Donati Bloodlines: The Complete Trilogy

by Bethany-Kris

  Why was he in there?

  “Maybe lay off the bourbon next time,” Emma managed to say.

  She went back to her work at the mirror, covering the bruises of her husband’s fingerprints under her jaw with a green tinted concealer that would neutralize the redness. There was nothing she could do about the fingerprints on the insides of her thighs except to make sure her dresses were long enough that they wouldn’t ride up to expose the marks.

  Affonso watched her work in silence.

  By the time she was reaching for the rows of lipsticks, Affonso had moved to stand directly behind her. She made a grab for the pink tube, the one Affonso liked, and switched to the fire-engine red that she preferred.

  Affonso sighed behind her.

  Emma didn’t pay him any mind as she went to work on the task of painting her lips with carefully done strokes.

  “Do you want something?” Emma finally asked when she put the tube back.

  “I’d like for you to wash that red off before we go to church.”

  “I think you can manage to look at it for one day.”

  Affonso’s gaze narrowed. “I can force you to take it off.”

  “Seems you can force a lot of things when you want to.”

  Emma wished she could take the words back the very second they left her mouth, but they were out there. She watched her husband’s face turn from a mask of apathy to anger in a blink. Then, he was back to stone again.

  Blank like paper.

  “I wouldn’t quite call it forcing anything when it’s my wife,” Affonso noted.

  “The law believes differently.”

  Affonso barked out a short laugh. “Sweetheart, in my world, I am the law.”

  She knew that, too.

  He was the judge, jury, and executioner of his family.

  Of her.

  No one else got a say.

  Emma pushed back the simmering anxiety. “If you want to hold a woman down and fuck her like an animal, you have whores for that, Affonso. Don’t use me for the same thing.”

  “You’re angry.”

  “Did you think I’d be happy about what happened?”

  “It didn’t happen at all,” Affonso said. “I was not so drunk that I don’t remember the bulk of it, Emma.”

  “Almost is close enough.”

  Too close.

  Affonso clenched his jaw tight, his gaze hardening. “What do you want from me?”

  “I want you to leave me alone. I can’t give you want you want. You’ve made that perfectly clear to me. Just leave me alone. I’ll do whatever else you want; I’ll go out when you tell me to, and pretend like I give a fuck about all of this. But leave me alone, Affonso.”

  He crossed his arms, regarding her in that way of his that said he was weighing his options. She hated the fact that that was all she was to him. Just an option.

  An afterthought.

  Had he been a different man, this might have been different.

  Their marriage could have been different.

  Something …

  Instead, they were who they were.

  And Emma hated him.

  “You’ve left me with nothing,” Affonso told her. “I had nothing before you, donna.”

  She hated how he called her woman with such venom spewing with his Italian language. Like being a woman was unworthy and not good enough.

  “Is this about children again?” she asked.

  “That’s all this ever was.”

  “You have children.”

  “I wanted—”

  “I know what you wanted,” she interrupted angrily. “And I can’t help that my body doesn’t work the way you want it to, Affonso. You’re not God. I’m not God. I can’t make my body do what it can’t do, okay.”

  “I’m aware.” Affonso leaned against the wall, never taking his eyes off her. “As I was saying, before you I had nothing. Two daughters to marry off and make my famiglia stronger. Bastards that are useless.”

  “No boys,” Emma finished for him. “I already know this.”

  “Well, not one that will do what I want for him to do, anyway.”

  Emma stilled, watching Affonso’s reflection in the mirror.

  She couldn’t help but remember his words from the night before. When he looked down at her and called her another woman’s name—Calisto’s mother. How Affonso claimed he had apologized. She remembered Ray asking Affonso where Calisto had gotten his attitude and behavior from. From his father, of course.

  Emma felt stupid.

  All the pieces that had been scattered about in passing conversations, missed looks, vague statements, and the bad blood all around. The focal point of her memories drove straight back to the day after a night she wished would erase from her memories. After she had lost her second child.

