Detroit Mafia Box Set Books 1-3 (Detroit Mafia Romance)

by Tami Lund

  “Hey, don’t try to lay the blame at my feet just because he’s good in bed,” Margot snapped.

  “I never said—”

  “You didn’t have to. It’s obvious in the way you’re acting right now. You think you’re in love with him, and you’re trying to find a way to believe he isn’t as bad as he is.”

  In love with him? No way. Absolutely not. She wasn’t—

  “I’m not that bad,” Antonio said. “I tried not sleeping with her. I didn’t want to; I mean, I really, really wanted to, but I knew it was a bad idea. I fucking knew this would happen.” He punched the wooden beam that supported the portico, and half the structure shook while he pulled his hand away, shaking it and cursing up a storm.

  “You lied to her,” Margot said.

  “What the hell else was I supposed to do?” Antonio shouted, his glare directed at Margot. “Tell her the truth? Come on, she’s one of the good ones. Like you.”

  “Yeah, actually,” Margot responded. “Because then she wouldn’t be in this position right now, would she?”

  “Fuck,” Antonio said. He flung his arms up, like he was surrendering, and he took a couple of steps backward. “What do you want from me?”

  What did she want? She wanted to go back in time, to before she knew he was a criminal. And she wanted it not to be true.

  But she couldn’t have that. Because it was true. Reality couldn’t be erased.

  “You’re a thief,” she said quietly.

  “No, I’m not,” he replied. And then, more forcefully, “I’m not.” He stabbed at his own chest. “I never stole anything. All I did was manage Gino’s money.”

  “But you knew where that money came from,” Phoebe said.

  “Yeah, I did. I do. But what the fuck else was I supposed to do?” He shifted his focus from Phoebe to Margot again. “You know what it’s like. And you only married into the family. I was born into it. I’ve been screwed since third grade.”

  Margot didn’t say anything, but Phoebe could see the tears welling in her eyes.

  “Go,” Phoebe said. It was bad enough her heart was breaking; she didn’t want him to hurt Margot, too.

  “Phoebe, come on…”

  “What are you going to do, Antonio?” Margot asked. “What do you want her to say? You said yourself you never should have dragged her into this mess. And you’re right. If by some miracle she forgives you for lying, then what? You’re going to keep seeing her? Make sure she’s in so deep she can’t find her way out either? You’re really willing to do that to her?”

  He blinked a few times, slowly, and then shook his head, his gaze on Phoebe, practically burning a hole through to her soul. “No. No, I’m not.” He started backing up again. “I’m stuck in my fucked up world, but I’d never ask you to be part of it. Not because I don’t love you, but because I do.”

  He reached the sidewalk and paused. “I’m not bringing Nina back again this week. I can’t. But I’ll keep working Gino, try to convince him to give her back sooner than later. It’s the best I can do.”

  And then he turned away and trudged down the path leading out to the parking lot. A moment later, an engine revved, and Phoebe heard the crunch of tires on gravel Antonio was leaving.

  For good.

  She stood there for a long time, staring into the darkness. She was aware of Margot nearby, doing the same thing. Her mind was running a mile a minute, but nothing was making sense. Her brain clearly didn’t want to process what just happened.

  Maybe she was in shock.

  “You going to be okay?” Margot asked, touching her shirt sleeve.

  Before she could respond, the teenage kid who’d caught her and Tony—no, Antonio—making out stepped out of the shadows. “Hey, now that he’s out of the picture, do I have a shot?” he called out.

  Phoebe and Margot both stared at him. After a few seconds, he lifted his hand to his ear and curled his fingers and thumb to resemble a phone and mouthed, “Call me,” before jogging away down the sidewalk.

  As she watched his retreating back, Phoebe said, “Would you believe just yesterday I wondered if I’d fallen in love with him?”

  “That kid?” Margot said.

  Phoebe jerked her head up to give Margot an incredulous look. “No. Tony. I mean, Antonio.”

