Thin Lines (Donati Bloodlines Book 2) (13 page)

“Affonso,
stop
! No, stop!
Please
!”

She slapped him once.

Hard.

It reverberated through the room.

Affonso stopped moving, his eyes glazed and wild as he
looked down at her.

Emma sucked in a ragged breath when he grabbed her jaw
with enough pressure to leave the marks of his fingerprints behind. He forced
her head back and stared at her, hatred brimming. As quick as his anger had
come, it faded into something different.

Something she didn’t understand.

“Cam,” he said quietly.

Emma swallowed the sickness down. “Emma, Affonso.”

He blinked again.

Finally, he let her go with a disgusted grunt. Rolling
over in the bed, she heard him mumble, “Fucking pointless with you. Dead babies
and heartache, girl.”

She wouldn’t be able to get pregnant at all, but she
didn’t tell Affonso that. Once the doctor confirmed that she was healed, she
had started birth control pills to prevent further pregnancies. There was a
slight risk the pills could fail, like any birth control, but it was better
than nothing.

“That’s all your good for,” Affonso added, still going
on.

Agony sliced through Emma’s nervous system. She curled
up on her side with her back facing Affonso, like she wanted to hide. She
didn’t realize until she could hear the soft snores from the other side of the
bed, but her body hurt all over. Between her thighs, a deep, stinging ache
settled where his fingers had pried her legs open.

She wondered if he left bruises on her face.

Emma, not knowing what else to think, thought about
how to hide them.

Quietly, she cried. Tears wet the pillow, but it did
nothing.

Nothing would help.

Had she deserved this? After what she did, was this
her punishment?

“Quiet,” she heard rumble from the other side of the
bed.

Emma shoved the side of her fist into her mouth to
muffle her sobs. The sickness making her vision swim wouldn’t go away.

She wanted Calisto.

He never would have done this to her.

She knew it.

“I apologized, Cam,” Affonso mumbled in his stupor.
“You know I did.”

What did that even mean?

“My head feels like someone took a sledgehammer to
it.”

Emma straightened on the seat, and glanced at the reflection
staring at her in the vanity. Affonso stood a few feet back, watching her with
his familiar cold gaze. He was in her space—her safe space. He never entered
the walk-in closet that was big enough to be a small room. It housed her
things, and it gave her time away from him.

Why was he in there?

“Maybe lay off the bourbon next time,” Emma managed to
say.

She went back to her work at the mirror, covering the
bruises of her husband’s fingerprints under her jaw with a green tinted
concealer that would neutralize the redness. There was nothing she could do
about the fingerprints on the insides of her thighs except to make sure her
dresses were long enough that they wouldn’t ride up to expose the marks.

Affonso watched her work in silence.

By the time she was reaching for the rows of
lipsticks, Affonso had moved to stand directly behind her. She made a grab for
the pink tube, the one Affonso liked, and switched to the fire-engine red that
she preferred.

Affonso sighed behind her.

Emma didn’t pay him any mind as she went to work on
the task of painting her lips with carefully done strokes.

“Do you want something?” Emma finally asked when she
put the tube back.

“I’d like for you to wash that red off before we go to
church.”

“I think you can manage to look at it for one day.”

Affonso’s gaze narrowed. “I can force you to take it
off.”

“Seems you can force a lot of things when you want
to.”

Emma wished she could take the words back the very
second they left her mouth, but they were out there. She watched her husband’s
face turn from a mask of apathy to anger in a blink. Then, he was back to stone
again.

Blank like paper.

“I wouldn’t quite call it forcing anything when it’s
my wife,” Affonso noted.

“The law believes differently.”

Affonso barked out a short laugh. “Sweetheart, in my
world, I am the law.”

She knew that, too.

He was the judge, jury, and executioner of his family.

Of her.

No one else got a say.

Emma pushed back the simmering anxiety. “If you want
to hold a woman down and fuck her like an animal, you have whores for that,
Affonso. Don’t use me for the same thing.”

“You’re angry.”

“Did you think I’d be happy about what happened?”

“It didn’t happen at all,” Affonso said. “I was not so
drunk that I don’t remember the bulk of it, Emma.”

“Almost is close enough.”

Too close.

