Emilia: Part 1 (Trassato Crime Family Book 3)

by Lisa Cardiff

  “I missed you,” I mumbled against his neck.

  He angled my face upward and captured my lips in a kiss that made me wish we were anywhere but sitting in his car on a busy street in the middle of Brooklyn. With every brush of his lips and swirl of his tongue, the steady hum of traffic and horns faded into nothing. I wanted to crawl inside of him. Needy sounds tumbled from my mouth, and I would have been embarrassed if I didn’t believe he felt the same way.

  “It’s only been seventy-five minutes since I dropped you off.”

  “I know, but Mrs. Vitali was riding me about wasting my potential and not trying anymore.”

  He steered the car into traffic. Instead of going straight home after a twenty-minute detour spent kissing Sal per our routine, I was supposed to meet Lettie for dinner. I wished I could cancel on her last minute and spend the next two hours at Sal’s house, but he concluded it was too risky. He was right. Lettie was a shameless gossip. She used it as currency to build her relationship with the other wives in the Family. Unfortunately for her, it never worked. They ate up her dirty secrets and ignored her five minutes later. When I tried to explain it to her from my perspective, she didn’t care. She was desperate for the acceptance since she’d never get it from her husband or her family.

  “I kind of agree with her, ya know? You can’t give up on your dream. You don’t know what’s gonna happen. A lot could change in the next few months.”

  His voice trailed off, and I could tell he was thinking about Marcello’s impending visit.

  “I’m not going to marry him regardless what my father does or says.”

  “I know you don’t want to, but what you want might not matter,” he said with his casual pragmatism.

  Fear pumped through my body as I debated if I should tell him the truth. I took a deep breath and rubbed my hands over the buttery leather upholstery beneath me. I’d been on the fence about confiding in him for weeks, and now I wanted to blurt it out so I could stop speculating about his reaction and whether he’d support me. I held back though. I always held back. Call it survival instinct or fear. Either way, I didn’t fully understand it.

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” I replied, chickening out. “My dad agreed to let me do something social, so I’m going to be happy instead of worrying about tomorrow.”

  He pulled over in front of a fire hydrant. “Is this the restaurant?”

  I scrolled through my phone to double check the text from Lettie earlier this morning. “Yep. This is it.” I paused. “Oh wait, I guess she couldn’t get reservations. I’m supposed to meet her at the park across the street, and then we’ll check out a few places from there.”

  “You’re not wandering around alone.”

  “I won’t be alone. I’ll be with Lettie.” I dropped my phone in the cup holder and retied the laces of my boots. I needed a new pair. The toes were scuffed, and the laces were frayed. My dad had filled my closet full of heels and flats, thinking I’d bend to his demand to dress like a lady. I couldn’t do it because somehow the boots had come to represent my metaphorical resistance to him.

  “Lettie has her head up her ass half of the time. You’d probably be better off walking the city alone than with her. She invites trouble into her life.”

  I unclipped my seat belt and cracked open the passenger door. “I don’t get it. Why does everyone hate Lettie so much? I feel sorry for her. She was forced to marry Pietro. Her family barely talks to her, and everyone acts like she doesn’t exist at parties. I swear I’m the only one who made any effort to get to know her.”

  “There’s a good reason for that.”

  “So you don’t like her either?” I drummed my fingers on my leg. “You lived in her house for nearly a year. She said you were somewhat friendly with each other.”

  He glanced out the window, his fingers tightening around the steering wheel. “She’s a bad influence, and I’d bet my life she doesn’t have good intentions when it comes to you.”

  “Oh, please. You sound like my dad. He warned me away from being anything more than friends with you, and I didn’t listen. You know why? Because I’m loyal.”

  “Look, Em, I don’t want to go into the details, but she’s not what she pretends to be, and if I had my way, you wouldn’t go anywhere near her. She’s a selfish bitch. Let’s leave it at that. Okay?”

