by S. M. Soto
He steps out of the office and then there’s a scuffle in the hall before a man dressed in a suit jacket is hauled in by Giovanni, his hand fisted in his collar, wrinkling his pristine suit. He throws him on the floor where the man falls like the helpless little sheep he is. He’s quick to right himself. Stumbling to his feet, as he tries to straighten his jacket and button up. Like that’s helping wipe the scared shitless look off his face.
Without acknowledging him, I flip open the file I was looking at into the early hours this morning, sifting through the contents, until I find what I need. Without looking up, I address Gio.
“Everyone else?”
“Gone. Diavolo is out with the others finishing a job and she’s safe.”
“Very good.”
Once I find exactly what I’m looking for in the file, I lift it, smirking down at the photograph.
“Senator Archibald. It’s nice to finally meet you in the flesh.” I grin up at him from my position behind the desk, my pistol aimed at him and he doesn’t even know it. The senator’s weathered face sours. Never trust a man that is as old as you are but looks as weathered as this fuck does. A life of crime and hiding behind politics will do that to you. And Richie Archibald is as corrupt as they come. It’s taken some extensive digging, but I’ve found what I needed on him, cases that have been paid off. Victims shunned, a few even killed just to keep them from talking so he can continue to have his squeaky clean reputation.
Gang raping a sixteen-year-old girl with your associates when you’re a forty-year-old man is despicable. I’ve done some questionable things in my life, but nothing ever this low. And it seems him and his colleagues have gotten away with it. In fact, Eric Rawlings, the mayor, even took part in the gang rape but do we hear the people of Chicago shunning him? Of course not. Because it’s buried along with all the evidence. Except for what is in this file.
“What the fuck am I doing here, Sabella?” His voice drips with contempt.
“Well,” I sigh, leaning back against the leather. “Your associates and Mayor Rawlings have been keeping such close tabs, finding such a profound interest in my family, that I thought I’d return the favor. Give you a chance to meet me in the flesh.”
He tries to keep his face impassive. But I see the perspiration beading along his forehead. The way his throat works a swallow. He’s nervous. Rightfully so.
You’d think the bastard would have a little more backbone after everything he’s done behind closed doors. Funding the investigation into the Sabella family. Pinning everything on my son. The people of Chicago want someone to blame for crime and the mayor and senator both figure why not place it on the family already notoriously known for their crimes. I wouldn’t mind so much if it was me in the limelight. Hell. I wouldn’t even mind if the famiglia were the ones actually committing all these crimes. But it’s not. Everything in this folder tells me I’m right. These politicians are as corrupt as ever. Wanting everyone to believe they’re kind-hearted and want the best for us all, but that’s where everyone is wrong. They want what’s best for themselves. They want the money and the power.
“I won’t be bribed,” he says, trying to keep his tone firm.
I laugh. “Bribed? Oh no, senator. I don’t bribe. That’s more of your and the mayor’s prerogative isn’t it?” His face pales and my grin widens. “You should really try to be better about hiding those skeletons in your closet. It’s much too easy for a man like me to find.”
“What the hell do you want?” he growls, taking a threatening step forward.
“What do I want?’ I lean forward, my voice dropping an octave, the anger brimming to the surface. “I want you to end this. Drop this investigation. Into my family. Into my son. You won’t like it if I have to take things further. Especially with your reelection coming up. Wouldn’t it be the worst if it got out that you and Mayor Rawlings raped a young girl? Your family would fall apart. The Republican political party. All down the drain.”
“This some liberal bullshit? This how you Dem’s are playing it now, digging deep just to win the election?”
I laugh. “You’re mistaken. I know exactly what the government is used for—to separate. To faction. To start wars when there doesn’t need to be any. I’m for neither party. I’m just here to get my money and continue running business. You can see my issue now, can’t you? You see, I can’t do any of those if you keep looking into me and my family.”
“The investigation is into your son, not you. You’re lucky I managed to slip your name out of things. All to avoid this.”
