Angelica (The Family Book 1)

by Jones, Angelique

  Knowing that he’d be safe, she turned her attention to the men who were accompanying them. Her uncle’s consigliere, his underboss, and one of her cousins—Lorenzo’s oldest son, a capo. Entering what had once been her father’s office, Angie could hear the party until the door was closed. The room was soundproof, but just to be safe, she knew that guards would be posted outside to keep curious guests away. Walking to the bar, she poured herself a drink before turning back to them. “This is something we should discuss privately, Uncle,” She said when they all just stared at her.

  Instead of acknowledging her statement, Angelo said, “Where have you been all these years? We thought you died in the fire. How the hell could you let us think you were dead?” His demanded as his voice began to rise. “What about the boy? You were just a child; why wouldn’t you bring him to us to raise?” He was starting to lose control. “Your mother was only eight months pregnant and hadn’t given birth. Is she still alive too? Was the DNA match forged?”

  Staring at him, Angie kept her face empty of expression. “My mother is quite dead, Angelo, and has been since that night. I cut my brother from her stomach myself, so I know.”

  Horror crossed his face before it was sealed off, locking out all emotion, his face becoming as dead as hers. “Tell me.”

  Looking to the others. “They should leave before we speak. This is not something that concerns them or that can ever be repeated.” Looking to Lorenzo’s son, Cristiano, she added, “Should I find that anyone carried my words past this room, no matter what they hear, it would mean a very short life for them. Family or no family, it would not matter. If you are willing to risk their lives, so be it.”

  Pain flashed in Angelo’s eyes at her words as he realized that the child he had once loved was gone, replaced by a woman he didn’t know. Walking to his chair behind the desk, he sat down, looking every bit the boss he was. “I think, Niece, you had better remember who I am, and a woman’s place in the family.”

  “I remember, Angelo, but you’d better remember I have just given you fair warning.” Walking to a chair in front of the desk, Angie sat and waited as the others took seats around the room. Once they were settled, she stared into Angelo’s eyes and started her tale. Staring into his eyes, she began but had to stop ten minutes in as Cristiano yelled that she lied. Guess hearing your father was a monster after your uncle built a shrine to his goodness was a lot to take in. Turning her dead gaze to his, she told him to remain silent until she was finished. Her gaze held the killer she was as the darkness began to take hold, so what he saw had him heeding her words. Turning back to Angelo, she went on, describing in detail her mother’s rape as she watched. Stopping when the men went to the bar for drinks, she waited until they were seated again.

  On and on she went, telling them about almost everything, only leaving out her time with the Salvatici family. The party had long ended by the time she had finished, and the moon was high in the sky. The effect of her tale on the men in the room was devastating as they tried to process what she told them. Getting up, Angelo set down his drink and went out the French doors into the yard. On shaky legs, the others followed him while Angie waited, until the last left, before she rose to join them. As she approached, she saw a heavy mallet in Angelo’s hands as the others stood around him. Raising it back, he swung, smashing the stone plaque before him. Again and again, he hit it, the sound of his rage echoing in the night, bringing people from the house and property.

  Dropping the mallet into the pile of chunks of stone and rising dust, he turned to the men behind him. “We never speak of this again.” Leaving us there, he walked calmly back to his office and sealed himself within. Moving away from the men, Angie went toward the house, where Camilla stood. Stepping aside, Camilla let her into the house. She could see the questions in Camilla’s eyes, but like any good wife, she knew not to voice them. The women in this life learned very early that ignorance was bliss. That did not make them stupid; most were as crafty as their mates. Unlike her mother, most chose not to involve themselves in family business unless they had to or the family was threatened.

  “Your room is just the way you left it. I put Michael and Eva in the rooms next to yours.”

  Nodding her head in thanks, Angie turned and walked to the stairs. Before she could go up, Camilla’s voice stopped her. “I know he told you that he thought you were dead, but that’s not true. He searched for you. Year after year, he searched; he never gave up on you.” Not bothering to answer, Angelica turned and went to her tower.

  Chapter 15

  It was strange to sleep in the room of her childhood. Everything in it was foreign and familiar at the same time. She had now been among her family for three weeks, and while Eva and Michael thrived from their attention, Angie felt as if she were drowning. Aunts, uncles, cousins all came to see them, thrilled they were home. She lied to them all, telling them a story that they could understand. As to where they had been for the last ten years, as far as the family was concerned, she had lost her memory all those years ago, and that’s why she never came home. Angie knew most didn’t believe it, but they pretended to. Asking no other questions, knowing this was for the best for the family. Uncle Angelo told them in a few words that this was to be our truth.

  Her mother’s parents still lived and were demanding that they come to them. Her mother’s father was a boss and currently in a disagreement with another family, so he did not want their grandmother to travel, just in case. He was stepping aside soon and one of his sons was going to take control. At that time Angie was to go to them to visit. They wanted Michael to come also, but she refused their request. She would never risk Michael to capture or death. Until all disputes were settled or they came to them, they would not see Michael, and that was final.

