Hard Up: A Military Mafia Romance (14 page)

V
i stood
in the grand ballroom of The Ritz-Carlton in New York, trying not to cry. Her father’s men swirled around her, smiling and telling jokes. Vi wasn’t in much of a joke-telling mood, but then again no one cared.

She was the heir apparent to the mafia throne, and they were only interested in one thing: being the next Don. In this family, that went by marriage, like the royals.

Or so her father said.

She raised her eyes and spotted Antonio Valetti across the room. He wore a pinstripe suit and the assured smile of someone who was getting what he wanted. Actually, in that, he looked the same as every other man in here.

She brushed her hands over the black, floor-length satin dress she’d been forced to don. It was her second débutante party, after all.

Her father made his way over to her, giving her a
look
that once would’ve sent her scurrying to do his bidding. She looked away instead, pretending to admire a glass sculpture.

“You’re not talking to anyone,” her father said.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” she said, raising her chin. “You made me come here. You don’t like me, that’s not my fault.”

Her father scowled. “You will be pleasant and biddable. What you do after you get home is none of my business.”

“Fat chance.”

He grabbed her arm, drawing her off to the side. His fingers dug in, painful.

“You’re hurting me,” she told him.

“I don’t care what you’ve been doing, who you’ve been seeing, all right?” he said, close to her face. “Forget about that. You’re going to do as I say, or your Irish boyfriend gets it.”

She blanched. “What do you even care about this for? Why extract me from a life where I’m happy, to shove me in whatever hole that you see fit?”

“Because you’re
mine
goddammit!” He leaned in, whispering. “Whatever your mother told you, her little escapade wasn’t worth it, because I got her in the end, didn’t I?”

Viola’s look of complete horror was met with nothing but a little laugh.

“What, you thought your mom could run around on me?” he said. “I took care of her. The way I’ll take care of you and your Cúram friends if you don’t listen to me. Now go talk to my guys, and
be friendly
.”

He gave her a little shove, pushed her right into the middle of a group of supporters. Most keen amongst them being Richie Vertucci, her father’s right-hand man.

Richie was almost forty, with slicked back dark hair and a creepy smile, like he was thinking about how he was going to kill you later. He’d risen to prominence while Vi had been gone, and was her father’s confidante.

Richie came over to Viola, his smile smugger than usual.

“Hey.”

She gave him a baleful look in return, not saying a word.

“You know, I think you should be nicer to me. I’m the only shot you got for a normal life.”

What about him is normal? Doesn’t he know he works for the mob?

“Well, it just so happens I don’t agree with any of this, so…”

“Life’s gonna be hard if you don’t have a partner.”

She stared at him. “My father’s forcing me to marry.”

“He’s just doing what he thinks is best.”

“For
him
. He’s doing what’s best for him. I’m just a way of passing on the crown.”

“I’m sure that’s not all there is to it.”

“Yeah, well. He just copped to murdering my mother to keep her from having an affair, so…” She felt another wave of tears coming on. It was impossible to stay in the ballroom. “Excuse me.”

She went through the lobby to grand golden elevators, taking one up to the top floor. Her room was the biggest of the suites up here, taking up half the floor. She swiped her card, went in, and sat down on the first thing she saw — a velveteen pouf.

She put her head in her hands. She was so far away from Savannah, so far from Callum and the whole disaster she’d left in her wake. No doubt, Callum was elbow deep in some stranger’s pussy by now.

The thought made her ache inside.

And yet, trouble followed her all the way to New York City. Trouble was sitting on her shoulder, waiting to come out and play.

I have to know,
she told herself.
I need to know, once and for all, that no part of him has made its home in me. Because that would be…

She shook herself, then got up. She moved through the suite, closing herself in the bathroom and locking the door.

She picked up the pregnancy test. She’d had it since the airport, but she’d been hoping that her period would come and she wouldn’t have to take it.

It’s just stress
, she told herself as she peed on the stick.
That’s why you haven’t had your period.

The wait to allow the urine to develop was
forever
. She did a little dance while she waited, born of nervousness.

Just getting it over with, she reminded herself. That’s the name of the game.

And then, the test was done. Two lines…

What does two lines mean?

She scrabbled for the box, which she’d already thrown away. She got it out of the trashcan, searching for the directions.

Two lines… two lines…

She lowered the box. She was… pregnant?

Holy shit
.

S
he sat
on the bed in her suite, looking at four positive pregnancy tests. Four different brands, nonetheless. She’d paid the maids a handsome fee each to get her the tests, and for their discretion.