“See that’s where you fucked up, Archibald. Because now I am angry. If you keep looking into my son, you won’t like what you find and then I’ll have to kill you and that beautiful wife of yours. Hot yoga is her favorite, isn’t it? Every morning down on Clark street, right? She apparently likes to fuck the instructor too.” I tsk. “You should really try keeping a better eye on your wife.”
His face blanches. Fear skirting over his features.
My lips thin into a grim line as I watch him try to find a way out of this without getting himself for his wife killed.
“Fix it. Derail the investigation. Pin it on someone else. I don’t fucking care.” I lay my hand with the pistol on the table, keeping the barrel pointed at him. “Because if you don’t? Things are going to get ugly.”
“Mr. Sabella, please, I can’t just—”
Lifting the scotch to my lips, I nod to Gio. “Get him out of here.”
He smirks. Grasping the back of Archibald’s neck and dragging him out like I asked him to. Just before he yanks him all the way out of my office, I pin Richie with my glare. “You have forty-eight hours. I would hurry if I were you.”
I hear them scuffling all the way down the hallway. He’s likely trying to fight out of Gio’s hold. It’s futile. The man has an iron grip.
For the last time, I dart my gaze down to the information in the file, worry clawing at my chest. I know Diavolo is out, finishing the job I asked him to, but he won’t be able to get the feds off him. This much I know. It’s why I’ve made it our cardinal rule to keep them out of the way.
Because once they start sticking their nose where it doesn’t belong? People start dying. A lot of them.
Smoothing my hands down my suit, I drain the contents of the glass and stride down the hall. Past the ornate walls that feel alive with her spirit. I truly believe they are. She designed this place from top to bottom. Breathed life into it. I just merely set the ball rolling and got the project in motion. This place is Valentina’s through and through.
She always worried about me but more than that, she worried about Diavolo. Rightfully so. This life wasn’t a place you could grow one big happy family. I learned that the hard way. That’s why Sophia is such a…enigma. I’m ninety-nine percent certain my wife set her on my son’s path, so she can be in our lives.
She’s been asking about Valentina a lot lately. Magdalene and the others have told me as much. They wanted my permission to talk about her, show Sophia what she was like. The photo albums, all of it. I guess her need to find a place, find a family in the world is strong. Just like Valentina’s was.
I’m not surprised when I bypass the library and Magdalene is fussing around. Putting books back in place and gathering a stack of heavy albums. I stop, deciding to take a detour and I head inside, eyeing the contents in her arms. I already know what they are.
Photo albums.
“Matteo. I was just cleaning.”
“Salte. You can leave them.”
Magdalene nods, setting them on the table and slips out of the library. I drop down onto the chaise, opening the first one. The pictures are like a shot to the chest. The crushing pain expands, making it hard to breathe through. I run my fingers over the page, over her soft, smiling face in the photograph, hating that this is all I have left now. I thought I was going to have a lifetime with her. I didn’t even get half of that. What I did get left with was a lifetime of pain.
That
was the problem with this life. Loving anything was just asking for pain. Because at any moment it could be taken away. The men without love or children were doing it right. They didn’t have to put on a brave face. They didn’t have to do things they didn’t want to do. They just had to survive, damn whoever gets in their way. I thought Diavolo understood that. After I lost Valentina, that was the one thing I tried to instill in him—get rid of any weaknesses. For a while, I was sure he was better off, definitely smarter than I was. But then I found out about her and what he was willing to do to get her back. To keep her. It was like watching him travel down the same path. Making the same mistakes. He didn’t realize they were digging their own graves. I was proof of that.
I spent my son’s entire life becoming a villain to him. Rightfully so I guess. But sometimes you have to make sacrifices to see results. And I refused to let him be hurt by this life. I refused to lose the last piece I had left of Valentina. Even if it meant losing his love and losing him in my life. I knew he was strong enough to handle his own. To keep himself alive. I well and truly created a Devil. But even the Devil had a weakness and it seemed Sophia was his. She was slowly becoming all of ours. I’ve noticed the way our men stop and stare after her. Not with lust but…respect. Respect for the principessa. For the woman holding the heir to our empire.
