Chapter 6
CHAPTER 6
STEFANO
I had my pistol sighted directly between her eyes.
“You forget yourself, Valerie. Strike me again, and I swear to Christ it will be the last thing you ever do.”
The boy ran to his mother and pushed in between us.
While keeping my gaze locked on hers, I dropped my arm, engaged the safety, and put the gun away.
I had done plenty of fucked-up things in my life, and I would commit many more terrible acts in the future. Still, I had to draw the line somewhere, and under no circumstances would I allow myself to aim a loaded firearm at a child.
My child.
The pain in my left arm flared to explosive, searing throbs after suffering first the gunshot wound, then Val’s fist. Clenching my teeth, tightening my jaw, I tried to ignore it and focus on what the hell I needed to do next.
With the two of them.
With the three of us.
Because I had frightened her, she no longer made eye contact with me. But what else should I have expected after treating her like that? I pulled in a deep breath and lightened my expression.
“Val, please look at me.”
After staring at me for a second, defiance lit up her eyes.
I shook my head in warning.
“Here’s what’s going to happen. You’ll take the boy to my car, and the two of you will get in the back. You won’t argue. You won’t make a fuss. And you won’t fucking hit me again.
“And you’ll go quickly before the police get here. Otherwise, we’ll have to explain what happened here, and I don’t want to do that. This precinct isn’t one of mine. Do you understand?”
“I’m not going anywhere with you. Neither is my son.”
“You will go. Because you’re no longer safe here.”
“You did this to us,” she fired back.
I focused on the aching in my jaw while staring at her.
All I wanted in the moment was to set my rage free. To grab her beautiful, delicate throat and pin her against the wall with my hard cock while threatening her life.
I wanted to hear her beg me for mercy.
I wanted her to have nightmares filled with images of me.
Only me.
I wanted to scare her without pause or apology to make her obey me, to make her get into my fucking car.
But I wouldn’t do it, not in front of the kid.
Enzo, she had called him.
I would never make him stare down the barrel of a gun or knowingly terrify him the way I wanted to terrify his mother for what she had done to me.
He had no idea who or what I was. If I punished his mother in front of him, the monster he would see would be the only thing he ever remembered about me.
That meant the one play I had left was employing one of my lesser practiced skills.
Reason.
Fucking reason.
I cleared my throat, reminded myself to keep my voice low.
“Val, listen to me. You aren’t safe here or anywhere else you might go. You’re not safe because you didn't tell me about my son, and one of my rivals found him first. An enemy who is now using him to hurt me. Do you understand? If I’d known about him, this never would have happened.”
She folded her arms, maintaining our eye contact.
“I don't believe you.”
Damn it, had she always been so stubborn?
Yes. Her willfulness had always driven her decisions, and that once charmed the hell out of me. It made her strong, independent.
Made her the challenge I needed.
But right then, it proved to be a pain in the ass as she wasted what little time we had before the police arrived.
With that thought, my patience snapped again.
“I don't give a fuck whether you believe me,” I growled. “The facts are simple, Valerie. You would be dead if I hadn’t been here tonight. You’ll be dead tomorrow if you refuse to do as I say.
“You and Enzo will stay with me until I get this sorted out. When I have removed the threat, you may return to your happy little life. And after that, I’ll provide continued protection for you both. Then you’ll never have to see me again. But you must?—”
She lifted her chin to present herself as my equal and cut in.
“Who tried to kill us tonight, Stefano? Who did you piss off so much that they would come after two people who aren’t even part of your life?—”
“We need to fucking go,” I shouted.
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” she screamed.
Her scream shot into my face, almost drowning out the approaching police sirens. The cops were only blocks away, and we didn’t have time for her disobedience.
I lunged at her, hovered over her, forcing her to bend her neck back to see my eyes, then I lowered mine to her throat.
She swallowed hard.
“You’re getting in that car, Valerie. You can walk out of here on your own, with your dignity and the kid by your side, or I will carry you to the car. I suggest you make your choice quickly before I make it for you.”
Her nostrils flared as she exhaled slowly. She said nothing.
“If you’re so fucking convinced this is on me, then you know I’m the only one who can fix it. And I would prefer to do that before either of you loses your life.”
My thoughts, my demeanor walked a fine line between desperation and anger and moving things along before my problems doubled over the next five minutes.
Val let out a sharp little laugh, maybe to buy herself more time. Then she redirected the point of her argument.
“Listen to yourself, Stefano. Do you honestly expect me to believe you care about us? You don’t even believe it?—”
“Get to the fucking car now,” I roared.
