He made his way to me and cocked a brow. “Well?”
I chose not to wonder why he entertained me. Instead, I turned, walked up the steps of the limestone structure, and smiled at the night guard when he opened the door for me and Damian. “It’s upstairs.”
This was a bad idea. I knew this, but I didn’t stop. Trying to stop this would be like trying to stop lightning from striking the ground. I was only human, and any effort to do so would only get me hurt.
We passed the main reading room, which looked like the dining hall in Harry Potter, and I led him up the stairs, past dozens of rooms full of books, and into my little nook. In the early- to mid-1900s, secret apartments emerged across New York libraries for live-in caretakers. This one had become my sanctuary when I stayed in the city, but I didn’t stop to think about the implications of sharing it with Damian.
He leaned against one of the stacks that surrounded my full-sized bed as I stripped down to my underwear and tossed an oversized shirt over my torso. It fell down to the top of my thighs, and I considered throwing on sweats, but there was no point. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t already seen from me.
When I turned to face him, his eyes weren’t on my body like I had thought they would be. They remained transfixed on the diamond resting on my ring finger until I slid under my covers, hiding the rock beneath the duvet.
The ensuing silence made me uneasy.
“When I wake up, I’ll meet with Bastian and relay a course of action.” Damian’s eyes scanned the shelf next to the bed, and he dragged a finger across the worn book spines. He flipped through the stack of books I had put aside for myself. A small smile tipped the corners of his lips when he saw Dostoevsky, the first book we’d read together.
I cleared my throat until he stopped his snooping. “He’s gonna wonder what your interest is. Will you tell him she’s your sister?”
“No. I’ll use the situation to leverage a favor or two from him.”
“Smoke and mirrors. It’s ballsy.”
“It’ll work.” A beat passed, and Damian took a step back. “Why am I really here, Knight?” He stared at me with naked desire and something else I didn’t dare consider.
I debated lying, and I should have, but there were already too many lies between us. Keeping track of them tired me. “I didn’t like that look in your eyes earlier. Like your world had flipped, and you had no control.”
“Knight.” He shook his head, but it wasn’t disappointment in his eyes. “Always trying to save me.” He didn’t sound mad about it. Just matter of fact.
I would have preferred anger. At least then, it wouldn’t feel like he knew me too well.
I didn’t answer. I didn’t trust myself to. People heard the word “saving” and associated it with victims. But no sane person could see Damian as a victim—myself included. He just had this pain buried deep inside of him, and I wanted to be the person who took it away. Call me selfish, but it was just as much for me as it was for him.
I shouldn’t have come to New York. This wasn’t fair for either of us. I couldn’t be near him without wanting to be with him, and he... too many people in his life had let him down. Perhaps me most of all.
Damian’s eyes latched onto the paperback beside my pillow.
I considered hiding it before grabbing the book and tossing it to the foot of the bed. I nodded my head at it. “Go ahead.”
I didn’t breathe as he took a step closer.
He took a seat on the mattress. “The Toynbee Convector.” He cleared his throat, and it took him a moment to continue speaking. “Which story are you reading in the collection?”
My toes curled as his hip brushed against my leg. “Not the one you’re thinking.” My eyes drifted shut. “I’m halfway through ‘One Night in Your Life.’”
Another lie.
Stop it with the lies, Renata.
You’re better than this.
He deserves better, too.
Yesterday, I had finished “The Toynbee Convector,” the short story the collection had been named after. But it was a story from our past, one we had shared in the De Luca library in Devils Ridge. Mentioning it would bring up memories I had forced myself to forget. I couldn’t go there, even though we both knew his presence here already blurred lines.
“I know what you’re doing.”
My heartbeat picked up. “Nothing.”
Gosh, when had I become such a liar?
I turned until I faced the wall, away from him. I could still feel his body heat against my legs. “I’m doing nothing.”
“Sure.” He kicked off his shoes; removed his suit jacket; unbuttoned his tailored button down, so it hung open; and settled beside me.
I stilled as he lifted the covers, and the length of his body brushed against my back. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing,” he mocked, like we were eighteen and in love again.
Why were we doing this to ourselves?
This wasn’t one of our library dates, where we joked around and fell in love with each other. We were tense. Angry. Full of painful history. Playful mocking was nothing but a lie.
But noise filled the air as he opened the book and flipped a few pages. “I’m doing nothing.”
And then, he read the first line of “The Toynbee Convector.” I knew him well enough to know this was his way of thanking me. His way of evening the score without addressing the emotions that came with seeing me again. It shouldn’t have meant anything.
But just like all those years ago, I gave a piece of my heart to him. I wondered who was hurting who here.
The engagement ring felt as heavy on my finger as the lies I’d been telling myself for the past ten years.
We like to be deceived.
Blaise Pascal
Must-stained pages stifled my breathing as I roused from a deep sleep. I lifted the book off my face and stilled when Knight’s arm tightened around my waist. We’d never done this. Never spent the night beside one another on a bed. I felt like a virginal teenage boy again, and I wasn’t sure if I welcomed the sentiment or abhorred it.