Affonso clenched his jaw tight, his gaze hardening.
“What do you want from me?”

“I want you to leave me alone. I can’t give you want
you want. You’ve made that perfectly clear to me. Just leave me alone. I’ll do
whatever else you want; I’ll go out when you tell me to, and pretend like I
give a fuck about all of this. But leave me alone, Affonso.”

He crossed his arms, regarding her in that way of his
that said he was weighing his options. She hated the fact that that was all she
was to him. Just an option.

An afterthought.

Had he been a different man, this might have been
different.

Their marriage could have been different.

Something …

Instead, they were who they were.

And Emma hated him.

“You’ve left me with nothing,” Affonso told her. “I
had nothing before you,
donna
.”

She hated how he called her woman with such venom spewing
with his Italian language. Like being a woman was unworthy and not good enough.

“Is this about children again?” she asked.

“That’s all this ever was.”

“You have children.”

“I wanted—”

“I know what you wanted,” she interrupted angrily.
“And I can’t help that my body doesn’t work the way you want it to, Affonso.
You’re not God. I’m not God. I can’t make my body do what it can’t do, okay.”

“I’m aware.” Affonso leaned against the wall, never
taking his eyes off her. “As I was saying, before you I had nothing. Two
daughters to marry off and make my
famiglia
stronger. Bastards that are
useless.”

“No boys,” Emma finished for him. “I already know
this.”

“Well, not one that will do what I want for him to do,
anyway.”

Emma stilled, watching Affonso’s reflection in the
mirror.

She couldn’t help but remember his words from the
night before. When he looked down at her and called her another woman’s
name—Calisto’s mother. How Affonso claimed he had apologized. She remembered
Ray asking Affonso where Calisto had gotten his attitude and behavior from.
From
his father, of course.

Emma felt stupid.

All the pieces that had been scattered about in
passing conversations, missed looks, vague statements, and the bad blood all
around. The focal point of her memories drove straight back to the day after a
night she wished would erase from her memories. After she had lost her second
child.

“Calisto.”

“Don’t touch me, zio.”

“Tu sei il primo.”

“Mai.”

You’re the first
, Affonso had told
Calisto outside of her hospital room. His first boy, he meant.

Never
.

Calisto hadn’t denied it, he simply refused it.

Never.

Had Calisto been the result of an affair between
Camilla Donati and Affonso, or something worse?

“When were you going to tell me?” Emma asked.

Affonso cocked a brow. “Tell me what?”

“That you have a son, but he hates you so much. Why
does he hate you, Affonso?”

He pushed off the wall, glancing away. “Hurry up.”

“Won’t you answer me?”

“I have no son.”

He was lying. He wouldn’t look at her.

“Calisto is—”

“Do not even think about the words you want to say,”
Affonso hissed, turning back on Emma with a glare that silenced her.

Panic welled in her throat, thumping right along with
the beats of her heart.

What was he hiding?

“Okay,” Emma whispered.

“You did a good job at covering those bruises. Learn
to keep your thoughts to yourself, or you’ll find yourself covering more. I
hope I’ve made myself clear.”

Jesus.

“Yes, Affonso.”

He looked her over once more. “I’ll give you what you
want.”

To leave her alone …

“Will you?” she asked.

Affonso shrugged. “You can’t give me what I want,
after all. What would be the point?”

Emma didn’t bother to respond.

He was right.

Before Emma knew it, Thanksgiving rolled around.
Thankfully, there wasn’t any snow on the ground, but it was only a matter of
time. They were calling for a cold, windy, and snowy Winter in New York.

She missed the dryness of Nevada.

Somehow, Emma had managed to do what Affonso wanted
for his Thanksgiving dinner and party. The invitations went out on time. The
decorations gave the Donati home a more festive appearance. Music was provided.
Catering showed up on time.

Emma put her mask on and stood at her husband’s side.

But she was jealous.

It was eating her alive.

Why?

The reason was across the room in a shimmering silver
number that hugged every young curve she sported. Her legs looked to be a mile
long in the matching silver pumps. She had brown hair—highlighted with red
tones—that fell down her back. Her dark eyes surveyed the room, passing over
the people without a second thought.

She was beautiful.

Probably younger than Emma.

Calisto had brought a date.

