Emilia: Part 1 (Trassato Crime Family Book 3)

by Lisa Cardiff

  “Instead of playing this little game of footsie with the Trassatos, you should come over to the dark side with me. Be your own man.” He raised his bound hands and pointed at me, then continued talking, his tone agitated. “Kill her and let’s get outta here. I’ll tell you everything you wanna know about your dad. Isn’t that why you’re here? Or does it have something to do with Pietro’s bitch? He suspects something’s up. Heck, I even have dirt on Dominick. The guys from the old world are itching to take him down if he doesn’t keep his end of the bargain this time around. Name what you want. It’s yours for the asking.”

  My mind reeled, attempting to cobble together Frank’s words into something that made sense. Names. Places. Faces. All of them flew through my mind with lightning speed. My wayward musings came to a standstill the second my gaze cut to Sal. He whipped a black metal cylinder out of the inside of his black suit jacket, screwed it on the end of his gun, and fired. I jerked back with shock and rammed into the wall. Frank’s body slumped to the side, inky blood leaking from the center of his forehead, his eyes fixed and unblinking.

  “What’d you do that for?”

  “I was tired of listening to him.”

  “But he knew stuff about your dad and Pietro.” My high-pitched voice sounded borderline hysterical even to my own ears.

  He shrugged. “He was bluffing.”

  I blinked rapidly and my vision turned muddy. “You don’t know—”

  Tony rolled up the metal garage, the rusty metal like nails on a chalkboard. He was flanked by two beefy men I didn’t recognize carrying black duffle bags.

  Sal scrubbed a hand down his face. “Cutting it close, don’t you think?”

  “I was across town, doing shit. You know that.” Tony’s gaze cut to me. “You all right, Miss Trassato?”

  I nodded, and the motion caused my entire body to sway like a rag doll. My fingernails scraped on the wall, attempting to catch my balance.

  Oh shit.

  I didn’t feel so good. Sal was across the room lifting me up in a matter of seconds and cradling me in his arms. I burrowed my face into his chest, drinking in his unique smell, now tainted with the metallic scent of death and destruction. Somehow it still managed to be the antidote to everything swirling inside of me.

  “She’s in shock. I need to get her out of here.” Sal’s deep voice vibrated through my limp body, and I didn’t think I could open my eyes even if I wanted to. He rubbed my scalp, and I tightened my arms around his neck.

  “Yeah. Yeah, get her home.”

  “Did you reach out to Dominick?”

  “Nah, he’s got that thing goin’ on, and he’s out of commission until tomorrow morning.”

  “I’ll get in touch with Angelo, and he can handle Dominick.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  I woke up in my bedroom an unknown number of hours later, not remembering how I got there or who put me there. I rolled onto my back and rubbed my eyes. My body ached, and my head throbbed like someone had hit me with a hammer repeatedly.

  “Are you hungry?”

  Startled, I shot up in my bed. “Oh, it’s you.”

  Sal had pulled my desk chair up to the side of my bed. His legs were stretched out with his feet resting on the end of the mattress. His hair stuck out in every direction, and more than a days’ worth of stubble coated his bronzed face.

  I smiled for a second, then everything came back to me and I curled my fingers into my white sheets.

  “You were going to let him kill me,” I choked out, closing my eyes and turning away from him. He kissed me on a lark, but didn’t give a shit if I died, showing me how little he cared. “Get out of my room. Go home. I don’t need you here. I’m fine.”

  He shifted his legs off my bed and rested his elbows on his knees. “I’ll leave when Mr. Trassato returns.”

  “Ugh.” I tossed a pillow at his face, and he batted it away effortlessly. “Go away. I don’t need a babysitter. My dad leaves me here alone all the time. He knows no one would dare come near his house, much less break in.”

  “I know.”

  I scooted away from him, pulled the sheets over my body, and took a deep breath. “Please leave, Sal. I want to be alone. I don’t need anything. I promise.”

  He held up a white paper bag. “Eat first, and then we can talk about whether I’m leaving.”

