by Lux Miller
The car crawls to a stop at the front steps that rise into a wraparound verandah that is the stuff of legend. This is the kind of house that writers pompously pimp as gorgeous backdrops to wild romance stories that could never happen in the real world. Yet, here sits this gem of a mansion in the middle of downtown New Orleans.
Okay, that’s not completely accurate. It’s not located in the gritty downtown glory of the city of Voodoo. It’s tucked away on the outskirts of Uptown New Orleans in the glitzy Garden District, and it’s a hell of a home.
My silent appreciation of the statuesque scene is sullied by Dante as he bumps my arm. “Emily…”
Blinking the wonder out of my eyes, I turn to glance over my shoulder. His face is drawn with none of the normal humor dancing in his eyes, and it instantly sets me on edge. Turning my entire body to face him, I gently grab his hand. “Dante…?”
His squeezes my hand with his and then glances up at Mike in the front seat. “I know you know what I’ve been ordered to do. I won’t tell you not to call Luca, because I know he has you under orders that the minute I fuck up, to alert him so he can swoop in and try to save me. So call if you must, but you know as well as I do that this is something I have to do. So, give me a five minute head start at least?”
Mike blows out an unsteady breath in the front seat. His eyes flick to the rearview mirror, and I can see a whirlwind of emotions flitting across his face - sadness, worry, anger… they cycle so quickly that no emotion clouds his features for more than mere seconds. After what feels like an eternity passes, Mike bows his head once. “Five minutes. That’s all I can give you… and only because I know it’s orders…”
Dante lets go of my hand and pulls up his shirt in the front. He reaches into the storage compartment that’s on the back of the seat in front of him, and he pulls out a handgun. He looks it over and pops open the cylinder, loading bullets into one by one from a box that was stored with the gun. He nods and pops the cylinder back in, then clicks on the safety and pushes the gun into the waistband of his pants.
He opens his door and swings his legs out, then peers back at me over his shoulder. “Can I trust you?”
Feeling like the weight of the world was loaded into that question, I nod nervously. Dante returns my nod and motions towards the mansion with his head. “Then come with me.”
Mike makes another indignant noise, and if I didn’t think he was disguising his attempt to say something, I’d think he had a frog in his throat. Dante sighs, “Mike, if she’s going to be a mafia girlfriend and maybe a mafia wife, she deserves to know the truth… the whole truth, not some watered down safe version. She needs to know how the man she supposedly loves gained his power.”
Mike’s eyes meet mine briefly in the rearview mirror, and all I can see there now is sadness. He doesn’t say anything though and breaks our gaze soon enough to stare straight ahead.
Dante nods. “I knew you’d see things my way. Come on, Emily. It’s time I introduce you to La Cosa Nostra - this thing of ours.”
Swallowing, I scoot across the bench seat and step out of the car behind Dante. I know I probably look a fright, as I wasn’t planning on going anywhere outside of a hospital waiting room.
Gravel crunches as Dante’s heavy footsteps fall one after another on the driveway. He walks up the dozen steps that lead to the wooden wrap-around porch, and I follow behind meekly because honestly, right now I have no idea what’s going on or what I’m about to encounter.
The two burly men guarding the front door barely flinch as Dante approaches. Indeed, the only acknowledgement they give is a curt nod of the head in Dante’s direction as he pushes through the front door. Feeling their gaze fall to me, I scramble to keep up with Dante, not wanting to be left at the mercy of men who make Bourbon Street bouncers look like middle-schoolers.
Dante chews on his bottom lip as we step inside a brightly lit atrium with hanging chandeliers. He seems nervous, but I know it’s not my place to ask. Pacing back and forth, Dante covers the length of the enormous front room twice before he turns to me. “Follow me…”
Not really having any other choice, I trudge along behind him as he makes a beeline for a closed door that also has a pair of guards posted outside. This time, both men step into his path, their grimaces menacing as they stare down at him. These men are intimidating, but I can’t help notice how much one of them looks like Mike, and it makes shiver.
“Paul… Marco… move…”
Dante’s voice is even, but there’s a menacing tone hovering just underneath the coolness.
Neither man moves as Dante blows out a breath. “I’m sure you’re not dense enough to disobey a direct order.”
The one Dante addressed as Paul says nothing, eyeing the pair of us with a look on his face that says he’s not going to take any bullshit out of anybody. The other one sneers at Dante, “Look, baby boy Barresi wants to start acting badass…”
Paul clears his throat and lands a well-placed thwack across the one named Marco’s chest. Marco growls under his breath, but Paul shakes his head. He’s obviously the one in charge, and anyone with eyes can see that it eats Marco’s ass.
Paul clears his throat, “Look son, neither you nor I want an incident, so…”
Dante’s voice drops dangerously low and the tone in his voice is so sharp, he could cut steel right now if he tried. “You and I both know my father will have you drawn and quartered in the square if you cause me to disobey a direct order. He forgave my brother for…” Dante clears his throat, then leans closer to the greying man, “...interfering, but he will not be so lenient with you. I suggest you let me in…”
Paul is visibly uncomfortable as he fidgets in place, then he finally elbows Marco and jerks his head toward the side. “Let the boy pass.”