Calisto

“You’re doing great,” Calisto said in the ear of his
companion.

Kelsey twisted the silver bangles on her wrist,
refusing to look Calisto in the eye. “You think so?”

“I know so.”

“I don’t fit in here, Cal. I don’t fit in with these
people.”

“None of us do,” he muttered. “We’re all just playing
make believe.”

Kelsey smiled before a tiny giggle escaped. At
nineteen, almost twenty, she was a force to be reckoned with. Calisto had made
sure of that as soon as he knew she existed. Her mother had been a dirt-poor
waitress that came from a shitty neighborhood.

The girl would have gone nowhere.

Her father hadn’t given her a second thought.

So, Calisto stepped up. He made sure she got an
education, and then furthered it. He got her out of that crappy neighborhood
and put her somewhere where she could excel. She deserved more than being
someone’s forgotten thing.

Kelsey was Affonso’s oldest daughter. Another child
the man had created with a woman he used for a time and then discarded.

Calisto couldn’t forget about Affonso’s children like
the man did. They weren’t things to be made and then tossed away like forgotten
toys. He knew that had any of them been boys, they would have been given a much
better life.

But they were girls.

Worthless to a man who favored what he could
use
.

“Are you feeling up to introductions?” Calisto asked.

Kelsey shrugged. “I guess.”

“You’ll do fine. Smile.”

“He doesn’t even know me, Cal.”

“You wanted to know who he is,” Calisto replied
quietly. “This was a good time, huh?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Then let’s go.”

Kelsey didn’t argue as Calisto led her across the
large room. People stared, watching them together and probably whispering. None
of them knew who Kelsey was, and even Affonso probably wouldn’t recognize the
girl. She had been three the last time he saw his oldest daughter, as far as
Calisto understood it.

The people of the Donati
famiglia
likely
thought she was Calisto’s date. He hadn’t corrected anyone when they asked. He
just didn’t answer them. He brought Kelsey along to the dinner and party for
her own benefit, and nothing more. She wanted to see her father—she wanted to
know who he was, beyond the headlines and the rumors.

Calisto’s words weren’t enough.

He understood her curiosity.

Sometimes, a person couldn’t be warned.

“
Zio
,” Calisto greeted politely, coming up
behind Affonso.

Affonso turned around fast, bringing Emma with him.
His gaze landed on the young woman at Calisto’s side, and Kelsey’s hand wrapped
around his arm.

“Cal,” Affonso greeted, never taking his eyes off the
young woman. “Who did you bring tonight? I didn’t know you were seeing
someone.”

Calisto passed Emma a look. She was a mask of cool,
calm composure, but something bright was burning in her eyes. It stung when she
turned it on him. It felt as hot as the red of her dress.

She was pissed.

So angry.

Calisto didn’t have the time to pick it apart. “This
is … a friend,
zio
.”

Affonso laughed. “A friend with no name?”

Kelsey’s hand tightened on Calisto’s arm, but she
stayed quiet.

“Kelsey,” Calisto said. “Her name is Kelsey.”

Calisto wasn’t even surprised to see Affonso’s lack of
reaction. He didn’t recognize the name, or some of his own features staring
back at him from Kelsey’s face. She had her mother’s eyes, but the sharp
cheekbones of her father, and a smaller nose.

“She wanted to meet you,” Calisto said. “I thought
tonight would be a good time.”

Affonso smiled at his daughter, still unknowing. “Why
was that?”

“Just because.”

Because if Affonso figured out who the girl was, he
was less likely to cause a fuss in front of all his people. He wouldn’t make issues
or shame Kelsey like he had done to his other daughters and their mothers when
they tried to be near him.

Kelsey tugged on Calisto’s jacket and said, “Cal?”

“Mmm?”

“I’m good.”

Calisto gave his confused uncle a smile. “I’ll be
around if you need me,
zio
.”

Affonso waved a hand high. “Sure.”

Emma’s gaze still burned, but she had yet to say a
word.

Turning their backs to Affonso and Emma, Calisto
bought Kelsey closer to his side.

“And?” he asked.

“You were right.”

Calisto sighed. “Yeah, I usually am.”

“It wasn’t worth it.”

“At least you know now. It took me years to figure it
out, and by then, I was already trapped.”

