Chapter 9
STEFANO
“Fuck,” I breathed.
Lying on my bed, I bent my arm and flung it over my face to cover my eyes and block the sunlight streaming in through the open draperies. Bella’s usual morning routine to wake me.
Only I hadn’t slept. I wasn’t sure I’d slept in ten years.
“Get out, Bella. Consider yourself promoted to my son’s nanny and stay out of my room from now on.”
Val’s room. Our room.
“Yes, sir,” she whispered. “Thank you, sir. Should I?—”
“Close the curtains and go.”
After she whipped the velvet panels shut and hurried out of the room, I opened my eyes again and stared at the ceiling.
Rage burned inside me, steadily rising closer to the surface, hour by the hour. Getting caught up in Val’s scent as it clung to the sheets didn’t help. It should have brought me peace. It only pissed me off more.
She should have been lying next to me.
Her father had infiltrated my house and taken her. He’d taken what belonged to me, the fat old fuck, and he would pay for it. He would pay for every mark on her body, every tear she cried, and every moment my son didn’t have his mother.
But Moscatelli hadn’t done it on his own. Someone in my organization had betrayed me to help him.
With every inhale, as her scent overwhelmed my senses, another kind of fury pumped through my veins.
It’s all her fault.
She had put me in this position. She kept the truth from me. She brought those men into my home.
Worse than that, she had made me love her.
Before Val came back into my life, I never spent my nights worrying about anyone. I spent them scheming, strategizing, planning the structure of one of New York’s most formidable empires, and calculating how I would burn it all down when the time was right.
I never gave a fuck about any girl, or about a son I didn’t know existed and the legacy I might leave behind for him.
I’d been content with my decision to marry someone I didn’t love, knowing I could use her family to get revenge for mine. Content to have my legacy die with me.
Not anymore.
Everything had changed in one night.
I was uncertain if this path had been laid out a decade earlier, the night of my son’s conception, simply remaining dormant until the right moment struck, or if my fate forged a new path the night I found my son.
It didn’t matter.
All that mattered now was getting Val back from Chicago.
First, I had to lay to rest the men who had died for me.
Rocco had managed not only the cleanup, but also the memorial service and burial. He had the necessary connections in place. Pulling these things together at a moment’s notice was his superpower.
He’d quickly arranged for the families to arrive and say their goodbyes inside the protection of my concrete walls.
Even as a made man and skilled earner, this talent made him more valuable to me than anything else.
I grabbed my phone from the nightstand and checked for a message from Benedetta. Nothing.
That bitch would pay for not replying.
After jumping into the shower and dressing in one of my black Brioni suits, I headed down the hall to my office, sending a message to Tony while walking.
You drag that bitch out of her father’s house with a gun to her head if you must but you get her to my office now
Tony strode in right behind me.
“I’ll go get her myself, boss. Came to tell you we found text messages between Nico and a 312 area code.”
Nico, one of the men I was about to bury.
“Chicago?” I asked.
“Yep, Gold Coast... Moscatelli’s residential neighborhood. Promised him fifteen grand to get them inside.”
Apparently, Moscatelli had no problem breaking promises.
Or necks.
“I had the boys put his body in the basement,” Tony added. “Rocco’s picking it up, sending him through the incinerator.”
I nodded. “Good work, Tony. Get Bruce to drive you over to Capaldo’s house. I don’t want you doing any heavy lifting.”
Once Tony had shut the door behind himself, I stared out the French door overlooking the courtyard, working to subdue my anger while waiting for that traitorous bitch Benedetta to get her little ass up here.
I couldn’t believe all the lies unraveling before me.
First Val, now Benedetta.
They had chatted in my kitchen over cookies and coffee, for fuck’s sake. And they’d posed for the same photo with a group of all-Italian girls at sixteen. Yeah, they fucking knew each other.
Benedetta should have told me, her loyalty should have been to me, but instead she either played ignorant or covered for Val.
Thinking about it now, could’ve been she was willing to break our marriage contract because she didn’t want to find herself in the way of the fucking Moscatelli family.
She should have feared me more.
And she would soon learn that.
I had to wonder how much she actually knew, whose side she was on, and if she’d shared her knowledge with anyone else.
Was Benedetta responsible for Moscatelli finding Val?
