Mafia Secret

by Angie Derek

He glanced at her before starting down the stairs. "It's best if you keep a low profile."

  Trailing behind him, she contemplated his answer. "Low profile, as in hide in my room for the week I'm here?"

  His roving gaze focused on her again as they reached the second floor landing. It was just as quiet as the third floor. He stopped and turned to her. "You can come and go around the house and most of the grounds as you wish. I'd recommend an escort." Lessa raised an eyebrow, and he continued despite her expression. "Lucia and Tony were the most upset by your arrival. It'd be wise to avoid any unplanned meetings. More easily accomplished if I or Nina, Jio's wife, are with you. You remember Nina, she was sitting next to Jio at the reading."

  And from the visit in her room, but she didn't mention that. "I can see your point." She didn't relish the idea of having a confrontation with either Tony or Lucia. A hint of sadness worked its way up her chest. She hadn't asked for any of this, and she didn't enjoy being the cause of so much pain and anger. "Where is everyone?"

  "Dinner." He looked down both hallways. "The family usually gathers for dinner in the evening. This is the first one since Jiovanni . . ."

  She bit her lip. The family was having dinner without her. She told herself not to be surprised by the exclusion, but the small bit of sadness morphed into hurt.

  He frowned. "I'm the one who vetoed you from dinner, not them."

  "Why?"

  "The same reason for why it wouldn't be wise to wander around the house unescorted. This is also an excellent time for an uninterrupted tour. Come on."

  She hadn't realized she'd been gripping the banister and not stepping down onto the second floor landing until he reached for her hand and tugged her after him. He smiled reassuringly, gesturing with his other hand to the door closest to them.

  "Clarissa's room, past her is Edoardo, Tony across from him, Jio's two eldest are across from Clarissa." He pivoted to face the other wing, she followed. "The farthest room on the right is Lucia's, across the hall was Jiovanni's. Nina is next to Lucia. I believe her youngest still sleeps with her. Jio has the room across from her."

  Lessa tried to keep her surprise at the separate rooms for the married couples to herself. She wasn't sure if she was successful since Marc seemed to be fighting a smile.

  "Onward." He led her back to the stairs and dropped her hand as they descended to the first floor. "Front door."

  Rolling her eyes at his obviousness, she caught his full smile before he gestured to the other rooms.

  "Front sitting room is the first door on the right. That's where Jiovanni is right now."

  She glanced at the door, noticed it was ajar and felt a sudden chill. Lessa rubbed her arms. She hadn't realized his body was in the house for the Vigil. Marc didn't ask her if she wanted to see her father, and she wondered if Lucia was there. A guilty twinge of relief kept her silent.

  "The room at the foot of the stairs is the dining room." The door was closed. "Across the hall is the library which connects to the office, where the reading was." He stepped down into the great hall, and Lessa reluctantly followed him toward the back of the house. "Left is the kitchen. Virginia's rooms are next to it." He stopped at the single open door. "Game room opens up to the sun room which faces the pool."

  She noticed the giant screen TV in one corner and a pool table before he tugged her on to the sun room at the end of the hall. She hesitated again, but he was already opening the French door out to the picturesque patio surrounding the glistening pool.

  "Pool." Motion sensor lights flicked on around them as he stepped out.

  "Really?"

  His lips curved again. "Pool house."

  The smaller building was probably about the size of the house she'd grown up in and was cast in shadow away from the lights where they stood.

  "Lessa, we need to set up some ground rules."

  She pulled her gaze from the pool house to his now serious expression. "I thought we already had. Wasn't the lecture about me staying where you put me ground rules?"

  "If you would, we could leave it at that, but Jio asked me to help you navigate the waters."

  Her own lips curved at the nautical term. "Treacherous are they?"

  His expression remained serious. "Personally, I'd rather you be kept in the dark, but I've been overruled by your brother."

  Narrowing her eyes, she crossed her arms in defense.

