Machiavellian: Gangsters of New York, Book 1

by Di Corte, Bella

  “You’re afraid I’m dying,” he said.

  “What! Are you?” My entire body convulsed from fear. I knew I loved the ass, but I had no idea how much until I watched as he took a bullet for my friend. The woman I considered my sister. If I lost him, I lost everything.

  “For the hundredth time. No. This is nothing.” He grinned. “You’re cute when you worry.”

  I slapped him on the arm and he hissed. “Don’t play with me, Capo. I’m not in the mood. And don’t call me cute! I’m not a baby cabbage.”

  “Baby cabbage,” he repeated slowly. “Like a Brussels sprout.”

  He told me where to turn a couple of times, and then he became quiet. He stared out of the window with a far-off look in his eyes. Every once in a while, a violent shiver tore through him. When the silence went on for too long, I cleared my throat.

  “I remembered something, Capo. When we were at the house on Staten Island. I remembered you. The memories were in reverse, though. I remembered running out of the door, crying for you to come back after you left me with Jocelyn and Pops. I didn’t want you to leave me.

  “You fell to your knees on the step so I could look you in the eye. Just like you did before those guys shot at us. I was standing at the very top. You were kneeling on the step below. You told me that I was safe. That you made sure of it. You would always look out for me. Then I gave you the rosary. I put it around your neck.”

  I could feel his eyes on me. I had his full attention. “Your mother gave it to you to stop you from fiddling,” he said. “You slept with it at night. You were a nervous child. I was touched that you gave me the one thing that made you feel safe.”

  I nodded, clutching the steering wheel. “Then I remembered being in a house. Hiding in a closet. You made me hide in there?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You gave me my colors and my coloring book. I told you my favorite color was blue. You told me to color the page with the butterfly. So I did. Then I heard some noises that scared me. A few minutes later, you came back for me.”

  “Then I brought you to Jocelyn.”

  “Then you left me,” I breathed out. “Don’t leave me again, Capo. Life is not worth living without you.”

  It wasn’t anything money could buy all along. It was my husband. The love I felt from him.

  I felt it, even if I didn’t know what it was then. No man sacrifices himself the way he did for innocence alone. They say it takes guts to do something like that, but I disagreed. It took love. Maybe what he felt at first was an innocent kind of love—I was only five—but as I grew into a woman, the same love grew and developed into something else.

  He turned toward me, his hand sliding against my stomach. I could feel the warmth from his touch even though he was cold. For the first time, the baby fluttered. It wasn’t a hard kick. More like wings tickling me from the inside. It was the strangest thing I’d ever felt, but the most wonderful.

  I smiled. “He moved. Just now.”

  Capo pushed his hand against my stomach, trying to feel it, too. I told him it would take a while for him to feel it, the movement was as soft as wings. Then I glanced at him and what I saw in his eyes made me lose all focus. He seemed…excited.

  “Shit!” I yanked the steering wheel in the opposite direction, a near miss with traffic from the other side. Goosebumps scattered on my arms, and not from the near miss. A box on the back seat had started to play music. “What’s that?”

  “Keep your eyes on the road.” His voice was firm, back to being capo. He turned around and dug in the back for a second. Then he lifted his hand so I could see. It was the black wolf with the butterfly on its nose. “For his room.”

  “You bought them?”

  “They’re in the backseat, Mariposa.” He pointed out the obvious. “The owner of the shop was missing a few from the collection, so I called a shop in Paris and bought those, too. You have a choice. We can either pick them up or they’ll ship them.”

  An explosive laugh mixed with an equally explosive sob burst from my mouth. Tears blurred my vision. Then I sobered up some after I realized. “You went there. To Dolce. After all that happened. If they would’ve seen you—”

  “They didn’t. I know them, Mariposa. I know their habits better than they do. I could’ve slit their throats a hundred times since they killed me.”

  “Why haven’t you?”

  “I’m a ghost that won’t leave them alone. Once I kill them, it’s over.” He became quiet for a second. “I was in the shop when Keely parked across the street from Dolce. Achille saw you.”

