Salvatore: a Dark Mafia Romance (18 page)

Shoving those thoughts aside, I made a pot of tea then closed the curtains on all the windows. From the bookshelf in the study, I found some old photo albums. Taking two of them, I settled on the couch to wait for my sister to call or come home.

That was when I heard the creaking of a door and footsteps coming from the back bedroom, the one my parents had converted on the main floor.

I turned my head. “Effie?” But it couldn’t be her. I’d waited until she’d fallen asleep upstairs.

The hair on the back of my neck stood on end, and I watched the dark hallway as the steps grew closer. Terrified and unable to drag my gaze away from the shadowy space, I fumbled for my cell phone on the coffee table.

I knew who it was. Who it had to be. But still, when Dominic stepped into the light in the living room, I gasped, shocked, suddenly shaking when my gaze fell on the pistol he held at his side.

“Toss the phone, Lucia.”

I
walked back
into the meeting room at my father’s house. About a dozen men were gathered around the table, all family, cousins and uncles. My father raised his eyebrows but didn’t comment on my having left the room to take the call.

I hated leaving Lucia alone. She didn’t know to what extent things had progressed in the last twelve hours. Hell, I was shocked to hear it all myself.

After I’d left Dominic’s house, my father had apparently gone ballistic on my brother. Roman filled me in on the details. Franco had been furious with Dominic. So much so that he’d apologized to Natalie himself. I knew he was going to her house to make sure she knew he would protect her, but to apologize? That wasn’t Franco Benedetti’s style.

He’d also stationed men at her house when she’d refused to come to the city with him and stay at his house until things settled. She’d had no choice in the matter. He would do whatever he needed to do to protect his grandson.

And he had sent Dominic to the house in Florida to cool off. To
“get his head out of his ass”
were apparently his exact words.

The shooting of Luke DeMarco had surprised my father. It wasn’t done on his order and obviously not on mine. The video footage only showed two masked men walking into the bowling alley and opening fire. It was a wonder more people weren’t hurt.

Two of our businesses, one a restaurant and another, a bicycle shop, both of which fronted for money-laundering operations, had been attacked, but no one had been killed. Nothing of the businesses connected directly to us, so investigators would not find anything linking the crimes, but this was only the beginning. Money was taken from both businesses, but the amount of cash wouldn’t have warranted the burglaries.

No, a message was being sent.

This was the prelude to a war.

But Luke DeMarco’s shooting threw us off. He was working with the Pagani family. Why would he have been attacked?

That was the piece that gave us all pause.

“I feel real uneasy about this,” I said. “They wouldn’t have attacked DeMarco. Hell, if things had progressed to this point, DeMarco wouldn’t have been at a fucking bowling alley. Something isn’t right. It’s someone else.”

“Isabella?” my father asked.

Roman glanced at me.

“I saw her at the hospital. She’s beside herself.”

“You were at the hospital?” he asked.

I’d told Roman where I was, but not my father. “They’re Lucia’s family.”

His lips tightened. “You miss the point of everything.”

“By point of everything, you mean my treatment of Lucia.” I knew. It wasn’t a question. “If it’s the fact I’m not a monster to her, then you’re right, I miss your point. Maybe you should have given her to Dominic after all.” The thought sickened me, but my saying it out loud to him, and in front of other members of the family, it only reaffirmed the fact that I would never allow that to happen.

My father made no reply, which surprised me. But it also strengthened me.

Every man in the room seemed to be holding their breath.

“Leave Lucia out of this. She’s my concern and mine alone. Period. Let’s talk about the damage done, who’s behind it, and what we’re doing about it.”

He exhaled but turned his attention back to the task at hand. I assumed he’d deal with me later, but when that time came, he’d learn there would be no more dealing with me. My strings had been cut. I was no longer his puppet.

Maybe it took that contract to teach me that, to break me from my weakness, my cowardice when it came to Franco Benedetti. If any good could come out of something as terrible as stealing a life, this had to be it.

“Back to who is behind this,” Roman began. “I believe the Pagani family is carrying out the attacks. I don’t believe Isabella DeMarco would have her cousin assassinated. Assuming that was the intent.”

“What else would it be? They put two bullets in him,” I said.

Roman agreed. “Maybe Isabella is a bigger threat than we gave her credit for. Maybe Luke was an underling, a cover for her.”

“Maybe the Pagani family is acting alone?” I added.

“No.” My father shook his head. “I’ve spoken with the senior Paul Pagani.”

Paul Pagani Sr., an eighty-six-year-old man who still refused to hand over the reins of the family business to his son. Although knowing the son, I understood why.

