I pull out my phone and dial Gianna’s number. It rings a couple of times before she finally answers, sounding groggier than when I called the first time. “Did you fall asleep again? I told you I’d be here soon.”
She yawns. “Yeah, but since you operate on Diego Standard Time, nobody really believes it when you say you’ll be somewhere at a certain time.”
“Oh, so that’s a thing?” The elevator dings, and I move Ava to my other arm. I look into the mirror in front of me just in time to see a woman walk out into the lobby. Her head is dipped low, her long, dark hair covering her face. Dressed head to toe in black running gear, topped off with a black baseball cap, it looks like she’s about to take on the streets of Palermo.
It’s only when she pulls back her hair that I catch a profile that makes me do a double-take.
Thick eyelashes, high cheekbones, full pink lips.
I narrow my eyes, peering at her reflection in the mirror. Same height, same luscious curves. But, no. It’s impossible.
Or is it?
“Diego!”
I jump at my sister’s sharp tone. “Yeah?”
“Are you even listening to me?”
“Oh, uh, sure. You said you wanted to repay me for babysitting by taking me out to dinner at the most exclusive place in the city. I heard you loud and clear, Gi. And I’ll be ready at eight.”
Gianna snorts. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that? I asked you to bring up the pack of diapers I had delivered to the front desk. I’m all out, and I’m sure Cupcake is going to need a change.”
“Yeah, especially if you keep shoving all that milk down her throat. But I don’t understand why you didn’t just have them delivered in the first place.” I look behind me to see if the woman was still in earshot, but she’s gone.
Disappeared.
Off the grid.
Dammit.
“I was focused on other things when we got back here last night,” she says in a teasing voice.
“Okay, stop right there. I don’t want to hear another word about what you were focused on. Got it?”
“Got it. And thanks.”
“Just make sure you’re decent by the time I get upstairs.” I click off the phone and sigh as we walk over to the front desk to grab the diapers.
I glance around the empty lobby one more time, but there is no sign of the woman.
What the hell are the odds that it would be Serena Vitale, anyway?
In that getup, at this insane hour, here in Palermo?
Never.
She’s gone.
Chapter Six
Serena
I cower in a corner of the hotel’s front entrance, my eyes darting left and right. I take a few deep breaths, clutching a hand to my chest.
Fear is now a constant in my life, and it has been ever since…
I swallow hard, the hairs on the back of my neck prickling. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to bury the chilling memories, the looming threat of what could have been if that elusive someone hadn’t stepped in and blown apart the sordid sex trafficking ring that claimed me a year ago.
I was lucky to escape a fate worse than death.
And the experience helped me find the life’s purpose I’d been seeking, to help save innocent women before they can be sold into the sex trade.
On cue, horrific images from the gala attack on my family wallpaper my mind as I walk down the street. Bile rises in my throat, my heart thumping fast and furious.
I found my purpose, yes. But the trade-off was my mother’s life.
And since then, it’s been my own life hanging in the balance.
Will I ever be able to walk outside alone again without wondering if a car is going to jump out of the shadows and steamroll me? Will I ever be free enough to show my face in public without worrying that someone will launch an assault of bullets in my direction?
Will life ever be normal for me again?
Or am I destined to be a target for hate for the rest of my life, however long that may be?
Early morning sunlight streams through the cracks between buildings lining the street. It’s quiet and peaceful right now, but in a few hours?
The place will be crawling with tourists and business people, all on their way to their own destination.
All without the fear that today might be their final chapter.
It’s a fear I’ve lived with for the past year.
It’s funny. Being the only daughter of Franco Vitale, you’d think I would have been a little more apprehensive about my work and my social life over the years. More aware of the enemies that lurked in the darkness, ready to strike and to avenge the torture inflicted at the hand of my father. More observant about my actions, less oblivious to safety concerns. But somehow, I felt like I was…I don’t know…invincible, maybe? That nothing could or would touch me, leaving me free to touch the lives of others because I wanted to turn my back on the life my father lived and counteract his evil with good.
But I was wrong.
Stupid.
Naïve.
And completely and utterly ignorant to reality.
For my entire life, I adored my father. I ignored the ways in which he made his living because I knew they didn’t define who he truly was as a person. I turned a blind eye to all of it, and he protected me with every fiber of his being.
Until he could no longer fight the evil.
My shoulders sag as I pull down the bill of the baseball cap and continue along my path. I don’t know what today will hold for me, being in a different city, registered under a fake name, wearing these ridiculous but all too necessary disguises to hide my identity from the people on a constant quest to find me.
Because I don’t want to be found.
I had finally found a purpose by saving other women from the terrors I’d evaded.
I had created a life for myself and given hope to those who needed it most.
I had everything.
And now, I have nothing.
I let out a deep sigh.
Including caffeine.
There is a purpose to me still being here. I just need someone to let me in on the secret.
But in the meantime, I’d like to be awake enough for it to register so I can make a plan for how the hell I’m supposed to live out the rest of my life.