Marco narrows his eyes at me and scowls. “And the girl? Isn’t this the one Luca is test-driving? I sure can’t wait until he’s done with her and I can have a go… she’s a pretty little thing.”
Dante growls and barks at Marco, “Back the fuck off the girl. You will not touch her. She’s with me.”
Marco’s face looks thunderous as he gives Dante a curt nod and steps aside, “Yes… sir…” He grinds out the words like they’re poison as his murderous gaze remains locked on me. Dante ushers me past the two towering guards. Once we’re inside the room, he shuts the door behind himself and locks it from the inside, then turns to a large mahogany desk that sit across the room.
Behind the massive piece of furniture sits the intimidating man I now know to be Dante and Luca’s father. He has a stack of papers in front of him, but he doesn’t bother to look up when we enter the room. Dante takes a deep, unsteady breath, then bends his head to each side. I can hear a subtle popping of bones, and Dante exhales with relief. He takes three steps across the room before Matteo looks up at him. Dante’s voice is distant and somewhat cold as he acknowledges him, “Father…”
Matteo sits up straight in the high-backed leather chair in which he’s perched. He reaches up and pulls off a pair of reading glasses as he folds a newspaper and sets it across the scattered paperwork that covers the surface of the desk. His stare is fixed on Dante with acute precision as Dante slowly approaches the desk. “Dante… my son. I see you’ve received your orders.”
Dante nods. “I have, Father…”
The air whooshes out of the room as Dante reaches into his waistband and produces the handgun I just saw him stash there in the car. “Assassin’s bullets… just like you ordered…”
Matteo nods, his eyes fixed on ME as he speaks. “And the silencer?”
I hear a couple of metallic clinks and soft grunt, followed by Dante’s voice again. “Done…”
Matteo steeples his fingers as he rests his elbows on the desk. “I spoke to your mother just minutes ago about your assignment. Needless to say, she’s upset. She will understand in time why it’s necessary.”
My eyes flit to Dante. He nods, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down in his throat
as he keeps his eyes glued to his father. “Father? That’s where my agreement with you ends… she will never understand…”
I feel my blood run cold as Dante cocks the hammer on the gun and disengages the safety. “Momma’s a forgiving woman, but even she won’t forgive me for this…”
Matteo’s eyes grow wide as Dante aims the gun in his direction, engaging a laser focus that sits square between Matteo’s eyes. Matteo flinches slightly as I gasp. Dante edges closer and closer to the desk, growling, “Put your hands where I can see them… Father…”
Both of my hands fly to my face as I realize what’s happening. My feet are frozen to the floor as Dante prowls ever closer to his father. He edges himself around the desk so that he’s standing over Matteo, the gun still perilously aimed at Matteo’s face.
I swear I almost see a cruel smirk begin to twist Matteo’s features. Dante shifts himself so that his back is to the door as he presses the gun against Matteo’s forehead. There’s a sadness to his voice as he begins to mutter words in Italian that I can’t understand. It almost sounds like a prayer, but I can’t be sure. As he finishes his mutterings, I can hear Matteo’s voice softly in sync with his as both men perform the sign of the cross.
I hear the tumblers on the door disengage and Dante tenses. He presses the gun harder against his father’s head, dragging it to one side where it indents against the softer tissue of Matteo’s temple. Dante grimaces as he slides his trigger finger onto the trigger, his eyes flashing to the door as Luca steps inside and quickly locks it behind him.
Luca looks frenzied, his eyes wide as they flash back and forth, between me and the scene in front of us. He makes a garbled sound and takes several steps towards Dante. Dante growls and roars, “Stay where you are! I’m acting on orders…”
Luca growls, “Stand the fuck down, Dante! This is a big mistake… you can’t come back from this.”
Dante shakes his head. “I can’t do that, brother. Orders are an oath of intent, and I have accepted my orders.”
Luca sucks air in through his teeth, his face going pale. “From who? What traitor would demand this of you? Who do you answer to that would move your hand like this besides the devil himself?”
Dante winces as beads of sweat trickle down his face, and from my vantage point, I can see the terror and determination that are waging war in Dante’s eyes that stay transfixed on his father’s face.
Matteo closes his eyes and whispers loud enough to be heard, “Dante, please…”
Dante closes his eyes and pulls the trigger, a soft blast emanating from the front of the gun as a splatter of blood sprays across the desk from the other side of Matteo’s head. The proud man slumps in the chair as Dante drops the gun onto the desk, his entire body shaking.
Luca dives across the room, jumping over the desk and shoving Dante out of the way as he snatches his father’s form up harshly, shouting, “No!”
Dante stumbles back away from the desk, his back colliding with the wall as he looks on in horror. Despite Luca’s attempts to hold him upright as he checks for any signs of life, Matteo’s body hunches over the desk, his forehead coming to rest on the stack of papers he was perusing moments ago, a small pool of blood forming around his head.
