by LaQuette
Dante took a knee in front of Bernadino, bringing them to the same level. “Why do you care?” he whispered. “Why does it matter if I put her in harm’s way or not? You barely knew her six years ago.”
“I barely know her now. My own grandmother won’t let me anywhere near her. She called me to tell me you’d found them. Asked me what she should do.”
“Your response?”
“To leave it to Sanai,” Bernadino answered. “It didn’t matter what I wanted. It never did. She was always going to love you.”
“One more thing.” Dante pulled his gun from his waistband and let it hang from firm fingers at his side. “Be very careful how you answer this next question, Bernie. It will decide whether I let you live or die. Why did you keep this from me? I understand why you rushed her out of the state, why you got her set up at your grandmother’s. I thank you for protecting her, protecting my son. But what I don’t get is why you kept them both from me all this time.”
Bernadino leaned his head against the wall. Resignation rained over him, as if he was making peace with his fate, whatever it turned out to be. “You’re my brother, Dante. There was no way I was gonna let her die at Tomassa’s hands. I loved you too much, was too loyal to you and your father to let that happen. That’s why I rushed her out of town. But as for keeping her secret… She asked me if you’d been cheating on her, if there was any truth to what Tomassa implied. I told her you’d never cheat on her. Whatever this hit was about, it had nothing to do with you cheating and everything to do with a crazy person who was off her fucking meds. Then she asked me if telling you would keep her safe.”
Bernadino opened his eyes facing Dante, truth resting in their depths. “Your answer, Bernie?”
“I told her the truth. As long as she was attached to you, Tomassa would more than likely keep coming for her. The only thing that would keep her safe was if you believed she was dead. If you believed it, everyone else would too. We both know your grief, and Tomassa witnessing it on a daily basis, is the only thing that’s kept Sanai and your son alive. My question: How exactly are you going to protect her now? What are you willing to give in order to protect them both, Dante? I’ve risked my life and placed my grandmother in danger, all to protect the woman my best friend loved. What are you willing to give, Dante?”
* * * *
Tomassa paced the carpeted floor with fierce steps. She was almost tempted to pull the plush carpet up just to hear the power of her angry steps reverberating throughout the room. She marched over to the bar and poured herself a drink. Her hands were shaking with rage, leaving just as much liquid on the bar surface as in her glass.
She took a hard swig and let the burning sensation add to the fire resting in the pit of her belly. How the fuck hadn’t she seen this coming?
“Fucking Dante DeLuca,” she screamed. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”
She poured another drink and swallowed it in one fast gulp. She stared at the heavy tumbler in her hand as light glinted off the crystal.
“How the fuck did you find out what I did?” she asked the empty walls. She’d plotted and planned that girl’s death for almost a year. There were only four people in that apartment that night. The girl, whom Tomassa knew for a fact was dead. Tomassa had watched her bodyguards beat the life out of that girl. The fire was just icing to cover up all the loose ends of Tomassa’s involvement. It also served as an extra-sweet way to make Dante hurt just a little more.
How the hell did Dante find out how she was involved with his girlfriend’s death, and with that rat Eli Rosen’s? Tomassa was methodical and manipulative. She always got what she wanted, any way she needed to get it.
She shook her head free of the questions pounding against her brain and threw the glass tumbler against the wall. “I’ve worked too damn hard to have you take it all away, Dante. You are going to die today!”
She picked up the phone and began searching through her contact list. She was Tomassa Esposito-DeLuca. She had killers on speed dial waiting to do her bidding. Dante would be dead long before he had the opportunity to file any paperwork ending their marriage.
“That’s right,” she barked. “You fuck with me, and I will end you quickly.”
She was about to connect the call when a thought stopped her action. “Why should it be quick?” she asked herself. “Does he really deserve quick after what he just did to you? I mean, yeah, I killed his girlfriend, but he’s been part of this business for years. Dante knows it wasn’t personal. But the way he’s just ending everything, taking away everything I love… This is personal.”
She dropped the phone on the floor, not caring where it fell. She returned to the bar, picking up a new shiny tumbler and filling it to its brim.
“You want to get personal, Dante?” she asked. “Then let’s. Let’s get personal…slow and personal. You leave thinking you’ve won. It will be that much sweeter that way. You won’t see me coming. No one ever does.”
Chapter Fourteen
Dante had raised his hand to ring Sanai’s bell when the door opened and an elderly Italian woman’s gaze slammed onto him.
“Mrs. Rossi, how are you?” He smiled at her, doing his best to keep from fidgeting under her stare.
“Long time, Dante. You no come see Mrs. Rossi before. Why?”
For a brief moment Dante thought to pull out the old charms he’d used as a boy. Tell her how beautiful she was, flash her a smile and wink while he asked what she was cooking. Asking an Italian grandmother if you could have some of her food was the easiest way to be welcomed into the fold. It was like their DNA was encoded with the gene to make large sums of food for an army’s worth of family.
His spiel was on the tip of his tongue when he saw something akin to worry sparkle in her gray eyes.
“Is everything okay Mrs. Rossi? Sanai, Nazario?”