“He has not authorized any shootings, and he is aware of talks between DeMarco and his son. When he learned of it, he forbade any action.”

“But his son could have gone behind his back,” Roman added.

“And attempted to kill Luke DeMarco?” Stefano, one of my cousins, asked.

“There’s something we’re missing,” I said, shaking my head.

I caught Roman’s concerned look.

“Pagani has stated if it is his men who carried out the shootings without his permission, they’ll be dealt with, but I’m not satisfied,” my father said. His phone rang, and he looked at the display. “Excuse me.”

He stood, and although he didn’t leave the room, he turned his back to the table and walked a few steps away.

The men at the table continued to talk, but Roman and I remained silent, listening to the call.

“What do you mean?” my father asked, checking his watch. “That was hours ago.” Silence on the line. “You’ve tried him? His driver?” Silence. “Fine. Reschedule it. And find him.”

When he turned to us again, he immediately met my gaze and gestured to the door. Roman also stood, and the three of us stepped into the hall and closed the conference room door behind us.

“Dominic didn’t make his flight.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, alarm bells sounding.

“I mean that was the fucking captain, calling to say he was about to lose his time slot,” my father snapped.

I watched him try to call Dominic, but the call went directly to voice mail.

“His driver is missing as well.”

“Missing?” Roman asked.

My father placed another call and spoke into the phone. “Get Natalie and Jacob packed up and to my house. I don’t care what you have to do to make that happen, but get them here now.”

“I have to go,” I said, pulling my phone from my pocket.

“Godamnit, I need you here, Salvatore!”

I stopped, took a deep breath in, and turned to face him.

“Dominic has always wanted what you have,” my father stated. “What you will inherit from me once I am ready to retire. That’s no secret, not for any of us.”

I listened in silence.

“I don’t like all of the things he does,” he continued, the words obviously difficult to say. “I sometimes don’t like who he is.” He breathed in deeply. “But he is still your brother.”

I shifted on my feet. My father didn’t usually resort to making me feel guilty to do something I didn’t want to do, and I wasn’t sure that’s what he was doing now, but what he said triggered something akin to guilt inside me.

“I was harsh with him when I learned what he did to Natalie,” he said.

“No, not harsh,” I disagreed. “It needed to be done. Dominic was the only person in the wrong on that one. Question is, does he realize it? Does
he
think so?”

My father ran his hand through his thinning hair and sat on the chair just beneath the window. Seeing him weary—it was strange, felt wrong. I’d only ever seen my father as strong. All powerful. And ultimately, always in control.

I always thought I’d celebrate his fall, his weakening.

I went to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“I’ll look for him.”

He sighed, nodded his head, then met my eyes and took my hand. “I’m too fucking old for this.”

“Go upstairs, Franco. I’ll handle the meeting,” Roman offered.

My father looked at him, shook his head, and steeled his spine before standing. “I’ll handle it.”

Roman nodded. We both knew he couldn’t not handle this one. It would be seen as ultimate weakness.

“Dominic is unsatisfied. Always has been,” he said to me. “I’ve always pushed him to want more. It corrupted him in a way.”

I wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault, but wasn’t it? At least partially?

He put his hand on my shoulder and came to within inches of me. He tapped his forefinger against his head. “He’s not right, not now. He can’t accept his place. But remember, he is your brother. Find him, and bring him home. Do that, and I’ll take care of him.”

“
W
hat the hell
are you doing here?” I asked, standing and leaning my weight on my crutches. I didn’t feel half as confident as I somehow managed to sound. “How did you get in?”

He stood in the light just on the other side of the coffee table looking disheveled, his shirt untucked, his hair messy, his face bruised. He gave me a lopsided grin, and I really looked at him for the first time, the dimple on his right cheek disarming me momentarily. His eyes were a light blue-gray, the lashes thick and darker than his blond hair. He was tall, well over six feet, but he had a leaner build than Salvatore, although still muscular. Powerful.

I returned my gaze to his face, saw his grin widen. The darkness in his eyes reminded me who he was.

He tucked the gun into the back of his jeans before reaching into his pocket and taking something out.

I cocked my head to the side when he held it out to show me, not understanding right away.

“I have a key.”

It dawned on me that he held a key to my old house. To the house where my sister and niece lived.

“Isabella gave it to me.”

“I don’t understand.” But I did. I just hadn’t come to terms with it yet. I studied him, taking in his features, comparing them to Effie’s. Although she hadn’t inherited his blond hair, she had similar eyes, although hers were warm, innocent. The rest was Isabella, but there was one thing she shared with Dominic: that dimple in her right cheek. That was from her father.