I leaned in, prepared to put her over my shoulder despite the pain. It seemed she insisted on giving me no other fucking choice. The boy would follow us out.
Just as I gripped her waist, she let out an aggravated grunt and tossed her hands in the air.
“Okay, fine. I’ll go.”
Then she took the kid’s hand and marched across the broken glass with him, through the busted front door, and out to the car.
I stood there with my eyes locked on her until she made it outside, expecting her to turn back and spear me again with all the pent-up hatred she’d clearly amassed for me over the last decade.
She didn’t turn around.
Releasing a shaky sigh, I followed in her wake.
I let my eyes rest on her swaying hips.
There was no help for it. No help for me.
At the car, I opened the door, and she and Enzo slid into the back seat, and I piled in after them. Tony got behind the wheel, then Bruce took the front seat beside him.
I would have liked to have driven Val and our son myself, but I feared I’d lost more blood than I could afford to lose and still operate a vehicle safely.
Beyond that, Tony excelled at shaking the red-and-blue tail coming our way.
We peeled away down the narrow side street.
Muted flashes of red and blue hit the car’s rear window.
Blaring sirens shrieked.
Two of the four squad cars followed us while Tony took them for a ride around Brooklyn without breaking a sweat.
Tony’s nonstop grin made me wonder for just a second if he was showing off now that he had an audience.
I redirected my focus to the boy while bracing myself for the next sharp, high-speed turn, ignoring the spiteful glare from his mother sitting between us.
He said nothing and hardly moved. He blinked out the window and held his mother’s hand.
Catching his expression proved difficult with all the jostling from Tony’s maneuvering, but I caught it a handful of times.
This child wasn’t scared.
His visible scowl hinted not at fear or concern but at anger instead, his brow furrowed around that single thin line along his forehead that echoed my own.
With his jaw tight and his back straight, he seemed determined not to let the mask slip, and after everything he’d been through, I couldn’t have been more impressed by how he successfully achieved that aim.
Once Tony put enough distance between us and the police tail, he pulled the Mercedes into an alley just wide enough for the vehicle. He killed the engine and the lights, and we waited.
Val breathed slowly but heavily as she stared through the front windshield. With one hand squeezing the boy’s, she clenched her other fist on her lap and almost succeeded in hiding the trembling of her body. Almost.
“Be smart for once,” I said.
The last thing we needed was her trying to make a break for it with the car stopped.
She seemed to realize the same thing. Her fist relaxed, and she stayed put without starting another argument between us.
The cops passed by, chasing their own tail, probably without even noticing the difference.
That trick never got old.
The boy must have thought the same when a flicker at the corner of his mouth caught my attention.
Tony inhaled loudly through his nose.
“Back to the house?”
“Yeah, but call ahead first. Make sure the doc’s awake and ready for us the second we walk through the door.”
“Sure thing, boss.”
Then Bruce passed back a familiar yellow envelope.
“Hey boss, this is for you. Left behind at the shooter’s initial position.”
Tony started the car and rolled us carefully out of the alley.
I couldn’t open another one of those envelopes, not yet.
I didn’t want the contents to strike up another flare of contention between Val and me, especially in such close proximity in the back of the car, where neither of us could walk away to avoid crossing a line that couldn’t be uncrossed.
Where I couldn’t walk away.
My conviction lasted all of three minutes before I needed to know what the envelope contained. I opened it and peered inside, thumbing through the items without exposing them to nearby prying eyes. Val’s mostly, but also the boy’s.
The top sheet of paper had a note written with the same red marker as the first one.
END THE ENGAGEMENT OR WE END YOUR BASTARD AND HIS PRETTY WHORE MOTHER
Behind the note were several new photos, each more detailed than the last. The first showed the boy on what looked like a school playground, surrounded by classmates and two teachers.
The next shot captured him at a desk in the classroom, his head bent low over his work, lips pressed together in concentration, a pencil gripped in one hand.
The bastards had followed him to school—the one place he should have been safe while neither of his parents were around.
I swallowed hard and examined the images printed on the next pages. My son walking through the park with his mother, my son sitting at a table inside Con Amore, and again my son at the park just down the street while his mother watched him from her seat on a bench.
More photos zeroed in on Val by herself, shopping or tending to customers at the café or approaching the boy’s school.
All those unsettled me enough on their own.
But the last photo made my blood run cold.
A picture of Val and the child lying on the couch, her holding him, echoing the exact view I’d caught myself earlier from the back seat of this very car.