Luca whirls around to face Dante, yanking his own gun out and pointing it at his brother. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t fucking shoot you right now…”
Dante swallows and raises his gaze to meet his brother’s, tears cutting streaks down his otherwise stoic face. My heart thunders in my chest as Dante crosses his right arm over his chest, his newly repaired wrist resting against his heart. He drops to one knee slowly as Luca’s breath hitches in his throat, his head whipping back and forth wildly as he mutters, “No.”
Dante and Luca lock gazes as Dante utters words that, even though I can’t understand, break my heart. “Attraverso la morte, mi alzerò. Il tuo comando è il mio dovere...”
Luca shakes his head wildly, “No, no, no… I can’t accept your oath. I am not—”
Dante nods, his piercing stare never leaving Luca’s face as he remains on his knee in a gesture of fealty. He switches his words to English, but the tone of finality in them would be understandable in any language. “You are now. I have made my bones… Boss.”
TEN
Losing my sparse lunch of lukewarm hospital food was not on my agenda for today. Of course, neither was bearing witness to a murder. Again. Yet, here I am… retching on the floor of the well-appointed office while Luca and Dante argue loudly in Italian.
Luca still has his personal gun pointed at Dante as Dante remains kneeling on the floor in a show of loyalty that has me believing Dante’s story from earlier in the hospital. Dante said he had to kill someone to join the mafia. But none of this makes sense… did Dante really just murder his father to fulfill some twisted mafia rite of passage?
Luca’s snarling voice pulls me out of my vomit-scented haze as I hear him growl at Dante, “Whose orders?” Dante looks up at Luca from the floor, sadness overwhelming his classically handsome features. Though all of this has happened in mere seconds, it feels like hours as I stand there woozily trying to keep my balance.
I don’t know if it’s the rush of hormones to my body that has me upchucking the contents of my stomach or what I just saw happen. It’s probably a combination of the two and the uneasiness that hovers in the air around us.
Keeping his eyes and gun focused on Dante, Luca approaches Matteo and lifts him into a sitting position. His hands shake slightly as he checks Matteo over. He averts his gaze for a few seconds and presses his fingers to the side of Matteo’s neck. His face falls almost instantly.
His voice is pained as he looks at Dante again, gritting his teeth as he demands answers. “He’s dead. Answer me, Dante… who ordered the hit?”
Dante stands, keeping his head bowed. With Matteo no longer slumped over the papers, he pulls one out and hands it to Luca. Luca reads it over, then makes a strangled noise. He shakes his head quickly, a look of disbelief on his face.
“Did you do this too?”
Dante shakes his head. “No, but father wanted everyone to think I did. The orders… they…” Luca slams the paper down on the desk, his gaze focused on the ashen face of the man who once struck fear into any living creature. Now, the emptiness of the hollow expression on his face just makes me feel heavy.
Luca glances at me then snaps his gaze back to Dante. “That doesn’t make sense! Why would he order a hit on himself?”
Dante sighs. “His secrets are not mine to tell, brother. But, he wanted to assure I made my bones, with or without your assistance. And since all you’ve offered on the journey so far is interference, he ordered me into a hit he knew you couldn’t stop…”
Luca stomps around the side of the desk, his back to Dante as he rubs the barrel of his gun along the side of his head. His emotions are splayed out raw on his face and if I could move my leaden legs, I’d try to offer him some sort of comfort, though I’m not sure what I could do to help.
“What makes you think he thought I wouldn’t try to stop this?”
Dante sighs, averting his gaze back to the floor. “Because he knows you never loved him. He knew you’d never shoot someone you love…”
Luca’s face twists in agony as Dante’s word crash over him like a tsunami. “I… that’s not… it’s just…”
Dante shakes his head. “You respected him. You feared him. You revered him. Sometimes you even liked him. But you didn’t love him. Not since you were a kid. In fact, I’d be willing to say you hated him with every fiber of your being, because he was never the father you needed.”
Luca’s face is frozen like a statue in a snarl. At this moment, he looks like a feral beast about to pounce on its lunch. But just under the surface of the agony is pain. Deep, raw pain that has cut deep. And a glimmer of truth, I realize with a gasp.
Dante knows it, Luca knows it… and even as an outsider, I know it. There was no love lost between Luca and h
is father, but Luca is fiercely protective of Dante for the exact opposite reason.
Luca gasps as panic washes over his face. “Shit… we’ve been in here too long, Paul and Marco will start to wonder what’s up. If they check the cameras… you’re toast for treason.”
Dante’s entire body is stiff, his movements jerky as he approaches his brother cautiously. “Put your gun away, Luca. We both know you’re not going to shoot me. You and I both know now this is what Father wanted.”
My body tenses yet again as Dante’s pleading eyes land on me. “Help us stage the scene…”
The frog that’s been taking up residence in my throat finally leaps free as I croak, “What? Stage? To look like what? There’s nobody else here…”
Dante nods, sighing softly. Luca turns to look at me. He puts his own gun away, shoving it back into the front of his pants and walks over to me, gathering my face in his hands. “It has to look like suicide, Emily... my Father left a note he intended to be the official record. It’s the only way that someone doesn’t go down in a conspiracy to commit murder…”