  My stomach grumbled. “Is that what I think it is?”

  “Yeah.” He opened the bag, handed me a lukewarm calzone wrapped in paper, and kept one for himself. “Tony dropped us off some dinner about a half hour ago.”

  I opened the paper packaging on my lap. The smell of cheese, sausage, warm bread, and roasted red peppers filled the air. I loved this restaurant. It reminded me of my mom’s cooking, one more item on a long list of things I missed over the last five years. When she died, she took everything worthy and admirable about our life and family with her.

  My dad never laughed anymore. We never had a home cooked meal except on the rare occasion our housekeeper took mercy on us and prepared something, and we didn’t talk to each other unless it was absolutely necessary. My dad moved her piano to a guest bedroom so he didn’t have to hear me play. As a matter of fact, I had no clue why he insisted I continue taking lessons when he hadn’t attended a single one of my performances since her death.

  “How long have I been sleeping?”

  He crumpled up his wrapper and stuffed it back in the empty bag. “Not long. Maybe two hours.”

  “Hmm.” I finished off the last few bites of my food and tossed the wrapper on the floor. “All right. You got me home and fed me, and I’ve never been happier. You’ve done your duty. You can go. I don’t need your pity in the form of babysitting or kissing.”

  Mortification burned through me, clamping around my neck like an invisible hand. I swore I had cried my last tear for this man. Being around him made me a person I never wanted to be. My mom cried over my dad too many times, and I promised myself I’d never be the woman who wallowed in her miseries and rejection, yet here I was letting Sal rule my thoughts and emotions.

  “Marone.” He frowned and clutched the arms of the chair until his knuckles were white. “Pity has nothing to do with me kissing you or staying with you tonight.”

  “Look,” I flipped my hair over my shoulder, “I know you don’t want anything to do with me, and I feel the same way. I don’t know what possessed me to ask you for a kiss. It was a stupid idea. I got caught up in the celebration. I’m over it now, so there’s no need to talk about it.”

  He climbed into bed and put his arms around me. I wedged my fisted hands between us, creating a physical blockade of sorts, hoping it acted as a mental one too. It didn’t work. I melted into him despite my best intentions, feeling safe and warm for the first time since I saw a man die. My spine snapped straight at the memory of men who Sal had shot.

  “You killed those two men. What’s gonna hap—”

  His hand covered my mouth, shutting me down mid-word. I could taste the salt from the calzone on his fingers.

  “Shut the hell up,” he whispered next to my ear. “You didn’t see anything tonight. I drove you home from your piano lesson, and we ate dinner together. That’s the official story. Understood?”

  I pried his fingers from my face, my eyes wide and my heart thumping like a demon. “Do you think the police are going to come here and—”

  “No, Em, they won’t. Tony knows what he’s doing. Be a good girl and do your part and forget about it. Can you do that?”

  When I started to nod, an unwelcome sob burst from my mouth. I swallowed five or more times in a row, battling back the urge to cry, except it wouldn’t take no for an answer. My body trembled, tears crawled down my face, and my stomach swirled into knots.

  I had spent three years searching for dirt on my dad to get away from him. Now that I had solid proof I didn’t want it. I’d give anything to unsee what happened today. The ugly side of the mafia always seemed so far removed from reality when I listene
d to the whispered conversations and read the cryptic notes. Dead, lifeless eyes brought the horror of this life into sharp focus, and I wanted out more than ever.

  “Shh,” Sal rocked me from side to side, feathering kisses on my face. “It’ll be okay. You’re safe. Nothing’s going to happen to you. I’ve got you. I would have died before I let that man hurt you. What I said to him about not caring, that was all for show. It couldn’t be further from the truth.”

  “I don’t want to be part of this anymore. I hate what my dad does. I hate him. I hate this life.”

  “No, you don’t. You’re in shock right now, and those guys in that warehouse aren’t worth crying over. They’ve killed enough people to fill a bus, so look at it as a good deed. We probably saved dozens of lives today.”

  I tipped up my chin, studying his solemn face. “You think so?”