A book propped up in front of them. A teacup and a mug on the table. The most intimate details captured.
A sweet picture on its own.
In context, a living fucking nightmare.
Over the next few minutes, I considered keeping it all to myself. But this was no longer about just me, so I reluctantly handed the envelope to Val.
She had the right to know about any threats made against her and her child.
Maybe a glimpse of this one might help her understand how dangerous it had truly become for them.
With trembling hands, she lifted the envelope flap and peeked inside. A wince contorted her face as she sifted through the photos, but she said nothing.
The next ten minutes of the ride to my estate passed in silence, despite the night we’d all just had.
I breathed in the surrounding scent. Hers, the one overwhelming my senses. Something sweet and flowery, like orange blossoms, with a warm vanilla base.
The same perfume she’d worn back then.
Then and now it took me back to my summers on the Amalfi coast, so beautiful and carefree. Like Val when we first met.
The way she looked at me now told a different story.
She sat between the kid and me, and the dirty looks she shot at me, even over the top of that yellow envelope, showed it was intentional.
Before long, she and I would have one long, incredibly uncomfortable conversation about what came next for us, but it had to wait. It couldn’t happen in front of her son.
My son.
The wrought iron gates rolled open as Tony got us close in the Mercedes. After clearing the stretch inside the gates up to the house, we pulled to a stop beside the wide front steps that led to the front door.
I exited the car first, ignoring the lightheaded waves making things spin. The bullet hole in my arm throbbed with my pulse, although the sharpest pain had dulled some.
Doc needed to get the wound patched up, and soon.
Still, being cared for by my physician in my home didn’t seem as important as the other pressing matters I needed to handle immediately.
That included making sure Val and the boy made it safely inside my home and then remained safe.
I waited until they climbed out of the car before heading for the front door.
“Both of you, follow me,” I ordered.
The maid greeted us first, just inside the door. Pretty little thing, quiet as a mouse, obedient to a fault. She’d proven to be one of a kind, which allowed me to trust her.
She held her eyes downcast, stepped aside, and gestured to the staircase.
“The doctor’s waiting for you, sir.”
“Thank you, Bella. Show my guests up to their suite.”
“Yes, sir. Right away.”
The girl said this every time I asked her to do something, but now with Val and the boy behind me, Bella’s answer caught my attention differently.
What would it feel like if Val called me sir?
The alluring thought didn’t come as any surprise.
I looked over my shoulder at Val.
The corner of my mouth twitched. I frowned to suppress the smirk and to stop my cock from getting hard.
As if she could read my mind, she shot back a spiteful glare before following my maid up the staircase and down the main hallway.
The guest suite and my suite were at opposite ends of the house, and for the first time, I realized the inconvenience.
I didn’t like that she would be so far away.
After Bella, Val, and the boy disappeared, I headed up, going right instead of left. The doors lining the hallway all remained shut. I passed by them and went into my office.
The doctor waited there for me.
And with him… Benedetta's father. Benedict Capaldo.
Fuck. The night just kept getting better and better.
“You have some explaining to do, son,” he said.
He’d already helped himself to my whiskey and stood at the bar to fill his glass again. Then he sat his fat ass in my father’s chair, his impeccable Brioni suit and perfect posture the embodiment of good health.
But I knew better.
He’d failed to hide the smear of makeup on his collar, the makeup he used to cover up the pale gray pallor of his skin.
It hadn’t helped alleviate the dark circles under his eyes.
The antiseptic they used to prep his skin for the chemo he received in the privacy of his home burned the lining of my nose.
Images of things I’d seen—like the young nurse sneaking into his house dressed as his favorite prostitute to hide the fact that he needed medical intervention—wormed their way into my mind with the acrid odor.
If he had been anyone else, I wouldn’t have allowed him to sit behind my desk. Such a blatant challenge of my authority and the lack of respect wouldn’t have gone unpunished otherwise.
But I knew he went to great pains to hide his illness, and he’d taken the only chair with a back high enough to keep him from slumping over.
I didn’t have the energy to berate him for maintaining his facade while inside my home.
He successfully maintained the ruse, just not with me.
The man would be on his way out soon enough.
For the second time that day, I stripped off a white shirt ruined with bloodstains, this time my blood, and sat in another chair, so Dr. Avery could get to work.
Then I responded to my future father-in-law’s daring comment and ignored the sting from the doctor’s poking and prodding around the bullet hole in my arm.
“I’m surprised to hear you think I owe you anything.”
“Do you think my daughter deserves to be treated with such disrespect?”