I fold my arms over my chest and walk around the corner to where an assortment of cafés and bistros line both sides of the street. I jump over cracks in the sidewalk and sidestep the metal grates. I’ve always been superstitious, and right now, I don’t need any more bad luck hanging over me like a dark cloud.
I pull open the door to one storefront, not even paying attention to the name hanging over the door. A bell above my head jingles and I recoil as I eye the line of people crowded against the display cases of pastries, breads, cakes. I know it’s a weekday, but really? It’s before seven in the morning! Don’t people in Palermo sleep in? Isn’t that a thing everywhere in Europe?
I let out a sigh and slink to the back of the line. The scents of butter, sugar, and coffee waft under my nose and my stomach grumbles as I slowly move past the tempting breakfast options.
Too bad I lost my appetite months ago.
Being the victim of a mass shooting and watching your mother bleed to death will do that to you.
I drag my finger along the glass case as the line moves toward the cash register at a glacial pace.
“Mi amore, look at these pastries! That zabaglione! I need it!”
I giggle at my mother as she points her finger in the direction of about six types of sweet treats. She claps her hands like a little kid on Christmas morning as the girl behind the counter piles them onto a tray. Then she turns to me, her eyes bright as the sun.
“Are you getting anything?”
I roll my eyes. “Uh, no. I have a dress to squeeze into tonight, remember?”
Mama winks at me. “So do I. And right now, I don’t care if I can’t breathe in it!”
“Yo
u have such a sweet tooth!”
She shrugs and flashes a wide smile at the girl before taking the tray. “I won’t eat for the next week!”
The thing is, she’s full of crap. She will eat. She always eats because she’s got a slate of amazing genes that keep her body looking like that of a supermodel.
I, unfortunately for me, got the genes from Papa’s side of the family. Big thighs, wide hips, huge boobs.
Classic curves.
And so if I even look at her tray, my stomach will bloat. No joke.
I grip my espresso cup and let out a sigh. That’s my little treat, at least if I want to make sure that my dress doesn’t split at the seams when I walk onto the stage to give my speech.
I don’t have her figure or her metabolism, but I guess nobody has it all.
“Would you like something?” A kind female voice jolts me from one of the many memories that makes tears spring to my eyes.
I shake my head. “No,” I whisper, swallowing past the lump in my throat. A heaviness settles deep in my belly, replacing the empty feeling.
Nobody has it all.
It’s true.
Mama no longer has her life.
And I no longer have my Mama.
Chapter Seven
Diego
I pull the door of the hotel room closed behind me, a smile curling my lips upward. I couldn’t just cut and run after dropping off Ava. Not that she’d ever let me, anyway. If I thought my living room looked like the inside of a toy store, the hotel room looks like the goddamn toy factory, and Ava showed me all of her favorites. I even played some of that annoying music on my phone for her, courtesy of YouTube, just to make sure Alek was wide-awake too. Shit, if I have to be up, so do both of her parents, especially after the two gargantuan surprises that sweet, beautiful girl awarded me with this morning before the sun came up.
My phone rings as I walk toward the elevator. I roll my eyes when I see Vince’s name flash on the screen. He knew I’d never make it to his meeting on time. I stab the Accept button and his exasperated voice comes over the phone lines loud and clear without waiting for me to even say hello.
“Diego, where the hell are you? I told you I wanted to talk to you before the meeting starts. And you’d better look decent. This is really important. No fucking sneakers, got it?”
I look down at the black shoes I managed to slip on in my sleep-induced fog before leaving my house this morning. He’ll be happy to see them. I’ll be happy that he doesn’t bust my balls about appearances, since I’m sure he’ll be busting them about something else soon enough.
Actually, if I were thinking clearly, I’d have slapped on a pair of sneakers just to piss him off. Vince is the boss, not me. And now that I don’t have to pose as a wealthy hotelier in Monaco anymore, I like to be comfortable.
Especially if I need to stay a few steps ahead of everyone lurking in the shadows. The Nikes come in handy, but my brother isn’t convinced. Maybe it’s because he’s been in this position for three years and so far, nobody has taken a single shot at him.
Me, on the other hand?
I almost landed my ass in a very watery grave in Monaco once my brother Cristian and I finally figured out who was trying to destroy our family. Seems like trouble always knows where to find me.
So I’ll keep the Nikes, thank you very fucking much.
“I’m on my way,” I lie, pressing the Down button at the elevator bank.
“You’re full of shit,” Vince grumbles. “I know you’re still at the hotel.”
“Do you have surveillance on me or something?” I chuckle and lean against the wall.
“This is really important, Diego. Stop dicking around and get over here.”
I shake my head. This is real Big Brother shit. “I told you I’m on my way.”
“Don’t make any pit stops, either.”