  Rage bubbled up in my chest along with all the feelings of helplessness I’d barely managed to keep in check since my father shot down my plea to go to the music conservatory in Italy. I assumed Sal was different. I thought he understood me, only he was like every other man in my life, especially my dad. He wanted to control me and dictate what I could and couldn’t do. Well fuck him. I jumped out of the car.

  The dam of frustration exploded, and I lashed out. “I can’t even do this with you right now. The last thing I need is another man trying to micromanage my life.” I slammed the door, the loud clunk ringing in my ears.

  Sal rolled down the passenger side window. “Stop acting like a child and get in the fucking car.”

  “No. Just go, and I’ll meet you here in two hours.”

  “Get in.” He leaned across the passenger seat and opened the door.

  “No.”

  Horns blared behind him. Drivers shouted obscenities intermixed with colorful hand gestures.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  I took off, darting across the street, dodging traffic. Sal sped up, and his tires squealed around the corner. I watched him until his car was out of sight. My stomach swirled with equal amounts of disappointment and relief. I shouldn’t have lashed out at him, but after the confrontation with my piano teacher and the mounting pressure of Marcello’s visit, I was on edge.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  A swing set surrounded by spindly trees and a few benches sat in the dead center of the park. A stray wrapper rolled near my feet like tumbleweed. The steady hum of traffic was punctuated with a stray dog bark here and there. Except for a man leaning against a tree who stopped to smoke a cigarette a couple of minutes ago, the park was empty.

  Dammit, Lettie.

  When I reached inside my messenger bag to call her, I groaned. I’d left my phone in the cup holder. Knowing Lettie, she could flake and I wouldn’t have a clue. Her husband ran hot and cold. Half the time he barely noticed her, and the other half he meddled in every decision, behaving like a total tyrant, demanding she cancel plans and banning her from leaving the house for weeks on end.

  “Shit,” I mumbled, burying my face in my hands. I made a mistake coming here. It was getting dark, and Sal wouldn’t be back for two hours, if he bothered at all after my stupid temper tantrum. No, he’d come back. Sal could be a jerk, but he wouldn’t abandon me somewhere and risk pissing off my dad.

  “Having a bad day?” a heavily accented voice rumbled next to my ear. The smell of stale cigarettes wafted across the back of my hair, and two hands landed on my shoulders.

  My heart went haywire, and my spine stiffened. I lurched forward, trying to sever this man’s hold on me, but it was no use. He tightened his grip and yanked me back into the slats of the metal bench. Before I had the chance to scream, his palm came down on my mouth.

  “Shut the fuck up and listen to me,” he hissed in my ear.

  Panic crawled up my throat and tears burned the corners of my eyes. A sickening concoction of adrenaline swirled in my gut, rendering me blind and deaf to everything aside from the deafening drumming in my ears.

  “Miss Trassato?”

  The sound of my name rolling off his tongue snapped me out of my imminent panic attack. I jerked my gaze toward him and came face to face with the man who’d been standing across the park a few moments earlier. A fedora hat shadowed his eyes, and a thick beard concealed his features, making him next to impossible to identify in a lineup.

  “I’m here to give you a message, not to hurt you. If I release my hand do you promise not to scream?”

  I nodded, not sure if I was telling the truth, but needing hi
s hands away from me as fast as possible. His hand shifted back to my shoulder and he squeezed. Rather than reassuring me of his intentions, the gesture sent a shudder rippling through me, which was probably his intention.

  “Now turn around and smile like you’ve never been happier.”

  “Who are you?”

  “That’s not important. I’m only the messenger.”

  “Then pass on your message and leave me alone.

  He chuckled, and the grating sound along with the puff of his breath made my hair stand on end. “Tell your father that Signor Bonaccorso sends his regards, and he hasn’t forgotten their arrangement.”

  “What arrangement?”

  He buried his hand in my hair, and I arched my back, preparing for him to yank on it. He didn’t. “You don’t need to worry about the details. He’ll understand.”

  “Hey! What the fuck are you doing?” The sound of Sal’s deep voice and his thundering footsteps made my heart sing. I’d never been so relieved in my life.