  “Oh. Right. Yes, I would.”

  “You would?”

  Margot nodded. “He’s a very likable guy. I can totally see you falling for him.”

  Phoebe’s mouth fell open. “He’s a criminal.”

  “Gino’s the criminal. Antonio’s just…trapped.”

  “You told me he launders Gino’s money. Because the money isn’t clean. That whatever Gino does to earn it, it isn’t legal.”

  Margot flapped her hand. “I know, but Antonio doesn’t do it maliciously. He just does what he’s told. If he had a choice, I know he’d walk away in a heartbeat.”

  “Did I imagine the part where you were just telling me that Antonio never should have hooked up with me in the first place?”

  “No, you didn’t, and it’s still true. It’s also true that he’d be a heck of a catch if he weren’t a Sarvilli.”

  He’d told Phoebe his last name was Swansen.

  Another lie.

  “Although listening to me is probably not a good idea,” Margot continued. “Hell, I married the actual criminal. And had a baby with him.”

  Phoebe canted her head and studied the other woman. “Did you love him when you got married?”

  Margot lifted her left hand and stared at it. Was she picturing the wedding ring Phoebe assumed had once adorned the third finger? “I loved the idea of being adored,” she said quietly, and then she shook her head. “I’ve never said this out loud before, but I believe my pregnancy was not an accident. I think Gino realized how unhappy I was and messed with my pills. Traded them for sugar pills or something. I don’t know. What I do know is I took those damn things faithfully every single day, at the exact same time. And I hadn’t been on antibiotics. I did everything right. I was as careful as one could possibly be aside from being abstinent.”

  “Wow.” This was so outside of the box of her life, Phoebe felt like a fish flopping around on shore, the water’s edge just out of reach.

  Margot grimaced. “And you know the worst part? We hardly ever had sex. You think newlyweds would be like bunnies, right? Not us. And not because I didn’t want to, either. Despite the man I was learning he was, Gino was still attractive back then, and I definitely desired him, at least on a physical level.”

  “Yeah, that is weird.”

  “I’d already begun to suspect he was cheating on me, so you can imagine how upset I was when I figured out I was pregnant. Because then I was well and truly trapped. At least that’s what it felt like. I thought I would be able to escape if it was just me, but add a kid to the mix and I knew I’d never be able to get out.”

  “But you did. You divorced him.”

  “And as you now know, I’m just as trapped as I was when we were married. The only difference is, I don’t have to actually live with him. He still manages my life. Won’t even let me get a job. I even went to Walmart, applied to be a freaking greeter, just to see. And even they didn’t hire me. Gino says it’s because he wants me to focus on taking care of Nina, but really, it’s all about control.”

  “Wow.” Phoebe didn’t know what else to say.

  Margot nodded, her mouth thinning. “I can’t date, I can’t leave the city, I can’t even go on vacation without getting his approval first. And every time he thinks I’m breaking one of his rules, he pulls something like this, to remind me of how powerful he truly is.”

  “And Antonio obviously knows all this.”

  “Yes. I mean, they’re brothers, after all. Despite that, though, Antonio isn’t a terrible person.”

  Phoebe didn’t want to hear about Antonio’s positive attributes. He’d lied to her ,and despite what Margot said, if he knew how Gino was earning the money he managed, then Antonio w
as a criminal too.

  “Do you want to know what Gino’s other business is?” Margot asked abruptly. “The one that actually makes all the profit?”

  “Dry cleaning isn’t profitable?” Phoebe said weakly.

  Margot snorted. “Not profitable enough for Gino. Doesn’t make nearly as much as murder does.”

  Phoebe had lived for twenty-six years having no earthly idea this sort of life existed outside of the movies. “You know what, I think I’m going to call it a night. I’m pretty sure I don’t want to hear any more.”

  But Margot was apparently on a roll. “For a long time, I think Antonio did what he did simply because he was good at it, and he truly enjoys the mathematics, the skill it takes to grow currency. He also did a good job of keeping his head in the sand, pretending he wasn’t actually working for a murderer.”