She has that same way about her that Valentina did. And that’s what I’m struggling with. History. The repetition. It makes me wonder if my son will make the mistakes I did and if he does, how far will he fall?
PULLING MY HAIR UP INTO a ponytail, I waddle out of our bedroom into the hall. I’m not surprised when my brother is already there waiting.
“Getting bigger every day I see.”
I gasp, my mouth dropping open. “What the hell, Gar? You’re not supposed to tell pregnant women they’re huge!”
His eyes widen. “I didn’t say huge! I just said big. Like he’s growing. Jesus Christ.”
I scowl at the side of his head, incinerating him with my glare. The asshole actually laughs.
“Reel in the hangry, Soph. I was kidding. Hurry up, Magdalene has a surprise.”
“What’s up with all these surprises lately?” I ask.
He shrugs. “You’re the first woman who’s lived in the house since Creed’s mom, I think everyone is excited. Just go with it.”
When I walk into the kitchen, it’s just Magdalene and a blonde woman dressed impeccably in a fashionable blazer, form-fitting skirt, and sky-high heels. There’s another full spread of breakfast on the table only this time, there are different sections with not just breakfast dishes. Beside the Belgian waffles, eggs and fruit spread, there are tiers of small cake slices, cupcakes as well as platters filled with different hors d’oeuvres.
I slow my stride. Well, technically, my waddle. “What’s all this?”
Magdalene and the woman turn at the sound of my voice, both with wide grins on their faces.
“Hello,” the woman says, voice tinged with excitement. “You must be the bride-to-be. I’m Kristine Fields head designer and coordinator of Votré Events.” She thrusts her hand out and takes mine in a shaking introduction. “You’re absolutely glowing, Mommy. It’s Sophia, correct? Today, I just wanted to sit down and have you give me a rundown of colors, ideas, anything of the sort you deem important for me to know. We’ll do a bit of cake tasting for fun. Is there anything specific you and your fiancé have in mind?”
I blow out a deep breath, trying to take it all in. The woman talks like she’s auctioneering her thoughts off at me. I’m still trying to wrap my brain around all this. I had no idea Creed even hired a wedding planner.
“Uhm,” I let out a nervous laugh, looking to my brother for help. “Do you know where Creed is?”
His eyes drift above my head. “Speak of the Devil.”
Turning around, my breath catches at the sight of Creed, dressed in a crisp black suit and a white button up, the top few buttons left undone, showing off the tan expanse of his chest. I don’t think I’d ever get used to seeing him in a suit. It’s the only tell, the only time I know when he’s dealing with something for Matteo or the famiglia. I’d gotten so used to seeing him in his dark jeans and t-shirt with those black boots. It made up the dark rugged man. I can’t tell which version of him I like best. He looks just as dark and delicious now in his suit as he does without it. Our wedding planner seems to notice it too because her eyes widen at the sight of him and she stares at him far too long for my liking. Her gaze rakes him from top to bottom, settling on his strikingly handsome face, far too long for it to be normal.
Creed meets my gaze and he must see the billions of questions floating around because his lips quirk, like he’s fighting his grin. He walks straight to me, planting a firm kiss on my lips and a possessive hand on my hip. He turns to Kristine, leaving his hand out for her to shake which she takes eagerly.
“Mr. Sabella. I had no idea this…well, you weren’t what I was expecting over the phone. It’s so nice to finally meet you.” She shakes her head, darting her gaze to mine to quickly correct herself. “I mean both of you. It’s great to meet both of you.”
My lips thin. Mhmm.
Kristine claps her hands together then motions toward the dining table filled with the assortment of foods and sweets.
“Before we get to tasting samples, how about we sit down and discuss ideas?”
Creed pulls out a chair for me and sits on my left with Kristine to my right. My stomach decides to growl and both Creed and Kristine pause, looking at me.