She waved him inside the front door and motioned for him to follow her into her apartment. It was like stepping back into his childhood when he entered. He’d carried Naz into her bed when they’d arrived from the hospital, but for some reason, Dante hadn’t taken the opportunity to look around. Now, he could make out the same large, wooden crucifix still hanging in the hallway against the right wall. He could see the yellowed floral wallpaper that used to be white when he was kid, still sticking to the walls of the kitchen. He’d spent so many afternoons in this room, eating all sorts of handmade treats.
“Sit.” She pointed to the little round table in the corner and ambled to the cabinet to remove small coffee cups. She placed a cup in front of him followed by a plate of chocolate biscotti. She poured him a cup of coffee, then slid the biscuits over to him and said, “Mangia.”
He dipped his biscuit into his coffee and leaned in to take a bite. “You still make the best biscotti, Mrs. Rossi.”
“Your tongue is still sweet like devil. You tell my girl sweet lies with that tongue?”
He stopped shoving the treats in his mouth long enough to look up with questioning eyes. “Scusami?”
“Sanai was scared when she came. More afraid than I see in long time,” she added as she continued. “Bernie no tell me what happened. But I not stupid. I know bad things happened to her. Did you make her afraid?”
He understood now what this was about. She wanted to know if Sanai was safe with him.
“I promise you, I never did anything to hurt her. I loved her more than my own life.”
She seemed to relax a little. She rested against the back of the chair while taking a long sip from her cup.
“I knew he was yours. I no ask, but I knew.” Dante didn’t have to ask who the “he” was. If Nazario looked as much like Dante as an infant as he did now, it would have been obvious to a blind man that Dante was his father. “Long time since you loved her. You still love her like before?”
Dante thought about that question for a moment. He couldn’t truly remember a time when he hadn’t loved Sanai. Even when he thought she was dead, he still loved her then. But was it the exac
t same love?
He’d only been in her presence for a short while. But strangely, it was the most significant time of his life. He loved her, yes, but was it the same? No. They’d had a couple of sexual encounters in the last thirty days. With that kind of irregularity, he knew it wasn’t the sex helping him to form a decision about this.
It was the time he’d spent with her in the hospital. Watching her take care of his son, watching her give everything to his little boy—those were the moments that his love ran deepest for her. Those were the moments that made him ache for a more permanent place in her life, in both their lives.
“I love her, but not like before. What we had before was powerful, but it was also very shallow. What’s there now, what we have the potential to share now, with Naz, with sharing a child… It’s just deeper. I love her, Mrs. Rossi.”
“Enough to leave La Cosa Nostra?”
“Yes.”
“Is no easy…leaving that way of life.”
He shook his head. It wasn’t. The power, the money…it was addicting. But even if you could lay all those things down, sometimes that life refused to let you go.
“I’ve already given it up, paid my debts and respects, done all that I can to make a clean break.”
Dante knew he’d always have to be vigilant that his old life didn’t touch Sanai and Nazario. He was willing to do whatever necessary in order to keep them safe.
“And what if they come for them to get to you?”
A frigid chill spilled down his spine. His cup in midair, he stared directly at her, making sure she saw the truth of his statement.
“I’ll do what I can to keep my family safe. But if any man or woman is foolish enough to bring harm to them, I’ll scorch the earth if necessary to destroy them.”
She nodded her head. Seemingly pleased with his response, she cleared away their dishes and turned to him. “You want to protect her, tell her about La Cosa Nostra.”
He shook his head. It was something he’d contemplated during their previous time together. When his father was still alive, running the notorious DeLuca family, Pops told him Sanai wasn’t one of them. She wouldn’t be able to handle it. Their life, the crime, the violence, the uncertainty of life expectancy… If you weren’t raised that way, how could you understand it all?
His father had warned him he’d lose Sanai if she ever found out what his family really did. Back then it was relatively easy to keep Sanai and his family business separate. She’d only met his family a handful of times, always on neutral ground like a restaurant, never at the family compound. But now, if their relationship continued in the direction he hoped, it might be more of a juggling act than before.
It didn’t matter. Telling her wasn’t an option. He’d lost her once, lost five years of his son’s life as a result. He wasn’t about to do anything that could possibly cause her to walk away again.
“It’s over, Mrs. Rossi. She doesn’t need to know anything about it. Please, she must never know. You can never tell her.”
There was a sad understanding in her eyes. She’d lived as a mob wife for more years than he’d been alive. She more than anyone else understood the dangers of his current path. She nodded in agreement, but in the gray of her eyes he saw her disappointment looming. She wouldn’t tell. He just hoped the universe would hold his secret as well as Mrs. Rossi.
Chapter Fifteen
“Dante, you’re back!” Nazario sat on the couch under a blanket. His skin seemed to have a little more color to it than when Dante had left for Florida—no doubt as result of Mrs. Rossi’s cooking and Sanai’s pampering.
“I told you I’d be back in a few days.”
“Bring me somethin’?”
Dante smiled. He couldn’t help it. At a glance anyone could tell the boy was sick. The perma-gray hue to his fair skin, the dark circles that seemed to age him beyond his five years, the clean scalp free of hair—it all told Nazario’s truth. He was fighting for his health, for his life. But even with such a heavy burden on his shoulders, that impish smile, the way his dark, soulful eyes twinkled, this kid still held so much light and wonder inside himself.