  Angelo was uncomfortable around Angie. Not afraid, but destroyed, as if he could have stopped what had happened to her. She thought he felt as if he had failed the brother he loved. Every time he looks at her, he remembers what she had done. It was eating him alive, that guilt. Around Michael, though, she could actually see the joy in him. Every time Angelo looked at him, she knew he saw his brother in every look, every movement, and it eased his soul to know that a piece of his brother had survived. As far as Angelo was concerned, Michael was his son, and if any doubted it, she was sure he would make sure their funeral was beautiful. Camilla had never been able to give Angelo a son, so to her he was a gift from God, and she treated him as such, doting on him so much, Angie was afraid she would spoil him rotten. Her brother now had the perfect family: a loving mother and father, and sisters and cousins to play with. He now had everything, and she knew her mother’s last wishes had been fulfilled. Her son was home.

  Angie’s presence in this family, however, was like a dark cancer, and it was spreading. The house had been sealed to visitors. None but family were allowed to enter. It was her childhood all over again. She was the princess in a tower, forbidden to be seen by any. Already offers were coming in for her hand, those at the memorial wasting no time in spreading what they had seen. Money, alliances, and power were being thrown around like nothing in a bid to possess Helen of Troy’s daughter. Her dowry would rival the revenue of a small county, even after she placed half of everything she owned in a trust for Michael. Top that with her beauty and she was the perfect prize.

  She was going to have to speak with Angelo. Soon she would have to leave and watch Michael from a distance. Eva would remain to watch over him from here. Angie knew Eva expected to be pushed aside when they arrived, but she knew Camilla and Angelo would never do that. Knowing what Eva did, for Michael they welcomed her into their family, allowing no difference between her and any other of their daughters. Even now, Eva sat with Angie’s cousins and talked about college; the second youngest was trying to get Eva to start in the fall with her. This was healing Eva from the horrors she had suffered in her young life more than anything else. She was now part of a family that loved and wanted her; they would do what Angie could never
do and what Michael’s presence had only partially done: heal Eva so that she could have a full life with a husband and children of her own.

  Leaving her room, Angie avoided those moving around, laughing, below. Taking a side exit, she went outside. She knew that if they saw her like this their smiles would drop from their lips, even though they would try to pretend they were still there. Most of the time she could be what they expected her to be—beautiful and charming, putting everyone at ease—but now, when the darkness was high in her, she couldn’t pretend to be what they needed. Angie knew Al followed her; he was once again her shadow. He stayed in the distance at all times, as if he was afraid she would be taken. If Al knew the real Angie, he would be worried for any who tried, not for her. All that had been present that first night kept their word, not speaking a word of what she had said. They went so far as to avoid her, as if afraid she would snap and they would be next. The hardest effected by her return was Cristiano, Lorenzo’s son. That night she went to his home and spoke with him. After they were finished, Cristiano understood that he was never to tell his mother, brother, or sister the truth. As she left, he foolishly asked her what would have happened if he hadn’t agreed. Would she have killed him? Instead of answering him in words, she let her eyes tell him the truth. Once he saw, he nodded his head and turned away.

  Going to a bench, Angie sat and looked into the distance. This was her past and Michael’s future. Nothing remained for her here, while everything was here for him. “It’s beautiful here. I remember when you were little, whenever we couldn’t find you, you were here,” Angelo said as he approached.

  “I could always pretend here,” She said, keeping her eyes on the view that went on for miles as he sat next to her. “I used to sit here and think that one day I would go there”—pointing in the distance at a speck. “I would pretend that I would leave and meet new people, see new things beyond this place. That I wouldn’t be the princess in the tower anymore but free.” Keeping her gaze firmly in place, she added, “I was so excited when my father told me I would go with Mother. I couldn’t remember the last time I was allowed to leave the compound with her. He told me it was a special treat just for me. A vacation that he would join us on soon.” Stopping as the images of that long-ago day tried to take her, she pushed them back, locking them where they couldn’t hurt her. “When it first happened, I thought it was my fault for being so selfish. That my begging to leave the compound caused their deaths. But after a while I realized the truth. Their deaths were preordained the moment of my mother’s birth. Her beauty was the curse that led to it all.”

  Reaching out, he placed his hand over hers. “Angelica, you can’t really believe that.”

  Taking her free hand, she placed it over his and turned her gaze to him. “It is not about what I believe; it’s about what I know. I know Lorenzo killed my father out of jealousy. I know Enzo’s father betrayed mine to have me. I know Enzo hunted me for over ten years to possess me. I know almost every man my mother refused came to hate her and hurt her for her choice. I know there are offers for my hand, even though no eye has been set on me. I know if I married one of them I would be cursed to my mother’s fate, and any daughter born to me would be cursed to mine.” Squeezing his hand, she gentled her voice. “I know if I don’t leave, I will end up hurting the family I destroyed my soul to protect.”

  Angelo squeezed his eyes tight, but there was relief in them when he opened them that he no longer tried to hide from her. “Will we ever see you again?”

  “Birthdays, weddings, and funerals,” She joked, trying to lighten the mood. Sighing at his serious expression. “I’m not abandoning the family. I’m just distancing myself enough that they will no longer seek you out to possess me.”