He paused before continuing, still unmoving in my chair.
“You’re to marry her in two days, Stefano, and no one knew about the bastard you’ve been hiding in Brooklyn. Now you have him and his mother in your home, and everything’s supposed to carry on as usual, is it? People are going to talk.
“And it won’t be about how lovely the wedding was or what a wonderful couple you and my daughter make. You owe me quite an explanation, especially since you clearly intend on housing your own shameful secret under the same roof you intend to share with your wife once?—”
I spun too quickly toward the dying man sitting behind my desk to cut him off, forcing the doc to scramble to keep up with my arm.
“Who I choose to house under my roof is not your concern.”
If I didn’t need the medical attention, I probably would have been on my feet, towering over this small, ailing man, reminding him exactly who he was dealing with.
The threat of violence wasn’t necessary with Capaldo anyway. He was too weak.
“You have some secrets of your own, Don Capaldo,” I added. “Maybe that slipped your mind while you’ve been so interested in my affairs. We both know why you’re eager to marry off your daughter as quickly as possible. If I were you, I would rethink your attempts to lecture me or renegotiate our arrangement.”
I gnashed my teeth through the pain from the doc digging around in my flesh with a metal instrument to find the slug I’d been carrying around in there.
Then I refocused on Capaldo with a biting glare.
“And don’t ever call me ‘son’ again.”
“Do you think you’re worthy of my daughter?” he asked.
I shrugged my shoulder.
“You’re about two years too late to worry about my worth. But if you’re changing your mind about our arrangement now, then call it off. I won’t hold you to our contract.”
Muffled choking and wheezing came from the living skeleton sitting in my chair.
“What? That’s not… I…”
“It’s fine,” I said. “I’m sure you can find a suitable replacement for Benedetta’s hand before the cancer finishes what it started. Of course, that won’t mitigate all your problems. People will still talk. Only in this scenario, they’ll be talking about the bride and what she must have done to disgrace herself so badly.
“Very few things are worth calling off a wedding at the last minute. Unfortunately, the families have always been quick to blame the bride in situations like this. That hasn’t changed. It isn’t fair, and it won’t change as quickly as you need it to, now that you’ve changed your mind about me.”
I shifted again in my seat to face him more fully, almost smiling at the simplicity of how easy it was to silence him.
“So tell me, Don Capaldo, do you think you can find another suitable man for Benedetta in time? More importantly, I think, what will happen if you don’t?”
Capaldo looked me up and down for a few seconds, then slammed the crystal whiskey tumbler on the desk. The liquor sloshed over the side, splattering across the wood surface, but he paid it no mind.
I thought maybe I heard his bones creaking as he threw himself out of the chair and marched across the room without a word or even a glance in my direction.
Throwing a tantrum wouldn’t change anything about his situation, but at least he’d mustered enough physical strength to make it look somewhat convincing.
On his way out, with all his blustering and fuming, Capaldo almost crashed into Tony. My second-in-command narrowly avoided bowling the man over before stepping into the room and pulling the door shut behind him.
“Do you think he's behind the threat?” Tony asked.
I’d already considered it.
Capaldo needed this wedding to happen. No better match existed for Benedetta, especially not since her father’s life became shorter by the day. And who knew, maybe the old man had grown a conscience as he drew so close to his death.
I pushed the doctor aside and went to the bar to pour myself three fingers of whiskey. I threw it back in one long swallow, hoping to take the edge off the pain.
“No, I don't think he has anything to do with it.”
Tony clasped his hands in front of himself.
“So then who could it be?”
“I don't know. Not a clue at this point.”
Noting the smooth aftertaste lingering on my tongue, I eyed the whiskey bottle again, a thirty-four-year aged Macallan, but then decided against having another.
“The Commission?” he asked.
“It goes against everything the Commission stands for, but it wouldn't be the first time they’ve broken their own rules. No, seems like there’s another player involved, which would make more sense in the long run.
“Suspecting the Commission is the obvious reaction. But not mine, if you can believe it. Part of me wonders if this is a power grab from a smaller outfit trying to play with the big boys. Find out who else Capaldo considered for Benedetta before me.”
Tony nodded but didn’t move to leave right away.
“Is there something else, Tony?”
“Yes, sir. Bruce called a few minutes ago.”
“And?”
“The cops got a tail on the shooter but called it off after he put two of ’em down. Whoever this guy is, he’s reckless enough to brand himself a cop killer, Stef. He’s going to bring more attention down on us than we can afford right now.”
I poured myself that second glass after all.
“Fuck.”