  "Don't get all offended on me now." He broke off as if choosing what he was going to say. "You're smart, and it won't take you long to realize this family takes security very seriously. It isn't a whim or an idiosyncrasy, but a necessity. I already told you that Jiovanni has powerful enemies. What I didn't say is that some of these enemies don't always play fair and wouldn't hesitate to use a family member against Jiovanni . . . Jio now. You need to be cautious about who you speak with, and you're not to leave the estate without me by your side."

  "You already hinted as much earlier," Lessa reminded him, not liking where the discussion was going. He was frightening her, and the fact that she thought he intended to do so frightened her more than what he was actually saying.

  "Your family is involved in certain transactions which require everyone to be cautious with both what they say and where they go. Things are precarious right now." He frowned, looking down at the ground before facing the uncertainty in her eyes again. "I can't expect you to sit in your room all of the time, but things would be smoother if you stayed with Nina or me when I'm here. Certain conversations and people should be avoided. You're family, but you're also an outsider. It's best for everyone if you remain an outsider."

  "You realize you don't understand the meaning of the word specific, don't you?" Lessa lashed out against the hurt and confusion his words caused. Why had he even bothered bringing her here if it was better for everyone if she hadn't come?

  Marc sighed and moved closer. She took an automatic step back and nearly tripped over a lounge chair. He caught her arm, keeping her from landing on her butt.

  "Jio would fire me if he saw what a mess I'm making of this," he said with a rueful smile, pulling her away from the chair and closer to him. He dropped his hand. "I honestly have no idea what you need to know and what would be best kept from you. Teaching a newbie the ropes isn't in my job description. How about you tell me what you want to know, and I'll promise to answer your questions as truthfully as I'm able."

  "You think I should go home."

  He shook his head. "No, you see why I'd be fired. Telling you to go home is the farthest from what I'm trying to tell you. I just want you to be careful and to do as I say."

  She pushed the smile down that wanted to emerge. "What if I don't do what you say?"

  "I won't answer your questions."

  "And if I don't have any questions?"

  He raised an eyebrow. "I'd say you were lying. Look, I want you to get to know your family, your father, but I also need to keep you safe."

  A shadow moved on the edge of the pool. Lessa had barely registered it before Marc was moving. He spun, shoving her behind him and pulling a gun in one smooth motion.

  "Sorry!" A voice squeaked.

  "Shit, Brady, get over here." Marc lowered his gun, holding it down beside his leg.

  Lessa dragged her gaze from Marc's weapon to the kid who stepped into the light. He couldn't be more than eighteen.

  Marc shifted so he could look at both Lessa and Brady. "This is Brady Williams, one of several guards who patrols the grounds. Another reason it's better not to just take a stroll on your own." He shoved his gun back into the holster in the small of his back.

  "Sorry, Marco." Lessa stared in shock at the large black gun Brady held in both hands. It was pointed away from them and toward the pool. "I heard voices and was just checking."

  "Don't worry about it. I was giving a guest a tour of the house." Marc waited until Brady had melted back into the shadows, past the pool, before focusing exclusively on Lessa. "I suppose I couldn't have asked for a better demonstration. Come on."


  She trailed behind him as he led the way back into the house, her gaze locked on where his gun was hidden. Now that she knew it was there she could clearly see the bulge outlined under his jacket. Once back inside the house, he shut the door behind her.

  "Go ahead and ask," Marc prompted as he kept her walking down the dark hallway.

  "You're wearing a gun."

  "Always."

  She stopped. "What about when you approached me at my house?"

  "Upstairs," Marc said, his head cocked.

  She could hear it too, the voices of her family. But she couldn't see them. The door to the dining room was now open and the voices drifted out. She didn't need any further urging to hurry down the hallway and jog up the stairs. Marc didn't speak until he had her safely enclosed in her room.

  "Well?" Lessa asked. "Were you carrying a gun in Florida?"

  "It was in the glove compartment of my car." He walked the perimeter of the room as if inspecting it.