No.

I had to stop this. What was I thinking? I was talking about my sister here. And Effie’s father could be anyone. It wouldn’t be him.

What about the tests?

Nothing was definitive, not yet.

And the key. Why did Isabella give him a key?

“You’re lying. My sister wouldn’t have given you a key.”

“Why not?”

“She hates you.”

He snorted then went to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a drink. “Want one?”

“No.”

He leaned against the cabinet and watched me as he brought the tumbler to his lips and swallowed the deep amber liquid. I hoped it burned on the way down.

“What do you see in my brother?” he asked.

“What do you want, Dominic? What are you doing here?”

“He’s a puppet to our father. A weak little windup toy who does as he’s told. Who humiliated you. What in hell do you see in him?”

“I see his heart. I see what’s real behind the mask he puts on for you, for your father.”

At that he chuckled and poured himself another drink. “That’s fresh. Now Sergio,” he began, drinking deeply. “He was a man’s man. A man to be respected, like me. Even Franco Benedetti respected him.”

“And you think kidnapping his son makes you respectable? It makes you a monster. A weak, hateful monster.”

He laughed and stalked toward me. I forced myself to stand my ground, even when he stood only inches away, breathing whiskey on my face as his gaze roamed over my body. He looked me in the eye.

“Well then, you may need to actually open your eyes and see the other monsters much closer to home.”

A car pulled up outside, and I exhaled in relief. He stepped away just as a key turned in the lock, and Isabella walked into the house. She stopped in the doorway as soon as she saw him. They exchanged a look before she turned her gaze on me.

I watched her, then him, then her again.

And I was certain.

“What are you doing here?” she asked Dominic, her tone much too casual as she closed the door behind her.

“What, do you two compare notes or something?” he asked, finishing his drink and setting his glass down. “I’m hungry.” He went into the kitchen, leaving us alone.

“Izzy? What the hell is going on?”

She plopped her bag down on the coffee table and rubbed her eyes with her hands. She looked defeated in that moment, and I saw through the tough facade she put on more and more.

“Luke’s out of surgery,” she said, heading to where Dominic had left his glass, filling it with the same whiskey and drinking it down. “He’s going to make it.”

She stood quietly a moment before her body slumped, and she broke into sobs. I went to her and embraced her, the crutches tucked awkwardly under my arms. I held her so tight that she finally surrendered herself, letting herself go, weeping, hugging me back.

“I thought…I thought…God, if he died?” She sucked in a loud breath and wiped her eyes, leaning back. “I prayed, Lucia. I haven’t prayed in five years.” She shook her head. “I love him. I love him, and all I’ve done is hurt him.”

“Luke?” I was so confused.

She nodded, and we walked over to the sofa and sat down.

“He was adopted,” she started, as if that was what I was concerned about. “We’re not blood relatives.”

“I know, Izzy. God, I know. It’s okay. I don’t care. It’s fine.”

“I owe you an explanation. Multiple, probably.”

I nodded.

“Five years ago, more than that, actually, I met Dominic. It was accidental, nothing planned. I was seventeen. It was a party in the woods, and I didn’t know who he was. Same for him. He didn’t know me, and we didn’t exchange last names. It was just Dominic and Isabella. That’s all. We hit it off, and things got heated over the next few weeks. Months.”

“You still didn’t know who he was?” I didn’t believe that.

“By then we knew. Hell, by our third date, we knew. But there was something there. I don’t know what it was, maybe even the whole Romeo and Juliette with warring families and the romance of it all, the sneaking around, meeting in the woods, sitting under the stars. Just us. Together.”

“You fell in love with Dominic Benedetti?”

She nodded her head. “He wasn’t like this, not then. We were each other’s firsts. First love, first…”

“Then you got pregnant.”

“Yes. It was right around when things were coming to a head between the families. Dominic was going to tell his father. I told Papa.”

“That’s why he was so mad.”

She nodded sadly. “I was pregnant with the enemy’s child. Never mind that I was barely an adult and unmarried.”

“He disowned you because it was Dominic’s?”

“Yes. He couldn’t accept it. It shamed him. Infuriated him. Looking at me pissed him off. I think I was the ultimate reminder of his disgrace.”

“How long did he know before you left?”

“A month. He gave me an ultimatum. Abort the baby or lose everything.”

“Abortion? Papa?” He was a devout Catholic. As old school as they came.

She nodded, her eyes glistening again. “I couldn’t do that.” She glanced up the stairs. “I’m so glad I didn’t.”

“Does Franco Benedetti know?”