  The man released me and took off in a sprint. Sal grabbed him by the collar of his black trench coat and pulled him to the ground. Arms, legs, and bodies flew in the air, interlaced with the sounds of grunts and flesh meeting flesh. Sal’s head whipped sideways, and blood splattered the front of his previously pristine shirt. He didn’t waste any time regrouping. He charged, wrapping his arms around the man’s waist, forcing him to the ground. Sal straddled him, landing punch after punch.

  Sirens sounded in the distance. While I doubted they were heading here, the noise snapped me out of my stupor. I had to end this before someone called the police or Sal got seriously hurt. I vaulted off the bench, rushing forward. My boots slapped against the gravel, slipping and sliding in my haste to reach Sal. The man’s eyes were glazed, and his face was bloodied and bruised.

  “Sal, we need to get out of here. That’s enough.”

  He kept going.

  Smack. Grunt. Moan.

  Blood and saliva splattered everywhere.

  I tugged on his suit jacket. “Sal, stop it. Please. Take me home. I want to get out of here before anyone comes.”

  Scrambling to his feet, he dragged his bloodied hand through his disheveled hair. His gaze cut to me, and a chill rocketed down my spine. Those eyes feathered with shades of green, brown and gold burned into me. Anger radiated out of him like a tidal wave, and my heart stuttered. I’d never seen Sal like this. I didn’t know this man. It was like someone had finally pulled back the curtain, and bloodthirst and rage had replaced his mild, caring manner. Even when he shot that man in the warehouse, he’d exercised control and deliberation. He reminded me of a statue or robot. Not today.

  “Sal, I-I’m sorry. I should have listened—”

  “I don’t want to hear it.” His hand came down on the back of my neck, both a warning and a gesture of support. Without a word or backward glance he guided me away from the park and toward the street, his stride determined, confident, and filled with authority. The muscles in his jaw jumped and seesawed. People dodged out of his way, their eyes fixed away from him like they feared catching his attention.

  I glanced over my shoulder. The man was already on his feet, marching backward, his attention firmly on me. He pointed at me and then at the side of his head reminding me of his message. I stumbled over the uneven pavement when we hit the sidewalk, and Sal’s arm slipped around my waist steadying me. I didn’t care about his message or the meaning behind it. I only wanted to go home.

  A strangled moan worked its way up my constricted throat, stopping before it exited my mouth. I sagged into Sal, wrapping my arms around his waist and tucking me into his side, not caring if he was still angry with me. I needed to be held. I needed something solid to keep my musings out of the quicksand of despair pulling me under with every step closer to his car.

  The little freedom and decision-making I had would be over the instant my dad learned what happened tonight. I might as well call him now and tell him to bar my windows and add a keyed lock to my bedroom door. He’d never let me out of his sight, not until he handed me over to Marcello. Then I’d be married and who knew what he’d expect of me?

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “How the hell did this happen?”

  My father paced back and forth, his leather soles clomping over the floor, repeatedly shoving his hand into his salt and pepper hair. His eyes were darker than normal, and I hadn’t been able to find my voice for the last five or ten minutes. I hadn’t uttered a single word since we reached my house.

  My dad had been waiting, and the minute we stepped over the threshold he unleashed fire and brimstone on Sal. Being a complete and total chicken shit, I did nothing except stare at him. I didn’t even correct the inaccuracies he tossed at Sal one after another like grenades.

  Sal glanced up, his legs spread and his elbows resting on his knees. “I got there as soon as I parked the car.”

  “What the fuck were you thinking? Why did you let her walk into the park by herself? You had one job: to accompany my daughter everywhere. And you failed. Angelo said he trusted you. He said next to Gian, you are one of his most reliable guys.”

  “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” Sal swallowed, his hands curled into fists. “I’ll understand if you don’t trust me with her anymore.”

  My father forced out a dry chuckle that had absolutely nothing to do with amusement. “Trust you with my daughter? Hell, right now I don’t trust you period. Now get out of my fucking house. I don’t want to see your face for at least a week. Angelo can decide what to do with you in the meantime.”

