Chapter 16
CHAPTER 16
VAL
Benedetta Capaldo came back into the kitchen on her way out to say goodbye. She didn’t hesitate to accept the bag of cookies Enzo had set aside for her.
I’d assumed she would politely decline with an excuse about too many carbs or maybe about fitting into her wedding dress.
She proved me wrong by opening the bag right away, pulling out a cookie, and devouring it.
Surprising move for a woman getting married the next day.
Had she just moaned while chewing the last bite?
“Oh god, how do they taste even better than they smell?”
Enzo put his quick-witted humor on full display for her.
“Witchcraft.”
Benedetta stared at him for a second, then she burst out laughing as he flashed a huge grin at her.
One day, my son would be a lady killer, likely sooner than later at this rate. There was no stopping it.
Like father, like son, damn it.
“Have another espresso with it. That’s the secret,” he added.
Mother of Christ, had he just winked at her?
Then he pushed a button on the espresso machine, waiting patiently for the little cup to fill before handing it to Benedetta.
Stefano’s espresso machine made an excellent cup. If I could get away with it and didn’t have to leave in a hurry when it was time, I would take it along with the robe I planned to steal.
When Benedetta and Enzo’s small talk ended, she finished her drink with another cookie, then made her excuses to leave, hauling out with her a bag filled with a dozen cookies at my son’s insistence.
He and I would have a talk about older women before long.
His reaction to her, and more importantly, her reaction to him, confirmed for me that Benedetta had nothing to do with the threat against us. She showed the same level of sweetness she had years ago, and I could see it was just as genuine now.
Shifting gears, I began preparing myself for Stefano’s impending delivery of the “my fiancée doesn't want you and my bastard son living under my roof” speech.
I knew he had to do it, and I didn’t blame Benedetta. Not after what had happened between Stefano and me in his office.
Knowing that speech would come should have thrilled me.
It would make things much easier when it came time for me to escape with my son, making the likelihood of getting out without being noticed higher. Exactly what I’d been hoping for.
Or was it?
The thought didn’t give me the relief I had expected. No, a strange hollowness gnawed at my stomach instead.
A familiar sensation, the one I had experienced the day I discovered Stefano’s true identity, then again when I realized I could never be with him.
But it didn’t end there.
The feeling had returned when my one and only pregnancy test revealed those two little pink lines. And then again more recently… just the night before when I forced myself to leave Stefano in his office alone.
Maybe five minutes later, he came in wearing black slacks and a dark blue shirt that made his eyes pop. He’d left the top buttons open, revealing some of the ink on his chest.
This man’s presence when he entered a room was powerful.
The small smile dangling at the corner of his mouth made me wonder if he knew that, and if he knew how devastatingly handsome he looked.
I shivered.
He waved the yellow envelope in his hand, and I assumed it contained whatever he’d prepared to give me in exchange for taking Enzo and leaving his house and his life forever.
I didn't want his money, but turning it down might prolong the entire situation.
We both needed out.
As Stefano approached the island, he held my gaze, and his eyes grew darker.
“Let’s talk,” he said.
I smiled, quickly realizing how many times I’d offered the same fake smile to the unpleasant customers at Con Amore. The people I didn’t want to deal with.
“Of course, but privately.” I turned to Enzo. “Hey buddy, why don’t you head to your room and get cleaned up, then watch a little TV?”
My son studied my face for a minute, then hit Stefano with a serious expression that I’d never seen on my baby’s face before.
Then Enzo pulled his gaze back to me and smiled.
“Okay, Mama. See you later.”
As he headed upstairs, the oven’s timer went off, conveniently giving me a minute to gather my thoughts while I pulled out the cookie sheets, set them on the counter, slid the last two into the oven, and set a final timer for baking.
When I turned around, Stefano had started on a cookie while nailing me with a heated but otherwise unreadable stare.
“So when does she want us out?” I asked.
I supposed I could have danced around the subject and extended the fantasy I’d stupidly allowed myself to fall into over the last few hours, but that would just make the inevitable even more painful.