  Phoebe shook her head. “I really don’t want—”

  “Give Proctor a call. Ask him how many open missing persons files he has. Ask him if he thinks they are still alive. And then ask him who he thinks is responsible for every single one of them. Proctor is an ass, but he’s a cop through and through, and in his mind, he needs to find justice for the dead and their families. That’s why he doesn’t give up, even though Gino manages to cover his trail every single time.”

  “No one is that good.”

  “You don’t know Gino. He’s a monster. A very, very clever monster.” She paused. “But his brother isn’t. Problem is, Antonio is right. He can’t get out, and he’s too good a man to pull you into that world. I know that isn’t much of a consolation right now, but I promise you, losing him now is a far better option.”

  Phoebe shook her head. “I don’t want him anyway. I’m not interested in criminals. That line is pretty black and white.”

  “Is it?”

  “It should be.”

  Margot blew out a breath that ruffled her bangs. “I shouldn’t be telling you any of this. I hope to hell Antonio really did convince Gino that you don’t know anything.”

  “Why are you telling me?”

  Margot’s tiny smile wavered. “I haven’t had a friend, a real one, since I met Gino. It’s nice to be able to talk to someone without worrying that they have ulterior motives.”

  Phoebe sighed. “No ulterior motives here.”

  The next day, Phoebe went through the motions at work, but when the day was done, if someone had held a gun to her head she wouldn’t have been able to tell them what she’d accomplished. The only thing she could say with certainty was that she’d attempted to plant a begonia three times before Ian had tugged the trowel out of her hand and done it for her.

  When she pulled into her space in the lot in front of her apartment building, she glanced around for a burgundy car. “Crap. Knock it off, Phoebe.”

  Why was she looking for him anyway? What did she expect would happen if he were here, waiting for her? She wouldn’t take him back.

  She couldn’t.

  Criminals were not good people. A man who managed the income of a murderer was not someone she wanted to associate with.

  It didn’t matter how sweet he was, how caring, how affectionate.

  God, she already missed his hugs, the way he held her. She had told him she was used to being alone, but he was right when he guessed that she didn’t actually like it.

  After showering—alone—she curled up on the couch in her pajamas and lifted the lid on her laptop. She’d told Margot she didn’t want to know any more, and, yes, there was still a part of her that didn’t. Ignorance was bliss. She’d never given that phrase much thought until now, but suddenly it was the most logical sentence to ever have been uttered.

  Problem was, she couldn’t stop thinking about Antonio, despite everything she now knew. She needed more incentive to convince herself to stay away, to forget about him, to move on with her life.

  So she Googled Gino Sarvilli.

  One of the first articles to pop up on the screen was a society piece about the last wedding Phoebe had worked. The accompanying photograph was of the mother of the bride, smiling at the camera, her husband to her left and Gino Sarvilli seated to her right.

  He looked a lot like Antonio, except bigger, and that playful spark in Antonio’s eye was definitely missing.

  The next article was about a law firm that Gino apparently had on retainer. They claimed they’d never lost a case, and, no, they weren’t taking on new clients. Did Gino pay them enough to ensure they were at his disposal twenty-four-seven?

  She didn’t want to think about it. Yet the next hyperlink on her screen led to a story that speculated about Gino’s net worth. The author wondered if the man actually paid taxes on all that money he believed Gino had.

  The next one was about a missing person case. It hinted at a connection between Gino Sarvilli and the person who hadn’t been heard from since 2014.

  But there was no proof that Gino had been involved. And according to his tax records, Gino paid exactly what he was supposed to, based on what he made through his dry cleaning company.

  Yet Margot and Antonio both had confirmed that he was definitely a dangerous man, one neither of them was willing to cross.

  And Antonio laundered his money.

  This Google search definitely wasn’t helping. Phoebe slammed the laptop closed and leaped off the couch, heading into the bedroom to change into shorts and a tank so she could go for a jog.

