my father’s possession again, about to be sold by one monster to another. My baby lost to me. Stefano lost.
My brother Marco’s voice rang out in anger and startled me.
Stefano yelled something back at him, and a fleeting sense of relief washed over me. A sliver of hope. Stefano was still alive.
He would find Enzo upstairs and protect him.
Marco and Stefano argued. Santo interjected, insisting I was absolutely his sister, Valentina Moscatelli, not Valerie Salera.
My father pushed me down the stairs in front of him.
“Let her go,” Stefano snarled.
With my eyes still downcast, I stared at the destruction of his beautiful house. Plaster, shards of glass, splinters of wood, and splattered blood all over the floor.
Stefano made a move in my direction.
Aris pushed the barrel of his gun against the back of my head, forcing my neck forward.
“She comes with us, motherfucker, or she goes with God.”
“She’s mine by code,” Stefano said. “She’s the mother of my son and my wife in a matter of hours. I’ve already had her, and our engagement has been announced.”
“Fuck your code,” Aris spat.
Nothing surprising there. My family often chose to ignore the rules established by the founding families.
“Seems my daughter failed to mention she’s already been purchased. Hell, after all this, Klimov might just refuse her when he finally sees her. If he does, maybe I’ll let you buy her. For now, boy, just be grateful I’m letting your bastard live.”
Every time my father called my son a bastard, my blood boiled hotter, and the way I hated him grew stronger. I would dance on this man’s fucking grave someday soon.
“She’s mine,” Stefano snarled.
My father pushed me down another step.
“No, Vignali, she’s not.”
My foot slipped as we got close to the bottom step, and Saul Moscatelli, my father, so easily let go of me to save himself.
Stefano caught me.
I looked up at him, hoping to see the love he’d shown me earlier. Hoping he understood why I’d done it all.
Understood what I had to do now.
But that’s not what I found in those dark eyes.
The cruelty in his stare made my breath stop.
“What the fuck have you done?” he demanded.