“When does who ‘want you out’ of where?”
Stefano took another bite of his cookie, his lips lifting into a slight smile as he chewed.
I’d forgotten these were his favorite.
Keeping my eyes focused on the motion of the dishcloth, I wiped down the back countertop.
“Your fiancée,” I said. “She’s beautiful.”
“Is she? I hadn’t noticed.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Um, yes, you have. Men like you always notice a beautiful woman.”
“I might notice when a woman is attractive, Valerie, but I haven't thought of another woman as beautiful in a decade.”
The smoothness of his words made my legs weaken and my heart flutter.
And I hated him for it.
I hated how easily he manipulated me into wanting him.
“Look,” I blurted. “I don’t know what kind of arrangement you and Benedetta have, and it's none of my business. But I need you to know I will never be your mistress or your whore or the woman on the side, whatever you want to call it. Benedetta deserves better than that, and so do I.”
The words tumbled out of my mouth in a heated, slurred mess, and I hoped he understood because I couldn't bear to look up and meet his eyes again.
I couldn't risk him seeing the lie in mine.
After snatching up a spatula, I moved cookies from a baking sheet to the cooling rack, focusing so intently on the task that I didn't hear Stefano come around the island. I didn’t realize he stood behind me until he put his hands on my waist and pulled me backward against his chest.
He smelled so good, the rich spice and woody notes in his cologne overlapping but not overpowering his own scent.
I wanted to turn and bury my face in the hollow of his throat and let him hold me. Instead, I didn’t respond at all, keeping my eyes on the cookies.
He slid his hands to my hips and spoke close to my ear.
“I need you to tell me about the men in your life.”
“Stefano,” I whispered. “That’s none of your business.”
It might have been convincing if I hadn't been so breathless.
I still couldn't hide how his touch affected me.
“I promise you, this isn’t about me being possessive, Val. I’m not jealous, and I won’t get mad. But I need to know about the different men in your life. All of them.”
“It doesn't matter.”
“It absolutely matters,” he growled. “No one touches you but me. Your body belongs to me, and you will not allow another man to have what is mine.”
The liar. He did get jealous and a little angry.
And I liked it.
I had to brace myself against the counter to keep from melting into him. If I wasn’t careful, our desk session would repeat itself right there in the kitchen. Then I would probably have to explain to Enzo why I had powdered sugar in my hair.
“How does your fiancée feel about that?”
If my question wasn’t enough to douse us both with metaphorical ice water, I didn’t know what else could.
It seemed to work because he stepped back and tossed the yellow envelope around me onto the island.
A cloud of powdered sugar puffed into the air beneath the envelope’s weight slapping down onto the stone.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“It's why I need to know everything.”
I opened the envelope and removed its contents. More pictures like those in the first envelope he’d shown me, but now there were even more. Many included similar shots of Enzo and me walking to school, spending the day at the park, shopping…
Bile rose in my throat as I stared at a new type of photo.
The pictures focused on Enzo and me together or just one of us alone, but they no longer remained purely in public places. No, now I saw images of my son and me on the couch reading or together in the back of the café. Someone had taken photos right outside our apartment.
Someone had been watching us in our home.
One showed Enzo in his bed, where he should have been safe and comfortable in the privacy of his own home. Several other photos had captured shots of me through my bedroom window while I undressed to get ready for bed.
These were intimate, private moments of our lives.
My heart raced.
I had never felt so violated.
“Not just your lovers,” Stefano said. “I need to know about friends, employees, vendors, the men who are regulars at the café. Anyone you interact with frequently.”
While trying my best to hold back the tears threatening to spill over, I looked up at him.
“Why?” I choked out.
How could I have failed so miserably and remained so clueless until now?
He pulled me against his body again, as if that might be the secret password to get me to tell him everything all at once.
“Just tell me, Val.”