  Her dinner tray had been removed, and a makeshift bed was made on the couch. The bed's magical appearance threw her off. She stared at it.

  Marc moved up behind her, his hands falling lightly on her shoulders. "I think it's time for the long lost princess to get her beauty sleep," he said softly, urging her toward the bedroom.

  She wanted to protest, but her brain was suddenly nonfunctional, and she needed to be at her best before she asked him any more questions.

  "Tomorrow is soon enough," he said as if reading her mind. "I'll see you in the morning."

  He shut the connecting door with a thunk. She closed her eyes a moment and the exhaustion slammed into her so forcefully she wavered on her feet. Forcing herself forward, she made it to the bed, but not under the covers before sleep claimed her.

  Lessa checked her hair in the bathroom mirror for the fifth time in preparation for Jiovanni's funeral. Marc had disappeared nearly an hour before with orders to wait here for him, but she was having a hard time waiting patiently. She'd crashed hard last night and had woken up to breakfast being served and Marc's bed on the couch gone. But he'd been there until his phone had sent him on some errand.

  She puffed out her cheeks and frowned at herself in the mirror. She hated black. Never wore it. This dress was the only black clothing she owned. She'd bought it at the urging of one of her teammates a couple of years before under the theory that every woman needed a black dress. Unfortunately, she'd never gotten around to actually trying it on. It didn't quite fit. The cut was supposed to be simple. It looked like she was wearing a bag.

  Stepping out of the bathroom, she jumped in surprise at Marc leaning in the doorway between the living room and bedroom. This was becoming an unwelcome habit of his. He really needed to make more noise when he moved. She was about to protest when she noticed his remote mask was back in place.

  Lessa cocked her head. "Everything all right?"

  "You ready?"

  She tugged at the three-quarter length sleeves, but gave up in disgust. Who was she trying to impress anyway? "Ready as I'll ever be."

  Picking her purse up off the bed, she followed him out. Her stomach fluttered and her nerves jumped at the thought of where she was going. In the short time she'd known Marc, she'd counted on him to keep her feelings at a manageable level, but he was now distracted by whatever was upsetting him and wasn't inclined to share the information with her.

  The house was quiet as they walked through the front door.

  "Everyone's left?" Lessa asked.

  He opened the back door of a large black sedan and leaned against the open door. "About an hour ago."

  She stopped halfway across the leather seat in surprise. He bumped her as he climbed in, and she scooted the last foot over. "That long? I didn't realize."

  He was silent a moment. His gaze fixed on the window before he finally turned to her. "They needed to make sure everything was ready. Ever been to a Catholic funeral?"

  She shook her head. His terseness was making her nerves worse and she had to blink to push unexpected tears back.

  "We're going to a Requiem Mass at the family's church. No one gets up and talks except for the priest. After the Mass, we'll go to the cemetery. There'll be several important people there paying their respects. Some of them will come to the house afterward. I," he hesitated, "I want to keep you under the radar as much as possible."

  She raised her eyebrows at the intrigue, almost relieved to have something else to occupy her thoughts. "How do you propose to do that?"

  "Just try not to attract any attention."

  She laughed. In this dress she highly doubted anyone would notice her. "Then I don't think you need to worry."

  Marc looked as if he was going to disagree, then shook his head. "Just do what I say."

  "When haven't I?"

  He slouched in his seat so he could look at her fully. "You had several family conversations without my permission."

  "Permission? I wasn't aware of any rules regarding speaking with my family."

  "You're right." He inclined his head in acknowledgement, and a small smile teased his lips.

  The car pulled into the parking lot next to an impressive Catholic church. The driver stopped at a side door.

  "It's time," Marc said. "It'll be starting in the next couple of minutes."

  "Are we late?"

  He shook his head to reassure her. It worked. He always managed to loosen the knot in her stomach. She glanced around to distract herself as he guided her up the short stairs. The parking lot was full, and she could hear the murmur of voices from inside the sanctuary.

