Chapter 11
Valentina
I forced myself to breathe normally. A steady inhale and exhale against the wild, furious pounding of my heart.
My apprehension gave way to dread as I saw the anger in his eyes. His face was turning red. It was as if he was battling to contain the rage that was in danger of building to a crescendo. Papa, who was usually calm and cool under pressure, looked like he was prepared to make someone pay.
“Traitor?” I choked out.
“I never thought anyone would dare to cross me like this,” my father said, anger lacing every word. “Least of all now. With a wedding to plan.”
I broke out into a cold sweat, afraid of what he would say next.
Because I could either confess now and pray that would spare me the worst, or I could feign confusion and insult my father’s intelligence.
Pretend I didn’t know what he was talking about.
That might buy me time to think through an explanation.
Think through a way out of this. If he knew that I was outright lying though, he would make the punishment so severe that it would act as a deterrent for anyone else foolish enough to lie to his face.
Neither option seemed good. If I told him that I had tried to end the engagement behind his back, my father would never trust me again.
I’d be shut out of the family business for good.
A pariah. The princess who lost her throne.
There had been consequences for this sort of betrayal.
Banishment that meant I’d be left defenseless against our enemies.
Confinement in my apartment where I’d be under permanent house arrest. Practically imprisoned.
Both consequences would mean that I’d end up completely alone with no one to turn to.
And those were the merciful consequences.
If I lied and Papa guessed that I was lying, he’d not only make sure to isolate me, he’d also make an example out of me.
Betrayal was bad enough, but lying on top of it could end with me getting tortured.
Beaten to unconsciousness would probably be the lightest punishment.
Papa would never hurt me himself, I knew that.
But his men were so loyal that they’d throw their own mothers out of a helicopter if he ordered it.
One word and his men would hurt me bad enough to put the fear of God into me and everyone else in the city.
That made me think about the hand that we’d ordered taken from Enzo De Luca’s uncle.
I shuddered at the memory. It hadn’t been my idea.
I had simply wanted to kill one of the De Lucas for their numerous crimes against us, namely assassinating Uncle Tony and attempting to kill my father.
But Papa had refused, saying that he would only kill when he was one-hundred percent certain that the De Lucas were responsible for killing his best friend.
But since the De Lucas were his number one suspects, Papa decided that they still needed to face some punishment.
He’d suggested going after Don De Luca’s brother—by cutting off his hand.
Since I couldn’t get my way, I had put my own flair on things and suggested sending them the severed appendage in the mail.
A reminder to our enemies that we could destroy them physically and psychologically.
As disappointed as I was in not getting my way, my father’s idea turned out to have some merits.
Murder would have made the De Lucas want revenge.
Maiming one of them however, had been brutal enough to scare Don De Luca to the bargaining table without pushing him into vengeful bloodlust. According to Enzo, it had been the severed hand that led to our engagement.
Obeying my father had led to all this. If I’d had my way, at least one of the De Lucas would have been eliminated by now and we’d be on our way to getting rid of the rest. But the maiming was a reminder of what my father was capable of.
A bullet to the head was quick and painless.
The things my father did were never quick and never painless.
There were punishments far worse than death that he could mete out against me—and I knew it.
“Who would be foolish enough to betray you?” I asked, my heart hammering as I pretended to be oblivious. I prayed that my performance was convincing because Papa would destroy me if he thought I was lying.
As ill-advised as lying was though, it would be risky to confess.
There was a danger that I would end up revealing more than he actually knew.
I had to be careful. Cautious yet cunning at the same time as I fought to outmaneuver the most powerful man in New York City.
My father had ended up ruling the underworld through calculating ruthlessness.
I would have to follow that example if I had any hope of surviving this.
“That’s what I want to find out,” Papa said, his eyes turning flinty and unyielding. “Who would be that foolish, Valentina?”
I swallowed hard. My dread was now full-blown fear. I suddenly felt trapped. Claustrophobic. As if the walls of the alley were closing in on me. “I can’t imagine,” I said woodenly, my hands shaking.