  “Calisto.”

  “Don’t touch me, zio.”

  “Tu sei il primo.”

  “Mai.”

  You’re the first, Affonso had told Calisto outside of her hospital room. His first boy, he meant.

  Never.

  Calisto hadn’t denied it, he simply refused it.

  Never.

  Had Calisto been the result of an affair between Camilla Donati and Affonso, or something worse?

  “When were you going to tell me?” Emma asked.

  Affonso cocked a brow. “Tell me what?”

  “That you have a son, but he hates you so much. Why does he hate you, Affonso?”

  He pushed off the wall, glancing away. “Hurry up.”

  “Won’t you answer me?”

  “I have no son.”

  He was lying. He wouldn’t look at her.

  “Calisto is—”

  “Do not even think about the words you want to say,” Affonso hissed, turning back on Emma with a glare that silenced her.

  Panic welled in her throat, thumping right along with the beats of her heart.

  What was he hiding?

  “Okay,” Emma whispered.

  “You did a good job at covering those bruises. Learn to keep your thoughts to yourself, or you’ll find yourself covering more. I hope I’ve made myself clear.”

  Jesus.

  “Yes, Affonso.”

  He looked her over once more. “I’ll give you what you want.”

  To leave her alone …

  “Will you?” she asked.

  Affonso shrugged. “You can’t give me what I want, after all. What would be the point?”

  Emma didn’t bother to respond.

  He was right.

  Before Emma knew it, Thanksgiving rolled around. Thankfully, there wasn’t any snow on the ground, but it was only a matter of time. They were calling for a cold, windy, and snowy Winter in New York.

  She missed the dryness of Nevada.

  Somehow, Emma had managed to do what Affonso wanted for his Thanksgiving dinner and party. The invitations went out on time. The decorations gave the Donati home a more festive appearance. Music was provided. Catering showed up on time.

  Emma put her mask on and stood at her husband’s side.

  But she was jealous.

  It was eating her alive.

  Why?

  The reason was across the room in a shimmering silver number that hugged every young curve she sported. Her legs looked to be a mile long in the matching silver pumps. She had brown hair—highlighted with red tones—that fell down her back. Her dark eyes surveyed the room, passing over the people without a second thought.

  She was beautiful.

  Probably younger than Emma.

  Calisto had brought a date.

  Calisto

  “You’re doing great,” Calisto said in the ear of his companion.

  Kelsey twisted the silver bangles on her wrist, refusing to look Calisto in the eye. “You think so?”

  “I know so.”

  “I don’t fit in here, Cal. I don’t fit in with these people.”

  “None of us do,” he muttered. “We’re all just playing make believe
.”

  Kelsey smiled before a tiny giggle escaped. At nineteen, almost twenty, she was a force to be reckoned with. Calisto had made sure of that as soon as he knew she existed. Her mother had been a dirt-poor waitress that came from a shitty neighborhood.

  The girl would have gone nowhere.

  Her father hadn’t given her a second thought.

  So, Calisto stepped up. He made sure she got an education, and then furthered it. He got her out of that crappy neighborhood and put her somewhere where she could excel. She deserved more than being someone’s forgotten thing.

  Kelsey was Affonso’s oldest daughter. Another child the man had created with a woman he used for a time and then discarded.

  Calisto couldn’t forget about Affonso’s children like the man did. They weren’t things to be made and then tossed away like forgotten toys. He knew that had any of them been boys, they would have been given a much better life.

  But they were girls.

  Worthless to a man who favored what he could use.

  “Are you feeling up to introductions?” Calisto asked.

  Kelsey shrugged. “I guess.”

  “You’ll do fine. Smile.”

  “He doesn’t even know me, Cal.”

  “You wanted to know who he is,” Calisto replied quietly. “This was a good time, huh?”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “Then let’s go.”