Lifting her arm off me, I slipped out of the bed, hoping her time away from the mafia had dulled her senses enough to keep her sleeping. By the time I slipped my suit jacket on, her breathing remained level, and I could have taken the moment to sneak away.
Instead, I stared.
Her differences stood out to me. The cinch of her waist. The volume of her hips. Her natural dark hair color popped against the pink of her lips. She was the same girl, but so, so different. I wanted to memorize her all over again. I also wanted to get as far away from her as I could.
She’d taken me here to get my mind off things.
I had read a story of our past to her to thank her.
Neither of our actions changed the fact that beneath that duvet laid a rock the size of a nickel.
Fuck.
I still wanted her. Seeing her again reminded me of everything I’d missed about her. I turned and left before I pushed her before she was ready.
My driver showed up with a pair of clean clothes, and I changed into the jeans and white tee as we pulled up to the Wilton University campus, the meeting point Bastian had texted me a few minutes ago.
Another town car pulled up beside me, and I slid into the back beside Bastian.
His face remained blank as he took a sip of a smoothie the same shade as Kermit the Frog, shit you’d never see a grown man doing in small-town Texas. “You hear from Renata Vitali?”
I pasted indifference on my face while swallowing the bitter taste of hearing Ren’s name from another man’s lips. “Yes.”
We sat in silence.
He shifted in his seat. “… And?”
“And she agreed to discretion, so long as the matter is sufficiently handled on your end.”
“What does discretion entail?”
“It means the encounter will be slipped into the Vitali archives, and so long as no attention is drawn to this weekend, there should be
no reason for anyone to investigate.”
Translation: don’t fuck up and draw attention to us.
“What does she want in return?”
“I’ve taken care of that.”
“In exchange for what?”
In truth, I still reeled from the revelation of having a sister and the overwhelming urge to protect her. But in case Bastian didn’t know this, I planned on keeping it a secret and misdirecting him.
I considered my options. The Romano family represented the strongest syndicate family. They had more pull than every territory in America.
My head hit the headrest as I relaxed into the leather. “One day, probably soon, you’ll take over the Romano family. When you have the power, you’ll use it to bring the De Luca family back into the syndicates’ inner circle.”
Perhaps I was an asshole for taking advantage of the situation. That didn’t bother me. Though it was worth mentioning that I really did want my sister safe, and I’d welcome a future where we could get to know one another… but I also wanted a future for the De Luca name I’d fought so hard to save. I had an opportunity here to get both, and I planned on taking it.
“And if I don’t take over the Romano family?”
“You will.” I turned to face him. “Your uncle is dead, and your dad and remaining uncles are approaching retirement ages. You’re next in the bloodline. Or have you forgotten that?”
His face stayed blank, but his jaw shifted a tick, and I knew I had him riled up. My specialty. “Your discretion and the Vitali discretion in exchange for a seat at the table?”
“Yes.”
“Fine.” He pulled out a pen and thick contract paper with the Romano letterhead and seal at the top. “If word gets out, this agreement will be nullified, and retribution will be sought.”
“Understood.” I watched as his pen moved across the page. “Have you heard of The Benefactor?”
I’d be lying if I said I had reached the De Luca throne on my own. I left a trail of blood, sweat, and tears. And the most important factor was also the one I never fully understood. Someone helped me from the start. An anonymous colluder. One who didn’t ask for anything in return.
I always suspected he or she was connected to the Romano territory. Hell, I’d once gotten a package from The Benefactor that I had traced to Romano territory. I’d traced everything since. It all came back to Romano territory.
“Why?” Bastian’s pen stilled, and he didn’t look up from the paper. “Are you amending the agreement?”
“No.”
He continued writing. “Then, we have nothing to discuss, De Luca.”
“Your family wanted me here.” I kicked a foot up on the mini fridge. “You may as well treat me like a guest.”
His thinly veiled irritation amused me. “I can assure you we couldn’t give two shits whether you’re here or not.”
“Oh, we have plenty to discuss, Romano. I received a handwritten invitation to Vincent’s funeral, sent from your territory. Vincent is your capo.” I nodded to the paper he held. “The letterhead and seal on the invitation was from your family.” He finally looked up at me, and I pressed on. “Last I checked, the Hamptons is your territory. This involves you, and if it doesn’t, your territory has more leaks than a used condom. Which is it, Romano? Are you involved or are you a used condom?”
“American politicians and foreign dignitaries vacation in the Hamptons. The Romano family stays out of the Hamptons as a courtesy for the work the politicians and dignitaries on our payroll do. In fact, the only mafioso in the Hamptons is…” His eye twitched, and he paused and looked down at the contract before handing it to me.
I waited for him to say something. When he didn’t, I considered pressing my luck but decided to keep the small win. Instead, I skimmed the contract, took the pen from him, and twisted the cap off the opposite end. A small blade sat at the end of the pen. Pressing it to my thumb until crimson smeared across the surface, I stamped my thumbprint onto the contract.
Syndicate agreements were always signed in blood.
The people of the world having once been deceived, suspect deceit in truth itself.
