Chapter 13
STEFANO
I spotted her from a distance on the Moscatelli thug’s arm.
Valerie. Valentina.
Whatever her name was, it didn’t matter to me. Val could use any name she wanted. I just wanted to call her mine.
She looked stunning in a sparkling red gown. Even the pearl and ruby choker at her neck, as impressive as it appeared to be, paled in comparison to her beauty.
The only way she could’ve been more beautiful might have been if her dress lay on the floor by my bed while she rode my cock in that red lipstick and the diamonds I’d bought her.
Benedetta nudged me with her elbow.
“Stop staring at her, Stefano.”
“Never,” I snapped without taking my eyes off Val.
She hadn’t seen me yet.
I drank in the sight of her, moving my gaze up and down her body, taking in every detail, inch by inch. Her hair, her lips, the shape of her ass, her hips, and her breasts, her…
At first glance, there seemed to be a shadow beneath the pearls, but when she shifted, and the light hit differently, I saw the fucking bruise on her neck.
Then another. And another. More bruises marked her perfect skin, some leading down into the long gloves she wore. Once I’d seen the first mark, I couldn’t stop seeing others.
The gloves covered the bullet wound on her arm, but it couldn’t hide the bruises on her neck and shoulders. Some were faded, which I supposed she’d gotten from Cozza.
I guessed she’d been told to cover them with makeup, and to obey her father but rebel at the same time, she used as little concealer as she could get away with.
My heart now raced for a different reason.
Someone in her family had dared to hurt her. They dared to touch what belonged to me. Another man or men had put their hands on my girl.
I would kill them all, slowly, until they begged me for death.
“You should calm down,” Benedetta whispered. “You look like you’re about to murder everyone in the room. You’re going to draw the wrong attention.”
“Someone hurt her,” I snarled.
My feral response echoed through my head as my mind replayed it again.
“She has a few bruises, but she’s fine,” Benedetta said. “I promise you, she’s been through much worse. Honestly, I’m surprised her twin didn’t take it further.”
I clenched my jaw and flexed my fingers to subdue the monster rising from the darkest part of my soul.
“Yes, I’ve heard about Aris Moscatelli’s reputation and his violence against women.”
A reputation so well earned, it was the first thing Tony had dug up on the son of a bitch.
Benedetta lowered her gaze to the ivory-and-black carpeting.
“It’s all true. He was even more violent with his sister. Some in this very room say it went as far as?—”
“No, it fucking did not,” I said.
“How could you know that?”
I shot her a knowing look, and she understood my meaning.
“Oh, she was… I mean, you were her, um… Are you sure?”
I dragged my gaze away from Val to meet Benedetta’s.
“I was the first man to touch her. I don’t care what happened between then and now, but you can be sure I’ll also be the last man who touches her. And I swear to Christ, no other man will leave a fucking bruise on her body again.”
Only my bruises were acceptable—my fingerprints on her thighs from holding them open. My handprint on her ass the next time she even considered lying to me again.
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Benedetta whispered, a note of melancholy in her voice. “It’s cruel.”
“One way or another, that’s one I will keep. Enough. I need to get to her and tell her about the plan.”
Then I made a beeline in Val’s direction, forcing my way through the crowd.
Benedetta grabbed me. “Stop… look who she’s with.”
I halted.
The young thug still stood close to my girl.
No doubt he was armed.
Of course he would be the Moscatelli assigned to escort her. Enforcers guarded the goods. He’d certainly been tasked with making sure she didn’t leave or say the wrong thing, and equally as important, with preventing undesirable advances toward her.
“I’m not going to just stand here all night,” I said.
I had to get a message to her. It had to come from me.
“Please, Stefano, wait. You have to pretend you’re enjoying the party. Remember, you’re here to conduct a business transaction. It’s the only reason you can be here. I’ll get you closer to her but let me do it the right way.”
I turned to her and stared daggers through her.
“You promised me you would?—”
“I promised to get you in the room with her. You’re in the room. I’ve met my obligation, but I’m willing to keep going if you can be patient. If they find out you’re here for any other reason before we have Marco on our side, well, I don’t think it will end well for either of you. Or me.”
I gave her a curt nod despite my nerves burning with impatience. I had no other option but to trust her. For now.