  Kelsey didn’t argue as Calisto led her across the large room. People stared, watching them together and probably whispering. None of them knew who Kelsey was, and even Affonso probably wouldn’t recognize the girl. She had been three the last time he saw his oldest daughter, as far as Calisto understood it.

  The people of the Donati famiglia likely thought she was Calisto’s date. He hadn’t corrected anyone when they asked. He just didn’t answer them. He brought Kelsey along to the dinner and party for her own benefit, and nothing more. She wanted to see her father—she wanted to know who he was, beyond the headlines and the rumors.

  Calisto’s words weren’t enough.

  He understood her curiosity.

  Sometimes, a person couldn’t be warned.

  “Zio,” Calisto greeted politely, coming up behind Affonso.

  Affonso turned around fast, bringing Emma with him. His gaze landed on the young woman at Calisto’s side, and Kelsey’s hand wrapped around his arm.

  “Cal,” Affonso greeted, never taking his eyes off the young woman. “Who did you bring tonight? I didn’t know you were seeing someone.”

  Calisto passed Emma a look. She was a mask of cool, calm composure, but something bright was burning in her eyes. It stung when she turned it on him. It felt as hot as the red of her dress.

  She was pissed.

  So angry.

  Calisto didn’t have the time to pick it apart. “This is … a friend, zio.”

  Affonso laughed. “A friend with no name?”

  Kelsey’s hand tightened on Calisto’s arm, but she stayed quiet.

  “Kelsey,” Calisto said. “Her name is Kelsey.”

  Calisto wasn’t even surprised to see Affonso’s lack of reaction. He didn’t recognize the name, or some of his own features staring back at him from Kelsey’s face. She had her mother’s eyes, but the sharp cheekbones of her father, and a smaller nose.

  “She wanted to meet you,” Calisto said. “I thought tonight would be a good time.”

  Affonso smiled at his daughter, still unknowing. “Why was that?”

  “Just because.”

  Because if Affonso figured out who the girl was, he was less likely to cause a fuss in front of all his people. He wouldn’t make issues or shame Kelsey like he had done to his other daughters and their mothers when they tried to be near him.

  Kelsey tugged on Calisto’s jacket and said, “Cal?”

  “Mmm?”

  “I’m good.”

  Calisto gave his confused uncle a smile. “I’ll be around if you need me, zio.”

  Affonso waved a hand high. “Sure.”

  Emma’s gaze still burned, but she had yet to say a word.

  Turning their backs to Affonso and Emma, Calisto bought Kelsey closer to his side.

  “And?” he asked.

  “You were right.”

  Calisto sighed. “Yeah, I usually am.”

  “It wasn’t worth it.”

  “At least you know now. It took me years to figure it out, and by then, I was already trapped.”

  Kelsey didn’t ask what Calisto meant.

  He was grateful.

  “You’re irritated tonight,” Calisto heard a familiar voice say from up the stairwell.

  Ray.

  “My wife,” came the reply.

  Affonso.

  Confused, Calisto quietly and carefully rounded the stairs. During events at the Donati home, the guests weren’t permitted to explore. Certain people would be overlooked if Affonso offered them a drink in private, but the Donati Don rarely left his guests unattended.

  It wasn’t like Affonso to leave the party.

  After sending Kelsey back to her apartment with a driver, Calisto had wandered around the party and milled with some of the guests. He’d fielded questions about the mysterious girl he brought along as his date with a charming smile and nothing more.

  He didn’t want people to know who Kelsey was. That was by her choice.

  She didn’t need to be a part of their world. She was an innocent bystander.

  Nothing more.

  “Isn’t it always the woman?” Ray asked.

  Affonso chuckled dryly. “I think so, with their demands and needs. Drives me insane.”

  Calisto stopped halfway up the stairs. He’d tried to keep an eye on Emma all night, just to make sure she was okay. The woman could wear a mask like nobody knew, but he could see right through it. She played her part well, but underneath her false smile was her unhappiness.

