Empire

by Rachel Van Dyken

Well that was easy. I was a businessman. I owned several businesses, but they were all Abandonato businesses.

  “Do I have a different name too?”

  “Sergio.” He grinned as the wind picked up blowing his thick wavy grey hair away from his face, it made him look younger. “Just Sergio.”

  “Yeah, I give them five seconds to see through that.”

  “Eh, people see what you want them to see. You know that as well as I.”

  I gulped and looked away as his point aimed straight for my heart and dug in. I’d been feeling guilty about putting on a good show for my family back home in Chicago. Frank was the only one who knew it was all complete bullshit.

  That I was lost.

  That I felt like I would be lost forever.

  And the fear that came along with it — the fear that I’d found my home, only to lose it, along with the comfort that I’d never feel that way again.

  Ever.

  “Let’s go.” He slapped my back one last time as we walked across the street and made our way up the stairs to a neat brownstone. It was old, but well kept. The brick clean, the door displaying a nice knocker, and the mat in front of the door said Welcome.

  Hah, if they only knew…

  Frank raised his hand to knock.

  But it wasn’t needed.

  I knew it wasn’t needed, he knew it wasn’t needed, but for appearances, he did it anyway.

  The door swung open.

  A tall man with dark hair stood blocking our view. He had shots of gray woven through his hair, and he was holding a glass of wine, his lips pressed together in a tight frown.

  I stood my ground. Ready to take a bullet for the Alfero boss if need be — the last thing I wanted was to be held partially responsible for the killing of the last of the legends.

  Because that’s what Frank was.

  A legend.

  “You.” The man seethed.

  Frank’s cold stare had me wanting to chuckle. Damn the man was a bastard when he wanted to be. He tilted his head to the side and said. “Aren’t you going to invite me in, Gio?”

  “Go to hell,” Gio whispered. “They are safe. I have kept them safe.”

  Another stare down took place.

  We really didn’t want to be standing in the street, our backs exposed, our necks popping out like a dart board just waiting for the darts to come flying.

  “Gio,” I repeated the name and held out my hand. “I’m Sergio, Frank’s… grandson.”

  He stared down at my hand then narrowed his eyes. “You’re no more his grandson then I’m his aunt.”

  I took his half outstretched hand and squeezed. “And you have a very odd way of welcoming your family into your home…” I peered around him. “Roast pig? Sounds delicious.” I shoved past him and entered the house, as he cursed behind me.

  I expected a party.

  Something small.

  Like a birthday party.

  I might come from a big family, but the bosses and wives, we mainly kept to ourselves, because we couldn’t trust anyone.

  So a party would include, what? Twelve of us?

  Though I remembered years when I was younger, when parties occurred every night, when the entire neighborhood would drink wine and laugh.

  Suddenly I was transported back to my childhood.

  Back to a simpler time, when Andi would have been alive.

  When I was a child and innocent in the ways of the world.

  In the ways of the mafia.

  Women laughed loudly while they piled plates of food, men smoked cigars in the corner, their gestures big and loud.

  And then, as if an announcement was made.

  All talking and laughter stopped.

  I was used to people staring.

  So I straightened my shoulders and glared through every face, armor firmly in place. Just try it; seriously, my finger was itching to pull a trigger. I needed to get the aggression out somehow.

  Frank’s hand gripped my shoulder. “Allow me to introduce… my grandson, Sergio.”

  Men literally parted like water as we walked through the house, some ducked their heads, others nervously looked away while cursing under their breath.

  But the women.

  Appeared pissed.

  More than pissed.

  As if they knew Frank’s entire story and were just itching to scratch his eyes out.

  Huh, no wonder he never visited home.

  Not one friendly face.

  But at least no guns.

  I had to admit, I was disappointed.

  “Eat.” A woman approached us, swallowing slowly as her eyes darted between the two of us. “We have two roast pigs.”