  He nodding his head, understanding. What she was saying was the right thing. If she remained, they would think they needed to go through the family to possess her. By leaving she was asserting her independence, telling them that they needed to come through her. “Where will you go?”

  Turning to look out in the distance. “Away. Away so much farther than the eye can see,” She whispered. The princess was finally free of her tower.

  Chapter 16

  A little over a year later

  Angie could hear the sounds of cries before she reached the door. Rushing in, she dropped her bag and went in search of her little angel. Her little Alessandra, Alexa for short had the lungs of a trombone player, to the complete horror of her distraught nanna Joan, as she insisted on being called. Smiling at the poor woman, Angie scooped the baby out of Joan’s arms completely silencing her cries with a touch. “Are you giving poor Joan a hard time, my little angel?”

  “The little princess there has not stopped crying since you left. She’s killing me, Angie,” Joan groaned laying her head back and plopping onto the couch.

  “Did you miss your mama?” Kissing Alexa’s head, Angie let the perfect baby smell surround her. With Alexa, the darkness was silent, she was as whole as she had ever been. Setting Alexa on the carpet when she wiggled for down, Angie watched her get up and wander around. Seeing Alexa walk and fall on her little butt was about the cutest thing in the world. “Thank you for watching her for me,” Angie said as she sat down next to Joan.

  “As if I’d ever say no. No matter how much of a devil she’s being. You,” Joan pointed her finger at Angie, “are spoiling that angel rotten.” Joan smiled down in defeat when Alexa attached herself to her leg, looking up with her little angel expression Alexa that never failed to melt Joan. At under one year old, that little girl knew how to wrap everyone she met around her finger. Angie was lucky when they found Joan, or she should say when Joan adopted them, not taking no for an answer.

  Angie had been five months along when she settled in this sleepy little town. One of those picture-perfect places where everyone knows everyone from church or school functions. It was the perfect place; people from her other life would rather be dead than caught in a place like this. She remembered the first time she met Joan like it was yesterday. She was directing the workers on what was to be done to the outside of the house when Joan walked over from next store like she owned the place. After politely giving her the brush-off, Angie went inside to look at the finished product, the furniture finally delivered and in place. “So you’re one of those who goes for the more modern look,” Joan commented, walking right in and going through the rooms. “At least you have some taste with the antiques you picked.”

  More bemused that angry at the intrusion. Angie said, “I’m sorry, but the whole floral-and-mothball thing isn’t really me. Though I do enjoy the beauty of the more intricate carved woodwork you can only get from the antiques and earlier pieces.” She ran her hand over the lions on the piece in the foyer while walking toward the kitchen. “May I offer you something to drink since you seem to have made yourself at home?”

  “I was wondering when you’d ask. Your manners leave something to be desired.” Joan snorted, sitting down at the table. Making two glasses of tea, Angie placed one in front of Joan then sat in the chair opposite with hers. Taking a sip, Joan kept her sharp gaze on Angie. “So, dear, where’s the father?”

  Angie smiled as she looked at the woman. She was something else: direct, rude, and to the point. She couldn’t help but like her. “Not around.”

  “Probably for the best. Been married six times myself, from which I proceeded to have four of the most ungrateful children you can imagine. Each one of my poor excuses for a husband was only good for two things, and raising children wasn’t one of them. To tell the truth, if I had it to do over now, in this day and age, I wouldn’t have bothered with a husband. They’re only good for money and sex. I’ve got plenty of my own money, and the sex always seems better before they put a ring on it. I swear, I’ve had more fun as the mistress than the wife.” Joan snorted.

  Putting her hand over her lips, Angie tried to suppress the grin on her face. Looking at Joan’s completely disgusted expression, she laughed softly. Holding
out her hand, she introduced herself, “My name’s Angie.”

  Reaching out, Joan gripped it firmly. “I’m Joan Marie Wilkes-Montgomery, widow and divorcée extraordinaire. The scandal of Bergen County and also the richest woman in the state.”

  “Is that why you think you can get away with your directness?” Angie asked with mirth, enjoying herself for the first time in months.

  Cackling softly. “Darling, you will find when you have my type of money that no matter what you do, people will still bend over backward to make sure they can say they know you. Hell, even my ex-husbands’ wives send me invites, though they make sure to stay close to their husbands if I come,” Joan finished with a wink. Looking at Angie more closely, she added, “I can see you’re running from something. Not that you can tell by any look, but I have more of a feeling. I’m a good judge of character and I see that you’re a hard woman but a good one, so I’m going to help you. Along with my worthless children, I have six little money-grubbing grandchildren who see dollar signs when they come to visit me.” Reaching out, Joan placed a hand on my stomach. “You and this little one now have me, so I’ll be going home and arranging for you to get in with the best OB-GYN in the area, and tomorrow we’re going to go do some shopping for this little angel.” Standing up as if it was decided, Joan walked to the door, and Angie followed, strangely docile. “You need someone to take care of you and I need someone to take care of. It’ll save me from going out and marrying the next man I find. You’ll actually be doing me a favor.” Without another word, she walked out the door and across the lawn to her own home.