  He’d been too busy over the last couple of weeks to visit.

  It bothered him that Affonso was complaining about Emma, for whatever reason he had complaints.

  What had happened?

  “She’s as cold as ice, I swear,” Affonso growled. “I can’t get more than two words out of her without her barking at me. Give me your drink, would you?”

  “Yeah, here,” Ray replied. “Is this about your wife, or something else?”

  “You’re going to have to be more specific, Ray.”

  “You’re more irritated than normal lately. I couldn’t help but notice Calisto shows up with a woman at his side, and you get even more ruffled at the collar.”

  “Was she Italian, I wonder?”

  “Could have been,” Ray said.

  “She needs to be Italian for him.”

  Calisto ignored the swell of annoyance flooding his veins. The only reason Affonso would want him with an Italian was for heritage sake. Cosa Nostra would not accept boys into the fold who were not half Italian from their father’s side.

  But it didn’t make a difference.

  Calisto didn’t want his children in this life. He had no plans to continue furthering his own career beyond what it was in la famiglia. He didn’t need the heir his uncle wanted.

  “I want information on that girl,” Affonso said, bringing Calisto out of his thoughts. “Find out who she is and where she comes from.”

  You’ll be terribly surprised, Calisto thought wirily.

  “You know,” Ray started to say, “You could always force Calisto’s hand into the boss’s seat, Affonso.”

  Calisto turned into a statue on the stairs, hard in his heart and heavy in his limbs.

  “I could,” Affonso echoed.

  “No one in la famiglia would turn him down as a boss. Once given it, he wouldn’t have a choice.”

  “We rarely take it because we want it. It’s almost always given to us or forced on us. It wouldn’t be any different, I suppose.”

  “He couldn’t refuse,” Ray added. “Not if he wanted to live. You’ve done this t
he nice way with him. Play a little dirty with him, instead, and see where it gets you.”

  Calisto’s fingernails bit into his palms when he squeezed his fists into tight balls.

  “I don’t really have a choice,” Affonso murmured. “He’s the only boy I have—I made him, he’s mine regardless of what he believes. I molded him for this, Ray. He was always meant for this, I made sure of it. He won’t do it willingly, I tried.”

  No, Affonso lied.

  Over and over.

  For years.

  Affonso had pretended to be someone he wasn’t to Calisto. He’d hid secrets for years, and forced the one person who meant the most to Calisto into a corner, taking from her what wasn’t his to have.

  Calisto despised this man.

  His biological father—it made Calisto sick.

  “He doesn’t have to do it willingly, Affonso,” Ray said. “Consider it.”

  “I am. Emma was my last shot at getting another boy. I have no other options.”

  Calisto turned on his heel and took the stairs two at a time.

  Affonso wouldn’t push Calisto into taking the boss’s seat. There was nothing the man could do that would make him give up his hatred enough to give Affonso what he wanted. Not after everything Affonso had done to Calisto and his mother.

  He would never call Affonso his father.

  He would not be Affonso’s heir.

  His blood didn’t matter.

  It never had.

  Calisto glanced over his shoulder, feeling like someone was watching him. Sure enough, he found Emma’s intense jasmine gaze zoning in on his back with enough rage to level him to the ground.

  He was just shrugging on his coat to leave, but her one look stopped him. The house had felt like it was suffocating him for most of the evening, but after overhearing Affonso and Ray’s conversation, it became even more unbearable.

  Calisto wanted to leave. He’d always hung his jacket at the back end of the house where no one could go through it. He didn’t trust a damn soul.

  Emma’s silent stare from down the hallway said he couldn’t leave.

  He put his jacket on the rest of the way. Emma tipped her head to the side, gesturing at a room he knew to be a bathroom.

  Calisto waited until she had disappeared into the bathroom, closed the door, and then he followed a few seconds later when he was sure no one would see. Locking the door behind him, he turned around and Emma’s finger hit him square in the chest.