So, if milling around the ballroom is what she needed to do, to make small talk and gather gossip about Val’s assumed future while looking for Marco Moscatelli, then so be it. For fucking now.
She grabbed two glasses of champagne from a passing tray and handed me one, smiling as if we were a happy couple about to announce our engagement.
Fuck. I had to play into the room’s assumption if I wanted to get to Val, even if it hurt Val when she discovered us.
As we listened, I realized my girl had been having a little fun spreading some tall tales of her own.
Everything from a decade’s worth of plastic surgery in Paris—as if anyone but God could craft that kind of beauty—to having been held captive by trolls, to spending years in a drug recovery facility.
I couldn’t help but grin.
She’d found a way to survive with her sanity intact.
She knew I would come.
Finally, we ran into an old gossip with some information. An older woman with gray hair styled so tight on top of her head that it pulled back the skin on her face, making it look like she’d been the one surgically altered.
The woman hugged Benedetta.
“It’s so lovely to see you again, dear. To answer your question, well, I can’t speak to what that girl got up to, but I know the Russians aren’t happy about it.
“Why it’s such a problem for them is quite odd if you ask me. The man she would’ve married has a wife. In fact, he’s had three brides over the last decade. And despite all that, seems the Russians won’t drop their claim.”
“Will they be here tonight?” Benedetta asked.
“I hear they’ve sent an emissary, so he can get a look at her. If it were my husband, the deal would be entirely void. And as for that brash little girl, she could die unmarried, and I wouldn’t shed a tear.” The woman sniffed. “Once her beauty fades, she won’t be desirable anymore.”
I set my jaw to keep from strangling the old fucking bitch.
“Will there be a deal with the Russians or not?” I asked.
She stared at me for a minute.
“A few of the families tried to convince Don Moscatelli not to work with the Russians. But a woman like that, after all that’s happened? She doesn’t have many prospects now, does she? Shame, really. Such a beautiful young woman unmarried because no one wanted the baggage that comes with her.”
Her critical tone scraped at my patience—she was talking about my son, referring to him as baggage.
The haggard old bitch. How dare she.
I’d never hit a woman like her in anger. But this wrinkled cunt was begging for a beating. She preferred a loose tongue? Fine. I’d loosen it from her mouth permanently. Maybe then she’d finally learn a thing or two about the art of silence.
Benedetta must have picked up on my rage. She squeezed my arm, steering my focus back to the conversation.
After several pointless excuses, the woman finally wandered off to spread her shit somewhere else.
Benedetta turned to me. “I have an idea.”
I hoped it involved violence. “Go on.”
“I just saw Marco leave the ballroom. I didn’t see him come in, but now I can follow him. I’ll talk to him and see if he’ll get you an audience with his father tonight. Saul is here somewhere for sure. He’s not socializing, so he’s taking meetings somewhere in this hotel, right?”
“You can count on it. What else do you know about the old man that might be useful?”
She nodded. “He’ll want you to make an official offer to marry his daughter with his blessing. He’s simple, motivated by greed. Offer him an obscene amount or a lot of power and influence or something. I think that’s the best way to get her back. After all, that’s why she’s here.”
“What?”
“Her father dolled her up and put the family jewels on her. If the Russians back out, this becomes an auction.”
“So you want me to line up like one of these second-rate motherfuckers and pretend I don’t already have the right to the mother of my child?”
She shrugged. “Well, yes.”
“And if he refuses my offer? I lose the element of surprise, and he’ll expect my attempt to steal her back. And I will take her by force if necessary.”
“I’m out of suggestions, Stefano.”
We had to do something at this point, like it or not.
“Do it then. Go talk to Marco.”
She squinted as she stared over my shoulder.
“Oh—he’s back and actually coming this way.”
Then Benedetta skirted around me, flashing a brilliant smile as easily as if it were another mask.
“Marco, hi. I was hoping to see you.”
I took a side-glance and instantly recognized him.
He kissed Benedetta on the cheek.
“It’s good to see you. What can I help you with? Finally coming back to Chicago? You look great, by the way.”
She chuckled politely. “Not quite, and thanks. But can we talk? I’d like to know what your father wants most right now.”
His gaze flickered in my direction.