“Never,” I say, stepping off the elevator when it lands in the lobby. I’m already plotting a route past Café Stagnitta. Caffeine is a necessity right now, especially after my abrupt wake-up call. “But maybe if you told me the big secret, it might make me move a little faster.”
“It’s better that I tell you in person.”
“Why?” I ask, waving at the valet and jumping back into the rental SUV. I hope Gianna and Alek are planning to lay low today since I’m taking their baby mobile to this top secret meeting. Sometimes I think Vince just likes to have one leg up on everyone else. Makes him feel like more of a boss, keeping people on a need-to-know basis and all that. He likes to be the only one who knows all.
But even he doesn’t have all of the answers.
“Stop asking questions and drive your damn car! The sooner you get here, the sooner you’ll find out what all the secrecy is about. I’ll see you soon,” he says and clicks to end the call.
I turn on the ignition and pull out of the hotel driveway in the direction of the café. My gut twists for a reason other than the fact that I’m not only caffeine-deprived but starving to boot.
I have a feeling about this meeting. A bad one.
Vince hasn’t given me any information for one of two reasons. One…he doesn’t have it to give, which is always dangerous, and I hate going blind into this type of meeting where someone needs us for something but we don’t get details until the eleventh hour. Or two…he has the information and isn’t sure how to process it because it puts a whole shit ton of things at risk. That’s even more dangerous.
Either way, we’re screwed.
It’s taken almost three years to build back up what was almost decimated after the death of my father. We divided and conquered, each one of us commanding a piece of the family empire to grow and expand our influence throughout Europe. Cristian and his brother-in-law Alek took over our billion-dollar shipping business after we rescued it from the bastards who put the hit on Papa. A lot of people died in their attempts to sink their dirty claws into it, but we managed to keep what was ours.
At least, for the time being.
But that question still hangs in the air between all of us. My father had plenty of enemies who would love nothing more than to crush his legacy and claim his empire, piece by piece.
That ‘empire’ includes my brothers and sister.
Ant and Tommy were put in charge of the specialty foods company, all ‘imports and exports’ needed to keep the business thriving, and of course, the nightclub and bar scene.
Then, there was me. I’d always been more of a floater in my family. I’d be the one to intercede if there were issues with other families over territories. I was the enforcer. My job was to make sure that there were no live threats to our interests. I wasn’t supposed to create problems for the family, my job was to settle them.
But as time went on, I took on a different kind of role, one that supported our money-making efforts during a time when we didn’t know if our family would survive after Papa died. One that instilled fear in the people who were tempted to cross us. One that showed the underworld that the Marcone family would always terminate any threats to our livelihood.
Vince put me in charge of a bunch of our smaller-scale businesses to keep me occupied. He didn’t suspect for a second that I was going to go behind his back to launch a full-scale manhunt on the groups who betrayed us and nearly broke us after he warned me not to. Those bullshit jobs were supposed to keep me busy until I was able to let the fury run its course.
But I couldn’t focus.
The anger feasted on my rational thought, driving me to do things.
Murderous things. Savage things.
Heinous things that fed the rage instead of calming it.
I’d always been level-headed. Reasonable. Logical.
Papa never had to worry about me flying off the handle. He saved that oversight for Cristian, my loose cannon of a brother who ended up getting shot at more often than not because he acted on emotion rather than facts.
Tommy and Ant have always been on the barbaric side. There’s never any reasoning with them
. They act with brute force, and for the record, I don’t think either one of them can actually spell the word rational.
Vince, on the other hand, is cold and calculating. He’s the most like Papa. He keeps a lot to himself because he doesn’t trust easily. Well, maybe not at all is more accurate. He always sees the bigger picture and knows how to execute a plan so the family interests prevail. Vince knows all of the angles, and works them to his advantage.
My brothers and I are the angles.
But even he couldn’t have predicted my plunge into the depths of hell after the fallout in Monaco. Everyone thought our work was finished. The bad guys were eliminated. The threat to our family was put to rest.
But for me, it was only the beginning.
Vince never lets me forget how close I’d come to destroying everything after I went on the blood-soaked rampage that ended with the murder of Salvatore Chiaza. He also never misses a chance to remind me about how I was to blame for Papa’s death in the first place.
It’s made things between us strained, to say the least.
Mainly because he doesn’t know what the hell to expect from me anymore.
And that’s damn unsettling, especially for me since I don’t even know myself.
For a long time, it felt like I was being controlled by the guilt and regret that haunted me. I could never get the redemption I wanted from Papa, so I did things that loosened the noose around my neck. Made it easier for me to breathe, see through the murk, and find a pinprick of light at the end of the dark, dank tunnel that had become my life.
And when I managed to make it to the end, I made a decision.
I was not going to allow myself to be driven by useless emotions any longer.
I would be the man Papa intended me to be, not his vicious alter-ego.
I would do good for my family, and not by means of blood.
That marked the beginning of Eventi-X.
Wanted: A Dark Italian Mafia Romance (Men Of Mayhem Book 1) Page 6