“’Course I did.” Dante shrugged. “Didn’t I tell you I would?”
Dante pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped a few times until his photo gallery came up. He handed the boy the phone and watched his face brighten with splendid fascination.
“You really do know them?”
Dante nodded.
“Mommmmmyyyyy!”
Sanai came running from the kitchen. “What happened?”
She leaned down behind Nazario and looked down at the photo too. “These are the characters from that Salvation Squad cartoon he loves. Where’d you…?”
“Universal. Made a stop there to get this picture with the bots for my main man, Naz.”
“But I thought they were something make believe, like on TV, like in my dreams,” Naz whispered.
“Dreams can come true, Naz. Mine is coming true right now—getting to spend time with you and your mom.”
That seemed to surprise the boy. He glanced up from the picture for a moment to meet Dante’s gaze.
“You dreamed of spending time with me and Mommy?”
Dante nodded, glancing up at Sanai to see if she was all right with the turn the conversation was taking.
She gave a single nod and smiled, giving him permission to go on. They hadn’t exactly discussed how either of them would tell Nazario the truth of Dante’s identity. But if she was really willing to have another child with Dante, surely it was time to tell their son who he really was.
“When I was a boy, I always dreamed that one day I would fall in love with the prettiest girl in the world. She and I would get married, and we’d have a son. A long time ago, I found that girl, and she loved me as much as I loved her. But one day I lost her.”
Nazario looked up at him again. Probably trying to figure out how the hell he could lose a person.
“I wasn’t paying as close attention to her as I should have, and we lost each other. She had to move away, and I didn’t get a chance to see her again for a long time.”
“You found her again?” the child asked with such innocence.
“Yeah, I did.” Dante beamed. “I found her and my son.”
The boy dropped his head for a minute. When he lifted it again, his bright eyes were clouded with sadness. “Does that mean you’re leaving? Are you going to be with them now?”
Dante looked over Nazario’s shoulder to Sanai’s waiting gaze, silently begging for her assistance. He was screwing this up, upsetting the boy. He sighed a relieved breath when Sanai moved closer to them, pulling the boy into her lap and hugging him against her chest.
“He’s five, Dante,” she said, smiling as she leaned back against the couch. “You can’t use abstract ideas to get him to understand complicated stuff.”
“I’m sorry… I—”
She stretched out a hand, rubbing it gently over the top of his, and brightened her smile. “I’ve had five years to figure this out. You will too.”
Growing up in a world filled with death and deception, there were few things that outright scared Dante. Sitting here attempting to explain the complicated set of events that led them all to this point made Dante’s heart beat painfully fast. However, the reassuring smile Sanai gave him coupled with the soft gift of her strength made Dante feel as if this moment wasn’t as insurmountable as he’d thought.
“Nazario.” Sanai called his name on a gentle whisper. “Do you remember when you asked me about your daddy?” Sanai waited patiently before speaking again. When Nazario answered with an excited, “Yes,” she continued. “I never had a chance to tell your dad about you because we lost contact with each other. Not too long ago, I found him again. Dante is your daddy, Naz.”
Dante couldn’t help but notice how small and fragile Nazario appeared sitting there in the cradle of his mother’s arms. He seemed to almost bury himself inside Sanai’s chest.
/> “Naz?” Sanai nudged the boy. “How do you feel about that?”
Nazario looked up to her then slowly turned his sights on Dante. The little boy watched Dante carefully, adding up in his head all the things he’d just been presented with.
“Are you gonna get lost again?” Nazario asked quietly.
Dante pulled the boy into his lap and hugged Nazario close to his chest. “I’m never going anywhere again, Nazario. Not now that I’ve found you and your mommy. Now that I know about you, I’m never going to be lost again.”
“Do I have to call you Daddy now?”
A tight ball of emotion lodged right in the center of Dante’s chest. What he wouldn’t give to hear his son call him that. This last month with Naz and Sanai had been filled with so many changes. It was almost impossible for Dante to process. If Dante felt the overwhelming press of these changes, what of a five-year-old child?
“That’s up to you, little man. If you want to call me Dante, I’m fine with that. If you want to call me Daddy, I’ll be just as happy. I just want to be here for you, Naz.”
The child drew back to look up at Dante and smiled. “You wanna watch Salvation Squad with me?”
Dante chuckled and fought to hold his tears back at the same time. “Yeah…I’d like that very much.”
* * * *
“Dante and Naz, food’s ready.”
Sanai gave the Brunswick stew a final stir with her ladle when she realized she didn’t hear any response to her call. She turned the simmering pot off and walked out into the living room.
There she found Dante sitting on the end of the couch, his legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at his socked ankles, his head tilted back on the cushions. Nazario was there next to him, little body stretched out across the length of the couch, head pillowed on Dante’s lap.
They’re perfect.
The picture of a father and his son napping together on the couch made it difficult for her to breathe. The normalcy of life in all its beauty, the perfect depiction of just how their lives should have been from the beginning—it choked her.