  They joined the last of the stragglers squeezing into the room. She didn't know if she was glad or disappointed she couldn't see the front because of all the heads in front of her. He pulled her back even farther, and they sat in the last row next to a large pot overflowing with flowers.

  "Are we hidden enough?" She tried not to laugh. This wasn't the time to laugh, but his insistence on trying to keep her hidden was either hysterical or scary. She preferred hysterical.

  He looked around them with narrowed eyes. "Probably not."

  She glanced at the flowers cascading over her skirt and smiled. The priest's voice boomed out and the Mass began. Since she'd never been to a Catholic funeral before, she listened attentively at first, but found she couldn't make out what the priest was saying. So she gave up on listening and focused on observing as much as she could. Trying not to be too obvious, she glanced around the church in curiosity. The family, her family, had to be up front, but she was interested in seeing the other people attending Jiovanni's funeral.

  Finding herself the subject of several cool appraisals from those around her caught her by surprise. Wondering if she'd done some sort of faux pas, she dismissed the thought as she saw their eyes go to Marc first and then to her. They were interested in her only because she was with him. His large hand still held her arm as if afraid he'd lose her if he stopped touching her. Wasn't he expected to be in the front of the church with the family?

  Marc mumbled something under his breath, drawing her attention to his frowning face. "This wasn't a smart idea."

  "What?"

  "You're attracting too much attention."

  "They're wondering why I'm with you."

  "Let's go." He stood up.

  Those who hadn't noticed them before immediately shot looks in their direction.

  "We'd probably catch more attention leaving," Lessa whispered.

  He sat back down with a frown. "You're right. Just," he pulled at the clip fastening her hair, "hide your face."

  She released the barrette and let her hair cascade down. "Maybe you should put your jacket over my head?"

  His lips quirked for a second before resuming his frown, but he didn't respond.

  The priest called for prayer and everyone bowed their heads. The service continued in the same sober tone for almost an hour. Lessa was developing a decided crick in her neck from tilting it to keep her hair blocking her face, an
d she was getting very bored staring at her shoes.

  Finally, all of the mourners rose, signaling the end of the service. Marc hustled her out of the cathedral and out a side door. It was a short walk to the gravesite. Because Marc was a pallbearer with Jiovanni's sons, she'd been passed off to some burly guy named Silvio.

  Silvio was a man of few words, she discovered as they trailed behind the service. The few questions she'd asked him had been answered by either a "yes" or a "no."

  Giving up, she waited with him as the priest began the funeral rites over the burial site. Marc slipped away from the family and headed to the small grove of trees where she waited beside Silvio. Her escort nodded at Marc as he drew near before walking off to where the Tazio cars were lined up on the drive.

  As Lessa watched the casket being lowered into the ground, it hit her much more forcefully than in the church that her father—a man she'd never had the chance to know—was gone forever. She automatically pictured Peter and struggled with the idea of replacing his memory with Jiovanni's image. Her eyes started to burn and she took a deep breath, trying to stop the swelling of grief. It was easier being an observer than a participant. Lessa felt a sudden pang of regret that she hadn't asked to see him. Her father was about to be buried, and she had never even looked upon his face.

  Lucia sobbed hysterically as she clutched Jio. Lessa focused her energy on the widow who had just lost her husband. She seemed to have loved Jiovanni very much. It had to be difficult for her to have proof of her husband's indiscretions right in front of her.

  "Ready to go?" Marc asked, interrupting her thoughts.

  She pulled herself away from the drama around the gravesite. "Can I ask you a question?"

  "What?" His eyes narrowed as he focused on her.

  "I understand the family doesn't want me to intrude on their grief, but you seem to be taking it to the extreme. Why can't I pay my own respects?"

  "It doesn't have to do with the family's grief." He glanced over his shoulder at the scene she was watching. "Look at Clarissa."

  "Okay." She focused on her half-sister who kept her gaze on the ground and her hands clenched behind her back.