Unable to rein in my dark energy, I prowled back and forth in front of the bookcase along the far wall, pausing only long enough to grab my grandfather’s vintage Dupont lighter.
With the muscle memory from years of practice, I repeated flicking the gold cap open and shut, listening to the swipe of metal on metal followed by the distinctly satisfying click of the magnets engaging again to close the top.
Open and close.
Swish, click. Swish, click .
The sound soothed me as I formulated strategic scenarios in my head while waiting for Benedetta.
Finally, Tony appeared with her in hand.
He gave her a rough shove through the doorway.
“Next time, you’ll respond to him immediately,” he said.
Then he nodded at me once before leaving us alone.
I’d never seen Benedetta in any state other than polished and poised. But now her messy hair hung loose over her shoulders, and her wrinkled clothing contrasted with her usual meticulously selected and tailored wardrobe.
That combined with the lack of jewelry indicated she had indeed been dragged straight out of bed.
She stumbled into the room, then stomped like a child.
“What’s this about, Stefano? Your man shows up at my house and demands I come here in his car. He wouldn’t even allow me to get dressed.”
“You should have been here last night,” I warned. “I ordered you here in the text message you chose not to answer.”
She stared at me, her eyes a little wild, hands on her hips.
“I didn’t get the message until just this morning. Some of us actually sleep occasionally, you know.”
I narrowed my eyes, lowered my voice.
“Is that what you were doing last night, sleeping peacefully while my fiancée was taken from my house—after you told them where to find her? Of course, why should her abduction at gunpoint while they used my son for target practice disrupt your beauty sleep.”
I watched her face carefully to judge her reaction.
Benedetta frowned as she looked me up and down.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Is Enzo okay?”
I threw the lighter across the room, where it shattered a vase sitting on one of the shelves.
She jumped, but only concern filled her eyes.
I stalked toward her, my voice low and deadly.
“I want to know why. You said you had no problem with breaking off our engagement, and I believed you. You should have come to me. I would have made whatever you needed right. You didn’t have to tell them where to find her.”
I pounded my fist on my chest.
“You talk to me, goddamn it, and I’ll fix it.”
Benedetta spread her arms while shaking her head.
“Tell who where to find who? I have no idea what the fuck you’re even talking about.”
I didn’t think I’d ever heard her swear before. My gut told me she wasn’t lying, but both women had lied to me, and I wasn’t sure I could trust my gut anymore.
“You contacted her family, without so much as a warning sent my way. They came here armed, broke into my fucking house, killed my men, took her, and almost killed my son.”
“Who?” she screamed.
“Like you don’t fucking know, Benedetta.”
“No, I don’t know. Either tell me what you’re talking about or let me go home.”
I reached into my pocket for the photo and slapped it on the desk before turning away. I couldn’t look at her anymore, so I stalked across the room to stare outside.
Dead silence filled the air.
“How did you get this picture?” Benedetta finally asked.
Still peering out the glass, I managed an even tone again.
“Val kept it as a memento from her old life.”
Benedetta gasped. “She’s Valentina Moscatelli?”
I turned to see her face. Her eyes were wide, and her lips were parted as she stared at the photo.
“You really didn’t know?” I asked.
“No, I promise. I thought she looked a little familiar, but I wouldn’t have placed her in a million years. Valentina and I met only a few times. Her father never let her do much, not even hang out with the other daughters.
“And we all thought she died. I mean, there were rumors that it hadn’t been an accident. She was hardly the first mafia bride to suffer a tragic and fatal accident before her wedding.”
Her words struck me numb. “What?”
Tears welled in her eyes.
“I swear, Stefano, I didn’t realize it was her.”
“I’m asking about the ‘tragic and fatal accident’ thing… what do you mean by that?”
Benedetta blinked up at me.
“Oh. Well, mafia brides die before their weddings all the time. Sometimes it’s suicide, sometimes homicide. Maybe the groom doesn’t like what he sees. If she’s dead, he isn’t honor bound to marry her. Mistresses have been known to take a life as well. I know you know this.”
And I did, but it never really hit me until she’d said it.
“Not so much in New York,” she added, “but Chicago’s still rough when it comes to marrying off daughters. Not being satisfied with a business deal is another reason for getting rid of a bride. Considering the circumstances for Valentina’s wedding, I assumed that had happened to her. We all did.”