Hitopadesa
Most mafiosos anticipated the roundtable discussions after the passing of a high-ranking syndicate member. They represented a shift, an opportunity to gain leverage or lose it. It was my job as the Vitali representative to assure that no war broke out as four syndicates attempted to take advantage of the bereaved syndicate in their period of grief.
I suspected this wouldn’t be difficult given the reverence Vincent Romano had garnered, but I wondered how the syndicate representatives would take my presence. Traditionally, the Vitali head—Papà—would lead these meetings. Since he couldn’t step foot in New York without breaking his agreement with Maman and she couldn’t come without risking the secrecy of her relationship with Vince, the five syndicates were stuck with me.
Lucky all of us.
The passing of a caporegime, consiglieri, underboss, or boss was a three-day event. A day of funeral processions. A day of negotiations. A day of celebration. Usually, the syndicate whose member died constituted the only somber party on the day of negotiations. Today, every single face possessed a grave expression.
It was the ultimate show of respect to Vincent Romano.
Only his death could elicit grief in every syndicate.
As the Vitali representative, I sat at the head of the oval table. As leaders of the bereaved syndicate, Gio, Frankie, Eli, and Bastian Romano sat at the opposite end of the table, taking up the most space.
The other four syndicates were allowed one representative each. Marco Camerino on behalf of the Camerino family. Rafaello Rossi on behalf of the Rossi family. Ranieri Andretti on behalf of the Andretti family. And Damiano De Luca on behalf of the De Luca family.
I tried to ignore Damian as I opened the giant book in front of me and began to read. “We are gathered here today to respect the passing of a valued syndicate member.” Electric power coursed through me as I commanded the room, but all I could feel were Damian’s eyes on me.
I swallowed before continuing. “The roundtable proceedings exist to remind us that the passing of Vincent Romano is not an opportunity for malfeasance, revenge, nor avaricious behavior. In a moment, I will open up the discussion for peace talks, starting with the De Luca family and ending with the Romano family. Are we in agreement?”
After a round of “ayes” across the table, I nodded to Damian and asked, “What would the De Luca family like to request?” A snort came from the transcriber, and I cut her with a vicious look. “You may be excused.”
Damian’s eyes burned holes in the side of my face, and I couldn’t meet his stare. I didn’t want to see his reaction to what I’d done for him. I didn’t think I could handle it.
“But—”
“Bring in your replacement on your way out.”
Transcribing for a historic roundtable negotiation was a privilege she clearly didn’t deserve. She may not have believed that a De Luca deserved a seat at the table, but I knew Damian better than anyone else, and no one deserved it more. No one.
As she left, my eyes traveled across the room, the warning clear in them. I had just spoken up for a De Luca when, as the Vitali representative, I was supposed to be the neutral party. I didn’t say anything that favored Damian’s syndicate, but the act of removing the transcriber was close enough for lines to be drawn.
I couldn’t explain it. Hell, I couldn’t control it. It wasn’t just my desire to make up for the past. It was more than that. Damian deserved respect, and I wanted to be the one to help him gain it. Never mind the fact that he had left me this morning and I hadn’t heard from him since.
The replacement transcriber entered the conference room with her head down. She sat at the desk in the corner of the room. Once she scooted her chair in and rested her fingers on the keyboard, I nodded my head to Damian. I finally turned to face him.
He gave me that look. The same loo
k he had given me when I had witnessed his dad punching him, and I’d told him to pick himself up. That he was stronger than his self-pity. (I would always believe that.)
Damian cleared his throat. “The De Luca family declines to put forth an agenda in respect for Vincent Romano’s passing.”
His words hung in the air.
Unprecedented.
The clacking from the transcriber halted. Frankie swore, and Bastian stared at Damian with renewed interest. I could feel the surprise and respect Damian had earned with his words, but I couldn’t emotionally process what he had said.
Damian had passed on an opportunity for leverage. One I knew he desperately needed. He was the only one I’d ever told about Maman and Vincent, and when my eyes met his, I knew he had done this for me. Even when friction existed between us, we looked out for one another. I swore, I’d never been more attracted to Damian than I was in this moment.
My body tensed as the aches of losing Damian ten years ago and losing Vincent recently traveled through me. Beside me, Damian reached for my hand under the table. I wanted distance from him. Hell, the hypocrite in me wanted to hate him for leaving without a goodbye this morning—even though he hadn’t meant to fall asleep at my place in the first place.
But I could never hate him.
Not when I knew who he was.
As his thumb stroked my hand in a soothing motion, another wall of mine shattered. I flipped my hand upside down and interlocked my fingers with his. He squeezed my hand, and a decade of lost time pulsed between our palms.
What were we doing?
Why couldn’t we help ourselves?
I turned away from Damian, keeping my expression measured. Our hands remained under the table, where no one could see them. I suppose old habits die hard, and just like it was my instinct to stick up for him when I could, it was Damian’s instinct to hold my hand when he saw me in pain.
The rational part of me knew I needed to let go.
The larger part of me, the one that still loved Damian, refused to.
Dark Romance Collection: A Sexy, Dark Bundle Page 9