“Well, it’s happened,” my father said. “Someone has knifed me in the back.”
Nausea made my stomach lurch. “How? What have they done?”
“They’ve gone to the authorities, that’s what they’ve done,” my father responded with barely contained agitation.
“What?” That wasn’t me faking this time. I was genuinely surprised because that answer wasn’t what I’d been expecting. “They’ve gone to the cops?”
“No. And that wouldn’t matter anyway since we pay the cops to look the other way,” my father said. “This is far worse than cops.”
I nodded, then took another breath to compose myself. “So, who did they go to?”
My father blew out an angry breath. “The federal government.”
The nausea worsened and I really did feel like I was going to be sick then. “The FBI?”
“Not yet,” Cousin Frankie said grimly. “But that’s where this is headed.”
“The feds are after us,” my father said in a low voice.
I frowned. “That’s not so bad. We’ve been able to give them the runaround before. This is probably just another fishing expedition.”
Papa leaned forward, “They’re doing a forensic audit.”
My stomach dropped at those dreaded words. That was one of the worst things anyone in the mafia could hear. It was probably worse than the FBI coming after us. “They do that when they’re looking for a case of fraud,” I said, my voice shaking.
“Which means that they’re searching for something specific,” my father said.
“So, the fed agents know exactly what they’re looking for,” I said with renewed fear.
This might not have been as terrifying as my father discovering my betrayal, but this was bad.
The sort of situation that had brought down other mobsters.
“There’s some misdeed they know about and are going to try and turn the place upside down to find concrete proof that backs up whatever they already have. ”
Papa gave a nod. “Confirmation that there’s an informant.”
“Basically, a mole,” I said.
“Yes. The government has managed to turn someone against me.” The vein in his forehead started throbbing then. Another sign that this was one of those rare moments where he was in danger of losing control of his temper.
I glanced over at Cousin Frankie. He didn’t meet my gaze.
Instead, he averted his eyes and started to search one of his pockets.
As he fumbled around muttering, I narrowed my eyes at him, watching him produce a lighter and a pack of cigarettes.
With visibly shaking hands, he shoved the cigarette into his mouth and flicked the lighter several times to no avail.
Finally, he cursed under his breath and then managed to cup a trembling hand long enough to spark a flame and light the cigarette.
Smoke curled upward, the tendrils forming a haze around him.
My cousin held the cigarette pack out toward me, his hand still trembling.
Shaking my head in refusal, I turned back to focus on my father, who looked too lost in thought to notice Frankie’s sudden bout of anxiety.
Frankie sometimes smoked when he was anxious, though he’d never admit it.
But I knew. Everybody had a tell. A dead giveaway that I could spot when I was trying to probe for an opponent’s weakness.
All I needed was patience to figure it out, and the cigarette told me that Frankie was afraid. Even more afraid than I was.
“Do you have any idea who it is?” I asked my father.
Papa shook his head. “No. But it has to be somebody close. Someone we trust implicitly. Someone we’d never doubt or question.”
I looked over at Frankie again, but now his eyes were fixed on a dirty, oily puddle nearby.
As I stared at him for several moments, I couldn’t shake the distinct feeling that something was terribly wrong.
I’d felt it that fateful night at the opera when I suspected that my cousin had been hiding something from me.
Now I felt it again. A misgiving that was bordering on mistrust.
Except that unease just helped to set off my guilt, because even though Frankie was my rival, he’d never given me any reason to doubt him.
And yet, I did. For the first time, I was questioning his loyalty.
I had started off afraid that Papa wouldn’t trust me, and now here I was, doing the same to someone else.
But I couldn’t help this sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.
The sinking feeling that something was shifting and I would have to watch my back from now on, even with my own family.
~~*~~
“FRANCESCO,” MY FATHER said then, with a jerk of his head. “Leave us.”
For a second, Frankie looked surprised, but he gave a slow nod, then stepped away, retreating to leave me and my father alone in the dingy alleyway.
“Is there something you didn’t want Frankie to hear?” I asked in a low voice, my suspicion refusing to ebb.