At least she hoped that expectation for discretion had been communicated — she’d been a bit hysterical at the time.

She’d gone through the disbelief and feeling wretched and wondering if Callum would ever find out. She’d even forced herself to think about terminating the pregnancy.

After all, she believed in a woman’s right to choose.

But… she couldn’t do it. It was Callum’s baby, and hers. They’d made it together, made a
life
.

How could she just throw that away?

Now, she was just tired. She scooped all the tests up, depositing them in the trashcan. She’d stripped out of her dress an hour ago, and was now favoring pajamas with little elephants all over them.

There was a faint knocking from the door. She got up and went out into the main room, just as the door opened. Her father walked in, a smile on his face.

“You left the party early,” he said, coming in with one of his men that Viola didn’t know. He held an envelope, large and manila, but didn’t comment on it.

“I couldn’t— I wasn’t feeling well.”

“I see. Well, despite all your attempts to be as disagreeable as possible, I had six proposals tonight.”

Viola looked at him, then sat opposite. “Is that so?”

Her father pursed his lips.

“Yep. And since you’re so worried about it, here are the six.” He handed her the manila envelope. “You choose.”

She opened the envelope. It had briefs on each of the men who’d proposed, detailing everything from their position in the mob down to what each one liked for breakfast.

“Me?” she said, looking at up him with a shocked expression.

“I don’t want to hear that you complaining that you had no choice.”

She gaped at him. How in the world was she supposed choose without meeting them? Without knowing them well?

“All right. You can let me know tomorrow,” he said, standing up.

“Tomorrow?!”

“Yeah. And do it by noon — I gotta let the lucky guy know. You and him are on the first flight from here to Miami.”

Her look of complete bewilderment made him laugh.

“The new son-in-law promised to run Miami, until things settle down.”

“You mean until
I
settle down.”

He shrugged. “Whichever comes first. I’m gonna tell whichever one you pick that a grandchild seals the deal, as far as I’m concerned.”

She almost blurted,
“Guess what? You’re in luck!”
but knew there would major repercussions. Honestly, the grandchild news was the least of her worries.

“You look here,” he said. “You’re gonna go where I tell you to go, do what I tell you to do. From here on out, it’s a whole new world for you.”

“You know when I get married, I’ll no longer
belong
to you.”

He sucked his teeth. “What I know is that you’re gonna get your slutty ass in a wedding gown and marry this guy, and you’re not gonna give me any more lip about it. Otherwise, my boys are gonna make a call on… what’s his name again?”

She glared at him, furious but silent. When she didn’t say any more, he just nodded, and left the suite.

She was left alone, to stew over his list of names and their short files.

Getting up, she took the manila file into her bedroom and spread out the briefs. For a minute, she worked at organizing them by age and relative goodness. There were a couple who were objectively too old. There were also the ones who had serious criminal pasts.

Sergio Valucci, at thirty-three years of age, had already been booked with three counts of criminal manslaughter. It never stuck, but his rap sheet was a mile long.

Imagine trying to raise a child around that
, she thought. Then,
imagine trying to raise a child around any of these guys. These guys have no valor!

The thought drove her to tears. She wanted nothing more than to call Callum, to apologize for leaving the way the way she had. To ask for him to come save her from this self-imposed hell she was in.

Foolishly, she checked her messages on her brand-new phone. But it was ridiculous — he wouldn’t even have the number.

She knew he was probably getting some huge pair of fake tits waved in his face right now, not thinking of her at all. Still, she hoped he thought of her sometimes, thought of how good they were together.

Not that we were even official…

She cleared the bed off with a single sweep, nestling down in the blankets.

Savannah was far away. This was her new reality, one she really needed to deal with. One she would be forced to deal with, eventually.

But not tonight.

C
allum landed at JFK
, unsure how to proceed.

He walked out of the terminal, putting on a pair of sunglasses, and waved down a taxi.

He might not know anything about Viola or where she was, but he knew where the mafia hung out, where they liked to be seen. It was old information, but it was a start.

Heading into the city, he gave the driver the address of a casual Italian restaurant, somewhere guys too lame to be made men hung out. They wouldn’t know anything of course, but if they were anything like the Irish’s castoffs, it would be easy getting them to talk.

And once he got them talking about women, something would slip.

When he got to the place, he got out of the car and tipped the driver handsomely. He’d only brought a small overnight bag, because he had no earthly idea how this was going to play out.