  “Must be some celebration,” I spoke, careful to keep the slight accent from my voice. Andi had always said it came when I was either really emotional — or in bed. I pushed at the painful memory, but it clawed itself back into my consciousness, when the woman in front of us smiled warmly and handed me a plate.

  She pressed a hand to my wrist and whispered, “Eat.”

  Because that made my wife not dead.

  Food?

  Italians.

  The plate felt foreign in my hands and, for a minute, I was disoriented as if I truly wasn’t aware of the purpose it served.

  “You put food on it,” Frank muttered under his breath as he moved past me and started pulling at the pork.

  The woman’s smile turned into a frown. “Are you… vegetarian?”

  And again all talking ceased.

  God save me, you’d think she just asked if I’d denounced the Italian flag and didn’t go to mass.

  “No.” I forced a smile. “Just… really jet lagged.”

  “Oh.” People around me exhaled all together and then started chattering; I wondered if they would kick me out if I said I preferred soymilk?

  There was so much food I didn’t even know where to start. Huh, was that how Phoenix used to feel when I made fun of him for not eating? Back in the day, he’d thought that he didn’t deserve any kind of pleasure, that even tasting chocolate or wine would cause him to relapse into the sexual predator that he’d convinced himself he was. Asking the man to eat a grape was a life or death situation — or it had been. Until he was saved.

  Damn it.

  I didn’t want to be saved.

  No saving was needed.

  Because the truth of the matter was, I wasn’t really lost. I was just… empty.

  The truth hit me so hard, I sucked in a breath. My chest cracked, just a bit as I mindlessly started piling food onto a plate that I knew within five minutes would be dumped into the trash.

  “So…” The woman’s eyes were too intelligent for my liking. Her black hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, and her face was smooth and clear. It was nearly impossible to tell how old she was, but I knew she was at least pushing sixty. I frowned. Or maybe younger? She was beautiful, but clearly old enough to be my mother. “You do not like food then?”

  I pressed my lips together in a tight smile and was about to answer, when Frank wrapped a strong arm around my shoulder. “There has been a loss.”

  “A loss?” she repeated taking a step back from me.

  I didn’t know what to say. What the hell was he doing?

  “He has lost himself.”

  The woman nodded sagely as if she hung on every piece of shit that flew out of his mouth.

  “But he will find it.” Frank squeezed my shoulder. “Because if he doesn’t, I imagine she would be disappointed, and the last thing a man needs is to disappoint the one he lives for. Isn’t that right, grandson?”

  Pissed that he was bringing up something that was real in front of a complete stranger I jerked away and muttered, “Bathroom?”

  The woman pointed down the hall. I made a beeline around the table heaped with food, careful to keep my eyes averted lest anyone actually recognize that they were the same as Nixon’s, as the Abandonato boss, as the one family who had basically crushed any dreams the Alferos
had of being the leaders of the Cosa Nostra.

  Hell, they’d probably shit themselves if they knew who they’d just invited into their home.

  The Abandonatos and Alferos in Chicago had buried the hatchet a year ago.

  But something told me the Alferos in New York were still fixating on a mistake that had happened long ago, when a family turned against itself and blamed the easiest target — the Alferos.

  They were powerful — but they’d never recovered.

  After going down a maze like hallway with doors on both sides, I finally found the bathroom and was just about to knock on the door when it swung open.

  A girl about the age of eighteen let out a little gasp. “You.”

  “Me?” I frowned. “I’m sorry, I don’t believe we know each other.”

  As if horrified, she took a step back then placed her hands against her cheeks, it did nothing to hide the red tinging the outer corners of her sharp cheekbones. On second thought, she looked older than eighteen.

  And then it hit me.

  It was my turn to take a step backward.

  “Valentina,” I whispered her name as fresh pain sliced through my entire body causing every single muscle to tense with anxiety. “You’re Valentina.”

  The one that was meant for me.

