Chapter 28 #2
“No, he won’t. He’s making a deal with Vignali as we sit here now. I don’t know the specifics, but we’ll handle the fine print later. You’ll go home with your man tonight.”
I blinked at him slowly, like in a dream. “Why?”
“Why what?” Santo asked.
“Why did Marco kill our father?”
Santo sighed. “I don’t know if I should tell you this, so keep it to yourself, but Marco had it planned for quite some time. Father’s actions were becoming reckless.
“Marco didn’t like the direction the old man was taking the family. The bad business deals, the old-school cruelty, the Russians. Marco has his eyes set on the future, and Father just… didn’t care.”
“So this was a business decision?”
“Yes—I mean, no. Marco was planning to make a move in two years. He wanted more influence and other arrangements made first, but we couldn’t just stand by and let Father destroy you or Klimov kill you. The deal was shit anyway, so Marco pulled the trigger early.”
“Pun intended,” he added with a snort.
With a small smile, I fake punched his arm.
What he’d said made perfect sense, especially after learning Marco had arranged my escape and the details of my life in Brooklyn. He’d always taken care of me.
And now? He was forging a bond between the Moscatellis and Vignalis through my marriage to Stefano.
My big brother. My hero.
“What about you, Santo?” I asked.
He flashed his boyish grin.
“Well, I’m Marco’s second, which means I’m now forced to live a life listening to him preach about dividends and returns while staring at him blankly and pretending to know what the fuck he’s talking about.”
That made me feel a bit better, for Santo’s sake, like maybe he had a chance at something normal. As far as that went in this kind of life anyway.
Marco walked in with a glass of bourbon.
“We’ve dealt with the bodies.”
Stefano came in after him carrying a similar glass.
I squinted at his hand, at the gauze and medical tape. Was he missing part of his finger?
“What the fuck happened to you?” I demanded.
Everyone stared at me like I’d lost my damn mind. I spoke more slowly, so the boys could catch up.
“Your hand. You only have four and a half fingers. There should be five.”
“Oh shit, when did that happen?” Santo asked.
“Four and three quarters,” Stefano corrected, his tone so casual. “Long story. I’ll tell you later.”
Marco stared at him. “The fuck you will.”
He sat on the chair opposite Santo and me, but Stefano remained standing as he turned his sharp gaze on Marco.
“We had a deal,” Stefano snapped. “I’m taking her home, Moscatelli, by force if necessary. Do you mean to operate in bad faith already?”
Marco held up a hand, then canted his head my way.
“Our deal stands, and my sister can leave with you—if that’s what she wants. Just because I won’t send her with the Russians doesn’t mean she automatically goes home with you. She goes back to New York only if she wants to. If not, you’re leaving empty-handed and shipping the kid here.”
Stefano rolled his eyes and then shifted his attention to me.
I had a choice, something no one had ever given me before. The choice to refuse freely, without consequences.
And like he’d read my mind, Stefano smiled, but doubt seemed to tighten it at the corners. Was he afraid of my answer?
Then, sweet mother of Christ, the man straightened his back, and that smile became a cocky smirk. So fucking hot.
“Would you please tell your brother that you want to come home with me and marry me and live the rest of your life on my massive New York estate with our son?”
As the doctor removed the IV, I glanced over at Marco.
“Well, it is a tempting offer. I mean, he has a really nice kitchen. Huge ovens.”
Stefano rolled his eyes again, and Santo laughed.
“What are your terms, Ace? What are you offering?”
This felt different—so easy. I could tease him and vice versa.
An enormous weight had been lifted from our shoulders, and we could just be ourselves now. We could be like the kids we pretended to be when we first met.
Stefano shrugged. “Everything. But it’s a forever commitment. There’s no backing out for either of us. No second guessing, no decade-long breaks. And this does not end at death.”
He held out his hand, his beautiful blue eyes warm despite the blood splatters on his face. Despite all the lies I’d told him.
“You’re mine forever, Valentina Vignali.”
Taking his hand, I let him ease me up onto my feet.
“You have a deal, Stefano Vignali. Now take me home to our son.”
I turned to Santo and hugged him.
A sharp pain shot through me, and I couldn’t help but shut my eyes for a moment before getting my voice back.
“You have to call me, okay? All the time, and I mean it.”
My little brother nodded and gently hugged me.
Then I went to Marco. Tears burned my eyes. I needed to say so much to him, so much I needed to thank him for, but I didn’t have the fucking words.
He eased me into an embrace and kissed the top of my head.
“It’ll all be okay, sorellina. When everything settles down, I want to see you again and meet my nephew. Tell him I’m sorry if I scared him.”
“I’ll tell him all about you. I know he’ll want to meet you. You better call me. God, I’ve missed you so much.”
I let go of my brother and put my hand in Stefano’s. We headed for the front door, and I didn’t even care that I only had on a nightgown. I needed to breathe in my newfound freedom.
As we hit the doorstep, Marco called after us.
“A heads up, Vignali. I need to get my house in order. I can’t do that while dealing with the Russians. I’ll be telling Klimov that you took her. You need to be prepared to handle that.”
Stefano didn’t turn around.
His jaw flexed, and he nodded once.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“We’ll talk on the plane.”
I already knew, though.
One fight had ended, and a new one waited for us at home.
But why the fuck was he was missing that finger?