  She had nothing better to do.

  No one was coming over. She had nowhere to visit. She didn’t even want to see Margot right now.

  Leaving the apartment, she headed down the long, winding drive that would take her out to the main road hung a left. Going right was what had gotten her into this mess in the first place.

  Doing the right thing.

  She’d always done the right thing, her entire life. She rarely disobeyed her mother. She got good grades. She didn’t gossip; turned down the offer of cigarettes in eighth grade, of a joint in college. And then that fateful wedding.

  Her career had been on a steady upswing until then. Brides and their mothers were referring her to their friends; the company she worked for had presented her with its employee of the year award not six months prior.

  If she’d simply turned down the groom and not told his fiancée, where would she be now?

  She likely wouldn’t have gone out and gotten hammered with her co-workers on a Thursday night, and therefore wouldn’t have been hung over Friday morning. She might not have gone on that jog and spotted Margot’s daughter getting herded into a black town car, thus sparking the sharp turn in the path her life had taken since.

  She wouldn’t have met Antonio.

  She wouldn’t have experienced the pleasure of being fawned over, the absolute enjoyment a date could be when the guy was attentive and interested in her. The anticipation and excitement of growing closer and wanting to get physical.

  All those orgasms.

  The cuddling afterward. Waking up with Antonio in her bed. The way he kissed her when she left for work.

  Yes, at least some of their brief relationship had been contrived; there was no doubt in Phoebe’s mind.

  But was all of it?

  Call her naïve, but she didn’t believe the affection he showed was fake. And while his motives were wrong, the things he did, said, the way he acted…yeah, she was a fool, because despite what she now knew about him, she didn’t hate him.

  She wasn’t ever going to talk to him again, of course, but she didn’t hate him. Like Margot, he’d made a few poor decisions that had landed him in a situation—a life—he could not break free from. They would both be tied to Gino Sarvilli until they died.

  Phoebe surely wasn’t off base assuming Antonio would go straight if he could only get out from under his brother’s thumb. Margot had even said the same thing.

  Not that it mattered. Not to Phoebe.

  She continued jogging, pushing through the burning in her legs. Maybe she could run away from all the memories.
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br />   If Phoebe hadn’t told the bride when the groom propositioned her, the young lady in white would have been oblivious as she stood next to him and swore to love a cheater til death do they part.

  But she still married him, despite Phoebe’s information.

  And three months later, the groom had died in an automobile accident, making her a widow at twenty-four.

  Gino Sarvilli had been at that wedding. Margot said he was an associate, not a family friend.

  Was it possible the groom’s death was linked to him?

  Phoebe stopped running and bent at the waist, gasping for breath.

  Was it? Had the bride—or her mother—realized Phoebe had been right and gone to Antonio’s brother for a solution to their problem? Had they decided a supposed accidental death was better for their reputations than admitting the groom was a dirty cheater and the wedding never should have happened?

  She turned around and started jogging back toward her apartment. And then she kept going, down to the gas station, where she hung a left and then turned right onto the dirt drive leading to Margot’s cottage.

  When Margot opened the door, she said, “The world really isn’t black and white, is it?”

  11

  When The Cards Are On The Table…

  Antonio holed up in his condo for the rest of the week. He had nowhere else to be, anyway. Nina might miss him, but she’d get over it, because soon, hopefully, Gino would send her home to her mother and she’d forget all about the fun she had with her uncle Antonio.

  And all he needed to do his job was his laptop and a secure internet connection. So he worked. It was better than sitting around feeling sorry for himself.

  Yet all he was doing was breaking more laws and making Gino more money. Pretending he wasn’t a terrible person because it wasn’t Antonio who ordered the hits. Pretending it didn’t matter that he knew and did nothing, because what the fuck was he supposed to do about it?

  All he was doing was exactly what made Phoebe look at him like he was dog shit on the bottom of her shoe.