  The girl who, months ago, I would have married, had it not been for Andi. Not that Valentina was even aware of her father’s matchmaking. But that was what the mafia was built on, power, power, and more power.

  She looked different than the pictures.

  Older.

  Andi’s words haunted me. “You’ll love her, Sergio.” I tensed even more, my fingers digging into the door frame. “She needs you… needs you to push her. She loves reading.” Andi’s voice died in my head.

  Just like in real life.

  And I was struck with such resentment that the only reaction I was capable of… was anger. “Are you going to move?”

  Valentina jumped a bit, her hands clasping in front of her as if she was afraid to touch me. Then, with a slow nod, she moved out of the way. It wasn’t until she left that I was able to breathe again.

  But when I did.

  I really wish I hadn’t.

  She smelled…

  Exactly like Andi.

  Jack shall have Jill;

  Nought shall go ill:

  The man shall have his mare again, and all shall be well. —A Midsummer Night’s Dream

  Valentina

  TEARS OF EMBARRASSMENT stung the back of my eyelids, making it impossible to see straight as I ran away from one of the most dangerous and sexy men I’d ever encountered in my life.

  He’d been perfect.

  Until he opened his mouth and basically demanded I move.

  I’d never actually been spoken to that way before. Did that make me soft? Or maybe just stupid. Maybe I was so ridiculously sheltered that I couldn’t go to the bank by myself, and I stared at complete strangers with such rapture that I basically blocked them from being able to take care of a basic human function.

  Ugh… more embarrassment came as I cringed and slowly unclenched my hands. My nails had made actual imprints into my palms.

  He was just a guy.

  A really good looking guy. So gorgeous that, when he made his entrance into the party, I’d nearly stumbled backward into the dessert table.

  He came in with the same man from the bar.

  Both of them were of the same transfixing beauty. One was older, rougher, while the other was probably in his late twenties, with haunting dark circles beneath his eyes and a strong jaw. I couldn’t even comprehend how a man could appear so beautiful yet so masculine at the same time.

  Full lips had pressed into a hard stare as he silently dared anyone to say something to him. And he didn’t march into the room, he seemed to glide, as if he owned the entire house, as if the house was no longer a house but a castle and us his servants.

  Had someone bowed I would have thought he really was royalty.

  It was unfortunate he was so rude.

  Then again, I had been blocking the way. Oh no! I stomped my foot. Had he been talking to me that whole time and had I done the whole stare off into space thing that I often did when Dante talked to me? Bad enough that I’d escaped to the bathroom to add more perfume, perfume one of my best friends had gifted me with before basically disappearing out of my life forever. That’s so not what I needed to be fixating on.

  “Shoot,” I grumbled then started basically tearing off my thumbnail with my teeth.

  “Bella,” Nico said in a heavily accented voice. It was the first time that night I’d actually heard him before I smelled him, so either he’d showered or I was becoming immune to his scent. A shudder rippled through me. That couldn’t be a good sign. The last thing I needed was to be used to his musk. “You look so stressed! You should be celebrating with me!” He let out a low chuckle then, kid you not, licked his forefinger and thumb and patted down his own eyebrows.

  Was he for real?

  His suit was black velvet; he wore a red tie.

  I wanted to strangle him with it.

  He was the reason I had been hiding in the bathroom in the first place. I’d seen the two men enter, and he was as transfixed as everyone else, so I’d quickly bolted as fast as I could to the nearest bathroom, only to remember, as I was halfway out the window, that my uncles would be sorely disappointed in my behavior, even if all of this was really their fault. Then my eyes had fallen to the perfume, and a hair tie, the rest was history.

  “Nico,” I said his name curtly, like I was ready to give him the speech, when all of a sudden he looked behind him, then backed me up into the corner and tried to kiss me.

  I wasn’t tall, not by any means, so when I shoved him, it only made him chuckle and try to kiss me again.