  “I know so.”

  “I don’t get it. Why were you meeting them?”

  “Like I said, Pietro wanted me to do a pick up. It was supposed to be a quick in and out. Grab an envelope and leave. Those men were there, and things went from bad to ugly real fast.”

  “Do you think someone set you up? Maybe Pietro or Tony?” I should’ve kept my mouth shut. I knew a little bit about how things worked in my dad’s world.

  Sal’s muscles tensed beneath my fingertips. “Let’s not speculate about it, okay? As much as you like to sneak around and spy on your dad, you need to keep your nose out of it. You’re gonna hear something you shouldn’t, and you’ll wind up getting hurt.”

  “Don’t you get it? That’s the whole point.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I want to hear something or know something. It’s the only way I’ll be able to get away from my father.”

  The corners of his eyes crinkled, and his lips thinned. “Are you talking about blackmailing your father?”

  I swallowed, focusing on gathering my thoughts. The best course of action would be to shut my freakin’ mouth. Sal didn’t need to know anything about my plans, and history already taught me I couldn’t trust him. He had treated me like crap since the night of my birthday party. Something deep inside of me, however, call it gut instinct or whatever, urged me to give him a chance, and that’s how I found myself spilling the truth.

  “It’s my only option. My dad has all these plans for me, and I don’t want anything to do with him or his little empire.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  I leaned against the headboard and closed my eyes for a second. “He plans to marry me off to some guy in Chicago to expand his influence. Master—”

  “Master Marcello,” Sal nodded. “Otherwise known as Marcello Masciantonio.”

  “Yeah, that’s him. I’ve overheard my dad negotiating with some men more than a few times in the last six months. I don’t want to be married to some guy in another state I don’t know.”

  Sal shifted onto the bed, his legs dangling off the edge, and his back facing me. “Hmm. I don’t know anything about that.”

  “Do you know Marcello?”

  “Not personally, no.”

  I edged closer, dropping my arms on his shoulders, curiosity making my insides buzz. I needed to know everything about the man my dad wanted me to marry. It was the only chance I had to get out of it or make Marcello hate me enough to renege on the deal.

  “What do you know about him? I’m sure you heard a few things.”

  Sal didn’t answer for a long time. Too long. His foot tapped a steady beat on the floor. The fan whirled overhead. “I should wait downstairs. Your dad won’t like it if he comes home and finds me in your room.”

  “Oh no you don’t. Not now.” I wrapped my arms around his waist, pulling his back flush with my front and buried my face in his neck. I didn’t have any illusions I could prevent him from escaping. I weighed a hundred and five pounds max. He was nearly a foot taller than me, and he had all those muscles that had the habit of making themselves known even beneath a suit. “Tell me what you know. Please. I haven’t been able to piece anything together. It’s like he’s a ghost, and it doesn’t help that I didn’t even know his real name until now.”

  Sal reached back and smoothed a hand down my back, his fingers getting lost in the tangles of my messy hair. “In all honesty, I don’t know much, other than that he has a lot of power. Some say he’s next in line to be the head of the Masciantonio Family. Some think he doesn’t have anything to do with them anymore. If I remember correctly, he’s in his twenties, maybe early thirties. I don’t know. He’s kind of a mystery.”

  I drew his woodsy scent into my lungs and rubbed my forehead against the prickle of his five o’clock shadow. “What else?”

  “He beat a rap for fraud and loan-sharking six or so years ago. I think he was a soldier even though his dad was the boss. Nobody believed he had a future because he had a hot temper. After the jury acquitted him, things changed. He developed a knack for negotiating the outfit out of sticky situations, and that earned him a lot of respect. He has a shit ton of power in Chicago, and not only in the criminal world.”

  My stomach soured, and I tightened my hold on him like he could somehow change my fate. “My dad doesn’t know, but I met him once. Or at least I think I did.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting the memory of meeting Marcello. It surfaced anyway.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Loud voices woke me up, and I crept down the stairs to make sure my dad was okay. My mom and dad had been fighting all the time. I was worried about him, especially since she had disappeared on another trip.