“Hmm. Well, I can come up with several answers to that question, but none of it’s fit for mixed company. Why would you ask about that anyway, beautiful?”
Turning to face him, I interjected and answered for her.
“I want the mother of my child back where she belongs… with me, in my fucking house.”
Marco stared at me, past my mask, and the asshole grinned.
“She told me you would show up. Not sure if you’re stupid or brave, but I’m glad to see my baby sister chose someone who won’t give up on her. I mean, it would’ve been better if you were on the outside but fuck it.”
“What does your father want?” I hissed.
“More power than he has or deserves. You should know if the Russians want her, and just looking at her... of course they will, my father will go with them. I’ve tried to change his mind, but he’s a stubborn old man.”
“What are they offering?” I asked. “I’ll beat it.”
Marco looked me up and down, chewing on the corner of his lip, showing me his false tell.
This fucker liked playing games.
“Money,” he answered. “Same offer he’d get for a bride of her worth ten years ago.”
“She’s worth more than two and a half million, Moscatelli. Any asshole here could offer that much. Stop fucking around and tell me what’ll work for your father.”
Marco grinned again like an idiot.
“Once upon a time, the deal included a lucrative shipping allowance for my family. Offer him the money and promise you’ll join the Commission. I know they’ve extended a standing offer to you. Tell my father once you take your seat, he gets some leeway for shipping on the East Coast.
“It’s a big fucking ask, Vignali, I know. I know about your history with the Commission, but that’s what it’s gonna take. And there is one other stipulation, because if you want a chance in hell, you’ll need me to push him for you.”
Fine. I would play his game.
“And your price for this favor?” I asked.
“I’m my father’s heir. When I take over?—”
“Assuming your brother doesn’t stab you in the back.”
Marco offered a half-hearted shrug.
“Aris will be dealt with when the time comes. When I run this family, I want you to be the voice that opens the door to dissolving the treaty. Men like my father are on their way out. Cooler, smarter heads will soon prevail in Chicago. We’re all losing money with the treaty intact, and I want to see it gone. ”
Smart man. Something I might have asked for myself had I been in his shoes. I extended my hand and nodded.
“She comes home with me tonight, and we have a deal.”
Marco grasped my hand for a firm shake—like we’d just signed a multibillion-dollar deal. In a way, long term, we had.
“I have to make my rounds,” he said. “You’ll get your sit down with my father tonight. Stay close.”
Marco left us to continue his business around the ballroom.
While scanning the room for Val again, I rested my hand on Benedetta’s lower back.
“I need to talk to her right now. I might not get another opportunity.”
There—my girl. I fixed my gaze on her.
Benedetta sighed and touched my shoulder.
“Seems there’s nothing I can say to stop you. Just be careful, Stefano. I’ll be around when you’re ready to go.”
“Thank you,” I called after her as she walked away.
Exactly right. Nothing could stop me. I focused on Val’s location again, but now her brother stood there by himself, holding a pair of women’s shoes like a dumbass.
Then a flash of red slipped along the wall.
She was slipping out of the ballroom.
Good. That made it easier for me to see her, to tell her I would get her back. Maybe even to give her a piece of my mind for dragging me through this bullshit with all her lies. She had forced me to break the treaty and chase her to Chicago.
And where the fuck did I find her?
Not locked in a cell, pining for me. Not on the street, running from her family to get back to me and our son.
No. I found her dressed like some beautiful mythical creature, a goddess, trying to attract potential husbands at a stupid fucking masquerade ball.
As discreetly as possible, I made my way through the sea of sequined dresses and tuxedos to the other side of the ballroom. When I stepped through the same double exit doors Val had used, the hallway beyond felt far too empty.
With every step along the red carpet runner, following her, my blood boiled hotter and hotter.
She had caused this mess.
Now I had to risk everything for her—again.
I watched her enter the ladies’ room and headed that way.
Before I could grab the ornate golden handle, the door opened for me. Then a hand darted out and clamped down on my arm to yank me inside.
No light. The room was pitch black.
Someone shoved me against the wall and held a knife to my throat.
The lights came on—and there she was.
Valentina Moscatelli, furious, glaring at me while wielding a fucking butter knife.
I grinned. “Found you, mia bellissima diavoletta.”