“We can do breakfast at the same time as we discuss ideas.” She smiles.
After a plate of food is in front of me and I’ve gotten something in my system, I lean into Creed and listen a little more intently.
“So, do we have any ideas on a venue? I know your fiancé told me briefly over the phone an outdoor location is something you both wanted. Do we have any idea how many guests we’ll be inviting?”
I trip over my words, stumped. “I don’t really know how many guests we plan on having there.” I look to Creed for help. “But we were thinking somewhere outdoors. My family hasn’t ever been very religious, but I know the fam—” Garrett coughs on the other side of the table and I realize my almost slip. “—But I know Creed’s family is Catholic, so we can do a ceremony in the church first then maybe something outdoors too? With a lot of flowers.”
Kristine nods, jotting all of this information down on her iPad. “Okay. I can work with this. Do we have a church in mind?”
“St. Mary’s of the Angels,” Creed supplies and she nods, typing away.
“Mr. Sabella, do we have an estimated head count?”
“We’ll keep it small, no more than three hundred guests.”
My eyes widen and my mouth gapes open.
“Three hundred?” I whisper-hiss under my breath, glancing at him out of the corner of my eye. He smirks at my reaction.
“This is great, I already have a few venues in mind that I think will work perfectly. Now, food and refreshments during reception, what are we thinking? I brought a few samples of client favorites with me today.” Kristine starts gathering a few samples for us.
“This is a salmon caviar stuffed egg.” She slides a tray filled with the odd concoction toward us. “It’s a client favorite.”
My nose curls up. “I can’t have that right now, but if you want it…” I trail off looking to Creed for help.
“Add them to the menu, we’ll have Sophia double check after the pregnancy. Anything else?”
“Yes, next we have.” She slides two new trays toward us. “A hot crab and artichoke dip baked into a flaky crust, a tomato and basil puree spread over a thin slice of brioche. Then we have curried chicken in radicchio cups.”
Creed nods, not even bothering to taste anything. Apparently, he already knows what all this tasted like. I can’t imagine he’d agree to having disgusting food served at the wedding.
“Great.” Kristine claps her hands together, a gri
n on her face. “Let’s do some cake tasting, I’m sure your fiancée will love that.”
I hear Garrett snicker from the opposite end of the table. I shoot him a scowl, telling him without words to shut up.
Is this woman insinuating just because I’m big and pregnant all I’d want to eat is cake?
As she slides the tiered trays toward us, I can definitely see why she would make such an assumption. The cakes smell divine.
“We have a chocolate truffle, pink champagne, and lemon. If you don’t like any of these, we can go with a few other options.”
I try all of them, a moan slipping from my lips with each bite. They’re incredible. I’m positive this is the best cake I’ve ever had in my entire life. I feel Creed’s gaze on me and when I look, the smile freezes on my face. My throat grows tight and a flush coats my cheeks at the way he’s looking at me. The warmth in his gaze, the intensity with which he’s regarding me causes my belly to flip. Everything around us seems to fade away. Gone is Kristine the planner. Gone is my brother. Gone are all the wedding details. All I see is him. All I feel is his heated gaze roving over my skin, searching my face.
“You have frosting.” He reaches out with his thumb, wiping the frosting off the corner of my lips and he leans in, kissing me. I moan into his mouth and seem to get lost into his touch, the sensation of his lips on mine.
The sound of metal rapping on the front doors, travels from the foyer into the dining room. I jolt back from Creed and the indent between his brows makes my stomach drop.
“Is that…is someone knocking at the door?”
Garrett and Creed push up from the table and walk toward the foyer. I stay seated for as long as I can. Listening as the heavy, ornate carved wooden doors open and the sound of voice drift from the foyer into the dining room, but I can’t understand what they’re saying. They’re too far away—the voices too muffled from here. I glance up at Kristine and see the confusion written all over her porcelain face. She probably doesn’t realize what a strange occurrence it is to have someone rap on the front doors.