  Wanting to puke, I tried turning my head as his lips landed on my neck.

  “I knew you would be so soft.” He licked me. The bastard licked me!

  I was just getting ready to knee him in the balls as a total last resort when I heard a throat clear.

  Nico backed away.

  And the same guy, who I’d just embarrassed myself in front of, took a step forward.

  “I don’t think she wants you to kiss her,” the man said in a very calm, yet coolly detached voice that had me wondering if he even had a heart in that chest or just a soulless box that collected dust.

  “But she does,” Nico argued.

  “She doesn’t,” I argued right back. “You were hurting me, and I don’t even know you!”

  “We are to marry!” he announced loudly.

  “Oh, dear God, save me,” I moaned. “What’s my middle name?”

  Nico appeared perplexed. “We do not need to know such things to make babies.”

  “Joyce,” the man next to me whispered. “It’s Joyce.”

  “Who are you again?” Nico demanded to know as he puffed up his chest, it only made him look more stupid, if that was even possible.

  The gorgeous man smirked. That was the only flash of amusement I saw before he put an arm around my body and said in a completely lucid voice. “I’m her fiancé.”

  I nearly choked on my tongue as Nico sputtered and thumped his chest. “I am her fiancé!”

  Something flashed in the guy’s eyes as he reached for Nico’s jacket and, literally, lifted him two feet off the ground then slammed him into the nearest wall, a few pictures crashed against the floor, glass went everywhere. “And now, you’re leaving. Touch her again, and I’ll reach into your weaselly little chest and pluck out your ribs. One… by…one.”

  When Nico was released, he tugged on his jacket and pretended he didn’t look frightened. “We’ll see about that.”

  He marched off.

  Leaving me with a clearly angry and slightly insane stranger. Didn’t matter if he was gorgeous, he’d just claimed me as his fiancée, and he knew my middle name.

  “Hah, know my social security number too?” I joked out lou
d to break the tension.

  He didn’t even flinch when he said. “Why? Did you forget it?”

  I laughed nervously and backed away. “I get it. You have one of those dry senses of humor or something like that?”

  Still. Nothing. Though his lips did twitch a bit.

  “A man of many words.”

  This time he let out a low chuckle. “I’m more of an action kinda guy.”

  No, he was more like perfect.

  To look at that is.

  Not one flaw.

  Not even a scar.

  Nothing.

  How was that even possible? Especially if he was as violent as he appeared to be.

  The letter I’d just read drifted into my consciousness, what were the odds?

  “So.” Suddenly chilled, maybe from the shock of all the violence, I rubbed my arms. “Thanks for the save. I guess I’ll get a broom so I can clean up all the glass.”

  “I’ll do it,” he said, swiftly walking by me. Then he paused, his shoulders tense. “Stay here.”

  I wasn’t stupid enough to argue. He had just lifted a guy into the air like he was a toothpick.

  When he returned he quickly swept up the glass into the dustpan, and then went back toward the bathroom, I’m guessing to dump the contents.

  “Sorry about the pictures.” He lifted the worst of the two and frowned as another picture fell to the ground, one that had been behind the main picture.

  “Hmm, that’s weird.” I bent down and picked it up and stared into the face of a vaguely familiar man. He was holding two small infants and smiling.

  Memories flickered as if someone had turned on a movie, but before I could conjure up anything, the man ripped the picture out of my hand.

  “Hey!” I reached for them.

  He shook his head. “Your uncles will want to re-frame them. We have no idea how old they are. Imagine what a shame it would be if they were ruined.”

  I guessed he was right, but still, how important could it be if it was hidden?

  “Some of the most important treasures are ones we haven’t yet discovered,” he said in a whisper.

  “So.” Something about him was definitely off. “Who are you?”

  This time he did smile. “Your fiancé.”

  I laughed. “No, seriously.”

  He tilted his head as his eyes slowly inspected me from head to toe. “You’re extremely young.”