  “I understand.” Sal stood, his broad shoulders squared with defiance, his face a poker mask. I admired his strength, his quiet resistance, and his unwillingness to bend in the face of my father’s wrath.

  “Wait,” I squeaked out, finally finding some modicum of courage beneath the haze of shock. “It wasn’t his fault.”

  My dad leaned over, bracing his hands on the edge of his desk, his black brows flattening. “I didn’t ask for your opinion, Emilia. I’ll deal with you later in private.”

  “No.” I wiped my hands up and down my legs, doing my best to warm myself from the outside in. “Listen, Dad. I jumped out of the car because Sal refused to let me go to the park alone. I caught him off guard. He came after me as soon as he parked the car. I take full responsibility for what happened.”

  “Is this true, Sal?” my father asked him.

  “It doesn’t matter. I should have anticipated her next move. I made a mistake.”

  “That’s not true. It was my fault. I even forgot my phone.” I swallowed over the cotton expanding inside my mouth. “And that man, well, he must’ve been stalking me. He followed me there. He knew my name.”

  Sal’s angry gaze cut to me, and I jerked backward. He’d hardly looked in my direction since we got in his car. It was like he couldn’t stand me anymore, and now that I had his attention, I could breathe again. Even with fury blazing from his eyes, my heart filled up under the weight of his attention. I wanted to climb up him like a damn tree and never let go. Somehow over the last six months he’d become my safe space, my anchor, and I had to defend him or my father would squeeze him out of my life. I wouldn’t let that happen without a fight.

  “What do you mean, he knew you?” My father’s icy voice broke Sal’s lock on my attention.

  “He called me by name and mentioned some man.” I tapped my finger on my thigh, trying to recall what he said to me before the shit hit the fan. “Mr. Bonaccorso. That’s it. He wanted to make sure you’d honor your arrangement with him.”

  My dad’s face paled, then he picked up his marble pen holder and chucked it. It whirled through the air, crashing against the dark wood paneled wall and shattering when it hit the hardwood floor. The pens and pencils scattered like confetti, rolling to a stop at the edge of the jewel-toned throw rug.

  Silence blanketed the room like a thundercloud primed to unleash the full intensity of its fury. My heart thumped in pr
otest as if it could flee the tension in the room and find somewhere to take shelter if it pumped hard enough. I burrowed my fidgeting hands in the hem of my shirt, plucking at the loose threads in a futile effort to mask my growing uneasiness. My father wasn’t prone to tantrums. His patented glare, his silent disapproval, and his unspoken power were sufficient to convey his message.

  Sal’s hands fell on top of my shoulders and I closed my eyes, pretending we were anywhere but here. I played Gershwin’s “Rhapsody in Blue” in my head, my fingers tapping softly in time with the invisible notes.

  “What else did he say?” my father barked out, pulling me out of the melody dancing inside of my mind.

  “Nothing. That’s it. Sal showed up a few seconds later and you know what happened after.” I cleared my throat. “Who’s Mr. Bonaccorso? What does he want? That man said he wouldn’t hurt me.”

  My father’s rage evaporated before my eyes like it never existed in the first place. Deadly calm replaced the show of emotion. Staring at me with flat eyes, he adjusted the knot of his silver tie. “Nothing you need to worry about. Sal, I will no longer need you to escort my daughter to piano lessons.”

  Sal stepped back from me, and I missed his comfort. “Yes, sir. Would you like me to talk to Tony about driving?”

  “No.” My dad trailed his fingers across the top of his shiny, polished desk. “She won’t be taking any lessons. She has too much to do in preparation for her wedding. Her engagement to Marcello will be announced at my Christmas Eve party.”

  My jaw dropped. “You can’t keep me from taking lessons! You know how much they mean to me!”

  “You can play the piano upstairs, and once you’re married, you can resume your training if your husband agrees. Until then, you cannot leave the house unless accompanied by me. Sal, you’ll stay here while I’m not home.” His icy gaze sliced to Sal. “Don’t fuck this up. You know what’s riding on this.”