Her gaze softened as she studied me.
“It’s not uncommon, Stefano.”
“How common is it?” I demanded.
“Common enough that the possibility of Val having me killed if I didn’t back down from our engagement had definitely crossed my mind. If I’d realized she was a Moscatelli, I would have given it more serious consideration.”
I crossed the room again, hanging on her every word.
“What do you know about her?”
“Probably not much more than you at this point. I know she’s the only daughter of Saul Moscatelli. Her engagement was kept hush-hush. There were rumors of her marrying outside of the Italian families, which pissed off a lot of people.”
“What else?”
“I know her older brother, Marco, is currently in the market for a bride. Last I heard, it still hasn’t been settled. If my father didn’t hate Saul Moscatelli so much, there’s a chance he would have given me to Marco.”
“Why does he hate Moscatelli?”
She shrugged. “He doesn’t trust him. He says Saul lacks vision and any form of moral compass.”
She held on to the photo as she glided across the floor to perch on the edge of the sofa, as if sitting too hard might damage the upholstery.
If she’d had any idea what Val and I had done on that sofa, she might not have treated it so delicately. Christ. I needed to focus on the issue at hand instead of a memory of lying naked with Val’s pretty little body pressed against mine.
I scoffed. “That’s amusing—your father judging others for their lack of morals.”
“I know,” Benedetta said. “My father doesn’t always live up to the code. He has his own way, making clear what he is and isn’t willing to do, lines he will and won’t cross.
“But my father says Saul Moscatelli has no such lines. It was rumored he knew his daughter would likely be dead within a year if he agreed to the Russian wedding, but he sold her to them anyway. He drank to her engagement like the wedding was going to be the event of the century.”
I nodded, my chest aching for Val.
“How do you know so much about this?”
“Remember, my family is one of the few who can move freely between New York and Chicago. I chose to be in New York, yes, but you know most of my mother’s family is still in Chicago, and I am still very well informed.”
I snapped my gaze over to her.
Of course. Part of the reason I’d wanted to marry her.
“Informed enough to know where Val’s being held?”
I held my breath, hardly daring to hope.
Benedetta stood and wandered aimlessly around my office.
“Possibly.”
“Informed enough to get me inside? To help me bring the mother of my child home?”
“That depends. How did they find out about her?”
“Seems it was the wedding announcement I put out. Tony did some digging and found out a Chicago newspaper picked it up and then wrote about the lost Moscatelli daughter.”
She turned to face me.
“So her return is public knowledge?”
Something about the calculating look in her eyes set me on edge. It wasn’t new, but I’d only seen it in men who feigned loyalty just before they tried to manipulate me. It never ended well for them.
If Benedetta could help get Val back, there wasn’t a damn thing I wouldn’t do, even allow that fucking look. Once.
I raked my fingers through the top of my hair.
“I assume so. Why does it matter?”
“Because if it’s public knowledge, she’ll be expected to attend specific events. I can’t promise her safe return, but I can get you close enough to find out where they’re keeping her. Maybe even in the same room with her. Then you can take it from there.”
I wanted to believe her, but I couldn’t act on blind faith.
“Lay out a detailed plan… I want to know exactly what I’m walking into.”
She stared at me with a blank expression.
“I’m not just going to give it to you. If the Moscatellis find out, I’m dead. And it won’t be an easy death like a bullet to the head either. They’ll make me suffer for my betrayal. They’ll make an example of both me and my father.”
I flexed my fingers, closed them into fists.
“So you don’t want to help me. Hmm. Well, I could always make you do it.”
Benedetta took a deep breath and straightened, pushing her shoulders back and her chest forward.
“I didn’t say that. I just want you to understand exactly what I’m risking before we start bargaining.”
I stepped in close to her.
“Bargaining? Why would I bargain for anything when I could simply force you to give me what I want?”
She didn’t budge under the weight of my threat.
“You could, but you really don’t have the time. Not if you want this to work. Bargaining may have been the wrong word to use. What I mean is, you’re going to give me what I want.”
She raised a brow and folded her arms.
“Otherwise, Stefano, there’s really no chance in hell you’ll see Valentina again.”