He pushed up his sunglasses, scoping the place out.

It was a little Italian bistro, a place he’d normally never be caught dead. He walked inside, past the outdoor tables, eyeing the men he came to see on one side of the restaurant, and was stopped at the host stand.

“Just yourself?” a young brunette asked.

“Just me.”

“Alright. If you’ll follow me…”

She started to take him to the empty side of the cafe, assuming he’d want some privacy.

“Actually, if I could just sit over here,” he said, pointing. “I want to be able to watch my car.”

She accepted his bluff with a smile and took him to the right side of the restaurant.

“Will this be fine?” she asked.

He glanced at the five men. Jogging suits, gold chains, and every one of them was holding. And they were only three tables away. He smiled at the waitress.

“This’ll be fine.”

She took his drink order and went away, leaving him alone with the guys. As good time as any for an introduction.

“Hey, excuse me,” Callum asked. “Do any of you guys know where I can get the best hoagie?”

Five pairs of eyes looked at him, but no one answered.

He tried again. “My uncle Vito says it’s Rita’s Bakery, but all the guidebooks say it’s Hogan’s Hoagies.”

“Vito got a last name?” one of the guys asked.

“Valetti.”

He saw the guys look at each other, uncertain. Vito Valetti was a big name around here, for all intents and purposes.

“I’m his nephew, in town for a conference,” Callum said. “Ricky’s the name.”

“Really. While he’s out of town on a cruise?” another guy said.

“Uh… yeah. Didn’t schedule the conference, ya know?” he said.

“Uh-huh. What’s Vito’s favorite movie of all time?”

Shit. Think fast.

“Well, I don’t know if it’s his favorite, but we’ve watched The Godfather Part II together more times than I can count,” he lied.

The table was silent. For a second, he thought that he was wrong, that he was going to die in a shitty Italian bistro in a city he didn’t even like.

There was a creak as one of the guys stood up, then walked over to examine Callum.

“I knew that bastard liked The Godfather best,” he said to Callum. “Say, I’m Andy. Nice to meet you.”

Callum and Andy shook hands, and Andy insisted that he join their table.

“Sit, sit!”

They sat him down and stuffed him full of Italian food, which he complimented loudly every opportunity, asked him more questions about Vito’s alleged past. Callum bluffed his way through, using what little he knew about the mob.

It worked, through no real doing of his own. When the moment came to turn the conversation to women, Callum jumped at the chance.

“Where did you say you’re visiting from again?”

“Boston.”

“I didn’t know Vito had relatives in Boston.”

“Well, my mother moved there when she was in college. The Family doesn’t rule everybody, you know? Except those with wives.”

Callum casually name-dropped the mob like it was yesterday’s business. Andy looked suitably impressed.

“Just everybody that’s smart. And then there’s our women, running the show…”

Everyone present laughed.

“Yeah. I tell you, my ma told me this crazy story about some big mobster’s daughter who ran away. Said that they never found her!” Callum said.

“You know what? God’s honest truth, she came back this week. I swear on my mother’s grave!”

“No way,” Callum said. “She’s like… back here?”

“Yeah. Get this: she’s the Don’s daughter.”

“No,” he said, feeling like a gossipy housewife.

“Yep. Saw her myself last night at that event the Don was hosting. The Don is
taking applications for his daughter’s hand
. Easy way of saying, calm her down and I’ll make sure you’re made reaaaaal big.”

“Oh yeah? I bet the party was at their house, real fancy,” Callum said, trying to get a location on the party.

“Nah, the Don pulled out all the stops. That, and his house ain’t as secure as a hotel. He had the party at The Ritz.”

“Huh. Must’ve been nice.”

“Yeah, I left after she ran out, ‘bout halfway through. Like I said, it’s more for the unmarried guys.”

“When did you say they’re getting married?” Callum asked.

“I didn’t. The Don is keeping it all hush-hush. I heard the Don is shipping the little brat and the husband off to Miami after they’re married, though. That’s gotta be sweet, for the man who gets to do the honors!”

“Sure does!” Callum said. Meanwhile, below the table, he was trying not to crack his knuckles in anticipation of the ass he was going to kick.

Nobody touched anything that was his… and she definitely qualified.

He said and made conversation for a few more minutes, then thanked them and left.

Vito was either going to be confused or pissed when he returned to find that his nephew had been here, and been told so much.
Served him right for going on a cruise.

Callum grabbed his overnight bag, walked a couple blocks, then called an Uber.

It was time to head downtown, see what he could see.