“No. Dominic never told him. In fact, we stopped seeing each other as soon as I found out I was pregnant. Well, it trickled to a stop. But things were different then. He sent money, though, after I left.”

“Well, isn’t he a prince?”

“We were both kids, Lucia, and I’ve forgiven him. You don’t have to, but this is between him and me.”

“Does Effie know?”

She shook her head. “No one does.”

“Well, I think Salvatore may.” She opened her mouth, but I continued. “He and Roman suspected it was Luke, and Roman had DNA tests done.”

“Fuck.”

“When it came back that Luke couldn’t be the father, Roman, who apparently had his suspicions, used his own DNA to test against it. Traces matched, and he’s running Dominic’s now.”

“My fucking uncle is always sticking his big fucking nose where it doesn’t belong.” Dominic leaned against the entrance to the kitchen eating a sandwich, not bothering to hide the fact he was eavesdropping. “Not that it fucking matters. Not anymore.”

Isabella stood, suddenly fuming, and went to him. “Was it you? Did you order the hit on Luke?”

He walked around her, biting off another piece, chewing like he didn’t have a care in the world. “I didn’t realize you
loved
him,” he sneered.

She grabbed his arm, making him turn to face her. “We had an agreement! Goddamn you, we had a fucking agreement!”

“You’re the one who wanted him involved.”

“I couldn’t meet with them, you know that!”

“Meet with who?” I asked.

They both looked at me as if they were surprised I still stood there.

“The Pagani family. Paul Jr., the old man’s son and wannabe successor,” Dominic filled in, stuffing the last of his sandwich into his mouth. “Fucking asshole.”

“Old school. They won’t deal with a woman,” Isabella said.

“Deal with a woman over what?”

“What I told you when I first came to Salvatore’s house.”

“What, starting another war? Reclaiming our place as what, the biggest and baddest? The family who sheds the most blood? Izzy, what are you doing? I don’t want this. You can’t want it.”

“I did, at first.” She dropped into a chair. “But now, after what happened? After I saw him like that, Luke hooked up to too many machines to count, barely alive? Jesus, how could we…”

She stopped and turned toward Dominic, then stood and went to him. She poked a finger into his chest.

“Did you order the fucking shooting? Did you order them to kill Luke?”

“You’re starting to bore me. What happened to my vengeful little bitch?”

“Fuck you, Dominic.”

“Fuck you, Isabella.” He took her glass and finished it before slamming it down on the coffee table. “You may be over it, but I’m not. No way I’m standing by and letting my father hand everything over to my half-wit brother. No. Fucking. Way.”

The door flew open right then, and Salvatore burst in, his face a mask of fury as he slammed Dominic against the closest wall, his forearm crushing his neck. “How the fuck did you get in here?”

Dominic shoved him back and chuckled. “Check inside the house before you plant guards outside it, dumbass.”

“Mommy?”

Effie’s voice had all of us turning toward the stairs. The fighting had woken her up. She stood there, clutching her teddy bear and watching us.

“Honey!” Isabella ran up to her and took her in her arms. “Uncle Luke is going to be okay, baby!”

“He is?”

“He is.”

“I’m so glad. Can we go see him?”

“He’s still sleeping, but soon. I’ll take you to him, and you can give him all those cookies you made.”

“They’re delicious, Effie,” Dominic yelled up.

Salvatore’s stood there, hands fisted, at Dominic’s side.

“Thanks, Dominic.”

Effie’s relaxed familiarity with Dominic surprised me and, when I glanced at Salvatore, I saw that it surprised him as well.

“It’s late,” Isabella said over her shoulder. “Go home.” She turned and walked up the stairs with Effie.

“Why was everyone yelling?” I heard Effie asking her mom as their voices disappeared down the hall. I didn’t hear my sister’s answer.

“Well, she always was good at dismissing anyone she had no use for,” Dominic bit out.

“Fuck you. Dad’s looking for you. Go home.”

“You go home. And take your pretty little plaything with you before I decide to have a taste myself. Her sister was pretty good.”

Salvatore reared up to punch him, but I grabbed his arm. “He’s not worth it, Salvatore.”

“Get out.” Salvatore didn’t look at me, but stood nose to nose with his brother.

“I wasn’t planning on staying.”

It was a moment before he walked out the front door.

Salvatore turned to me and took me into his arms.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

“I’m fine. He didn’t do anything to me.”

“He was right. I should have checked the house.”

Salvatore stepped back and looked me over as if he wanted to see with his own eyes that Dominic hadn’t hurt me.

“Stop. Nothing happened. And everything is out in the open now.”

His eyes searched mine, and I touched his face with my hand.

“Take me home, Salvatore.”