Kelsey didn’t ask what Calisto meant.

He was grateful.

“You’re irritated tonight,” Calisto heard a familiar
voice say from up the stairwell.

Ray
.

“My wife,” came the reply.

Affonso
.

Confused, Calisto quietly and carefully rounded the
stairs. During events at the Donati home, the guests weren’t permitted to
explore. Certain people would be overlooked if Affonso offered them a drink in
private, but the Donati Don rarely left his guests unattended.

It wasn’t like Affonso to leave the party.

After sending Kelsey back to her apartment with a
driver, Calisto had wandered around the party and milled with some of the
guests. He’d fielded questions about the mysterious girl he brought along as
his date with a charming smile and nothing more.

He didn’t want people to know who Kelsey was. That was
by her choice.

She didn’t need to be a part of their world. She was
an innocent bystander.

Nothing more.

“Isn’t it always the woman?” Ray asked.

Affonso chuckled dryly. “I think so, with their
demands and needs. Drives me insane.”

Calisto stopped halfway up the stairs. He’d tried to
keep an eye on Emma all night, just to make sure she was okay. The woman could
wear a mask like nobody knew, but he could see right through it. She played her
part well, but underneath her false smile was her unhappiness.

He’d been too busy over the last couple of weeks to
visit.

It bothered him that Affonso was complaining about
Emma, for whatever reason he had complaints.

What had happened?

“She’s as cold as ice, I swear,” Affonso growled. “I
can’t get more than two words out of her without her barking at me. Give me
your drink, would you?”

“Yeah, here,” Ray replied. “Is this about your wife,
or something else?”

“You’re going to have to be more specific, Ray.”

“You’re more irritated than normal lately. I couldn’t
help but notice Calisto shows up with a woman at his side, and you get even
more ruffled at the collar.”

“Was she Italian, I wonder?”

“Could have been,” Ray said.

“She needs to be Italian for him.”

Calisto ignored the swell of annoyance flooding his
veins. The only reason Affonso would want him with an Italian was for heritage
sake. Cosa Nostra would not accept boys into the fold who were not half Italian
from their father’s side.

But it didn’t make a difference.

Calisto didn’t want his children in this life. He had
no plans to continue furthering his own career beyond what it was in
la
famiglia
. He didn’t need the heir his uncle wanted.

 “I want information on that girl,” Affonso said,
bringing Calisto out of his thoughts. “Find out who she is and where she comes
from.”

You’ll be terribly surprised
, Calisto thought
wirily.

“You know,” Ray started to say, “You could always
force Calisto’s hand into the boss’s seat, Affonso.”

Calisto turned into a statue on the stairs, hard in
his heart and heavy in his limbs.

“I could,” Affonso echoed.

“No one in
la famiglia
would turn him down as a
boss. Once given it, he wouldn’t have a choice.”

“We rarely take it because we want it. It’s almost
always given to us or forced on us. It wouldn’t be any different, I suppose.”

“He couldn’t refuse,” Ray added. “Not if he wanted to
live. You’ve done this the nice way with him. Play a little dirty with him,
instead, and see where it gets you.”

Calisto’s fingernails bit into his palms when he
squeezed his fists into tight balls.

“I don’t really have a choice,” Affonso murmured.
“He’s the only boy I have—I made him, he’s mine regardless of what he believes.
I molded him for this, Ray. He was always meant for this, I made sure of it. He
won’t do it willingly, I tried.”

No, Affonso lied.

Over and over.

For years.

Affonso had pretended to be someone he wasn’t to
Calisto. He’d hid secrets for years, and forced the one person who meant the
most to Calisto into a corner, taking from her what wasn’t his to have.

Calisto despised this man.

His biological
father
—it made Calisto sick.

“He doesn’t have to do it willingly, Affonso,” Ray
said. “Consider it.”

“I am. Emma was my last shot at getting another boy. I
have no other options.”

Calisto turned on his heel and took the stairs two at
a time.

Affonso wouldn’t push Calisto into taking the boss’s
seat. There was nothing the man could do that would make him give up his hatred
enough to give Affonso what he wanted. Not after everything Affonso had done to
Calisto and his mother.

He would never call Affonso his father.

He would not be Affonso’s heir.

His blood didn’t matter.

It never had.