He felt so warm, so safe. I wanted to close my eyes and indulge in the fantasy of this being my life, of this being my kitchen, my home, with my husband holding me and cherishing me while our son was safe and protected upstairs in his room.
Where some psycho with a camera and a rifle couldn't get to us.
I’d been so stupid.
I didn't understand how they observed us so closely and for so long. I should have run the first time I felt the eyes on me. This mess was all my fault, the product of my recklessness and complacency.
Whoever had taken the photos, they found it possible because of me. Because I’d gotten too comfortable in my cozy little life.
Now it was only a matter of time before another someone came to find me and take me back.
Stefano wasn’t the only one I had to protect Enzo from… I needed to remember what was at stake, the whole picture. If the other man found me, if he found my son, it would all be over.
I needed to run fast and far.
But would any place be far enough away to keep us safe?
I had no idea. I’d gotten myself in too deep. The whole thing was completely beyond me.
Stefano pressed his lips to my temple for a surprisingly tender kiss, pulling me back into the present moment.
“What are you thinking about right now?” he asked. “When you see these pictures, what name flashes through your mind? There must be at least one.”
He wanted to know what my instincts told me at first sight.
There had been a name, but the man that name belonged to couldn’t have done this. No, much too sloppy. He wouldn’t have allowed that.
If it had been that person, that name, I wouldn’t have made it this far. Stefano would have been dead by now, and Enzo ripped from my arms to fulfill a familial obligation. And me? They would have sent me away to repay a debt that ended only with my life.
I had no more power than that in this person’s eyes. Just a bargaining chip and a whore, and that was all.
“I don't know,” I murmured.
Because I didn't.
The monster I feared more than any other simply couldn’t have been the one behind it.
The threat on our lives right now wasn’t nearly as big as the threat Stefano posed to my son, but it was still far more dangerous than I could handle.
Then again, whatever Stefano might do to me was nothing compared to the horrors waiting for me in Chicago.
I turned in Stefano's arms to face him, looking into his eyes.
“Tell me why this is happening. I want to know the truth. Tell me what they want.”
“They want me to call off the wedding,” he said. “They want to make sure I don't marry Benedetta tomorrow. And they got their wish. The wedding is off.”
“Well, that’s a nice sentiment, but tell me what you're actually going to do.”
I didn’t believe for one second he could truly give up a beautiful bride like that, not to mention the Capaldo fortune right along with her.
“That is what I'm doing.”
Stefano dipped his head closer, his dark eyes searching mine.
“The wedding’s off. Whoever is doing this gets exactly what he wants. I'm going to continue letting him think he has won, that he wore me down, but I'm still going to hunt him down, and when I find him, I’ll destroy him?—”
“And then you'll marry Benedetta,” I finished.
He touched my cheek with the back of his warm fingers.
“No. I said there will be no wedding.”
I shook my head and let out a small, nervous laugh.
“You don't have to lie to me. You're not doing that for a woman you forgot about and a child you didn't even know you had. I know you, Stefano. You’ll never give up control of the two largest mafia families outside of the Commission.”
He gripped my upper arms, pushing me back, and the intensity of his gaze flared to a new level.
“How do you know about that?”
My heartbeat thumped in my throat. My mouth ran dry. But somehow, I shrugged it off and pretended like I didn’t know what he was talking about.
“I don’t know,” I said. “In passing conversation? I’ve been overhearing a lot of talk between you and your men.”
Then I flinched, realizing I’d just made one of the biggest mistakes of all. I’d shown him a glimpse of my cards, at the wrong time, for the wrong reason.
How fucking stupid could I be, over and over again?
Stefano dug his fingers deeper into my flesh.
His jaw muscle flexed.
“My men don’t discuss those details around you, Valerie, and the Commission is the last thing on anyone’s mind right now. Because we’re focused on finding the son of a bitch who tried to murder you and our son.”
He tilted his head and studied my face, his painful grip bruising my arms.
“How do you know so much about Benedetta’s family? And how the fuck do you know anything about the goddamn Commission?”