  When I reached the alcove outside of the study, I ducked inside to listen.

  “It’s a done deal,” barked a man’s voice I didn’t recognize, and my nerves shimmered with anxiety.

  “I’m sure there’s something I can offer you to change your mind,” my dad shot back.

  “Not interested in what you have to offer.”

  “I’ll give you forty percent.”

  “Why would I share it when it will all be mine anyway?”

  “She might refuse you.”

  “Then she refuses me. This isn’t about the money. This is about what you did to my family and my godfather, and unlike you, I’m a man of word. My family made a promise, and I intend to honor it.”

  “Don’t talk to me like that.” The booming sound of a fist hitting wood echoed into the hall. “I knew you when you were a little shit in diapers, and I’ve heard enough about your reputation to know you’re not good for my daughter just like your father wasn’t good enough for Ava.”

  “I’m done wasting my time on this. I’m going to marry your daughter like everyone agreed, so you better get used to the idea of having me as your son-in-law and treat me with the respect I deserve, or I’ll turn her against you, and you’ll be left with no one. They’ll both hate you.”

  I blanched, and my body curled into itself. Marry this stranger? What the hell was going on?

  The sound of breaking glass exploded inside of the room and I flinched.

  “Don’t fuck with me. You won’t like the consequences.”

  “No, I won’t be fucking with you. As I understand it, I’ll be fucking your daughter.”

  I gasped at the crude exchange, quickly slapping a hand over my mouth. I was thirteen, but I’d be the first to admit I lived in a bubble of my dad’s creation.

  The study door flung open, then closed immediately, slamming against the doorframe and rattling the wall. The stranger ran his hand through his dark hair. Shadows hid his face, but I didn’t need to see him to sense the power emanating from him. He was the type of man who strutted into a room and owned it and everyone in it without uttering a single word. My breaths came out in ragged pants, and whole body shivers overtook me. I silently prayed he wouldn’t look in my direction.

  He sauntered toward the front door, all loose-limbed elegance like he didn’t have a care in the world, and he didn’t give a shit that my dad had threatened him.
Most men would curl into a ball and beg for forgiveness. Not him, and that fascinated me despite all of his obnoxious words.

  His hand curled around the handle and halted mid-motion, turning his head to me. He closed the distance between us, his unearthly eyes never veering from mine. He towered over me in his expensive, tailored suit. I experienced a weird sensation of familiarity, like I knew him or should know him.

  “You’re Emilia.”

  I nodded, my throat too dry to summon a response.

  His gaze sharpened on my thin white t-shirt and sleep shorts and I felt some unexplainable combination of excitement and discomfort. “You’re a little thing, aren’t you?”

  I folded my arms across my chest. “Who are you?”

  One side of his mouth hitched up, and he kissed my cheek. An irresistible impulse to be closer to him sparked through me, and I curled my hands around the sleeves of his smooth jacket, inhaling his masculine scent.

  “Your future.”

  Almost as if his words marked the moment my entire world shifted on its axis, the floor whirled beneath my bare feet, and I tightened my hold on him.

  “I don’t even know you,” I whispered into his chest.

  He chuckled, the sound bottomless and dancing with a hint of amusement, and his chest vibrated against me. He tipped up my chin, his eyes as blue as the darkest sapphire. “We know each other, Little Emilia.”

  I shook my head in denial. “No.”

  “Yes,” he answered, stepping out of my reach and striding out of the door.

  I hadn’t seen him since.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “Emilia?” Sal’s voice drew me out of the memory that had plagued me for years, especially because my mom killed herself less than a month later. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. Sorry about that. I was thinking about that night.”

  “Why do you believe it was Marcello?”

  I swallowed. “The man said something about being my future.”

  His arms tightened around me. “What else did he say?”

  “I don’t remember, and it doesn’t matter because I won’t marry him. I want to marry someone I love. Someone far away from this life. That’s what my mom wanted. She fought my dad to leave and take me with her. She wanted me to have choices. He won.”