  “Is that why he shot the house up?”

  “It’s a possibility. Or it could be someone else.”

  “Someone else?”

  “Cash Kelly’s made it clear that your friend belongs to him. He has a lot of enemies right now. He’s fighting for territory. Word gets around that something is important to him.” He shrugged. “They’ll destroy it to make a point.”

  “And if Cash thinks the Scarpones tried to kill his—whatever Keely is to him—he’ll retaliate.”

  “He’s not that strong yet, but he’s rising. He’ll just cause more trouble for them.”

  “He’ll be a pain in their asses.”

  “You speak so eloquently.” He grinned.

  I grinned, too. “It’s the truth, right?”

  “Yeah, the truth. They don’t want more trouble right now. I caused a lot of strife between all of the families. I made it look like the other was to blame. I’m a ghost, Mariposa. They believe I’m dead. Arturo and his son couldn’t tell the other families that they suspected it was Vittorio fucking with all of them. Even if it were true, why would I target my own family? They’d all know then, for sure, that Arturo had me killed. They’re all just starting to play nice again, since Arturo convinced them that an outsider started the wars. The Scarpones can’t afford longer battles. I’ve been stealing their shit.”

  “You’ve crippled them.”

  “Close to it.”

  Yeah, he was Machiavellian all right.

  “Right here—” He pointed toward a building. He hit a button on his watch and the garage opened. “There’s no time to look around. Stay close to me. We’re in and out.”

  “What do you mean…out? Uncle Tito’s supposed to meet us here.”

  We were already hustling to get inside of the building. Capo had grabbed the box with the baby’s figurines and was practically making me sprint. The building was plain but huge. It had a ton of mismatched shit in it. All of the stuff he’d stolen from the Scarpones, probably.

  “Another place.”

  “Your arm!”

  “It’ll be fine.”

  He wasn’t fine. He was bleeding. His shirt was pasted to him.

  Three buildings down, at least, he led us to another garage. He hit the button on a massive off-road type of vehicle and told me to drive again. This time I really hauled ass to get where we were going.

  Another warehouse.

  Uncle Tito, Rocco, and Rocco’s brother, Dario, were there when we arrived. Before Uncle Tito started to get to work, Capo secured my watch around my wrist.

  “You take this off again—” he narrowed his eyes “—you’ll be punished.”

  “I—”

  He shook his head, no excuses, and went to sit on the table. There were two in the room, one on each side. The entire room had been set up to look like a doctor’s office, or a small emergency room. Uncle Tito made Capo remove his shirt, and when he did, rivulets of blood ran down his chest from a hole. The bloody smell was strong, mixing in with all of the antiseptics. Uncle Tito assessed the wound and then instructed Dario to slip a blood pressure cuff on Capo’s arm.

  “Mariposa,” Capo said.

  I had to blink a few times to focus on him.

  “Sto bene.”

  I’m fine, he had said.

  I nodded, but I didn’t feel so well. When Uncle Tito took out a scalpel from his bag, the entire room faded to black. When I woke
up again, I was on the opposite table, and Capo was grinning at me.

  “Nice nap?”

  I tried to sit up, but Uncle Tito stopped me. “Rest, nipote.” Then he slid across the room, to the other bed, on a chair with wheels. He checked the bandage on Capo’s arm.

  “What happened?” I rubbed my eyes. “Are you okay?”

  “You passed out,” Capo said. “As soon as you saw the scalpel. And I’m all good.” He patted Uncle Tito on the head. “The angel of life stopped death once again.”

  “Ah!” Uncle Tito slapped at him. “Nonsense! Do not allow your husband to play on your sympathies. This wound is nothing! The bullet was close to the surface.”

  I looked at a silver bowl sitting on a silver table. A bloody bullet was in it. I didn’t realize I’d passed out again until I woke up in the firehouse. Rocco carried me. I looked to my right. Capo stared at us, the coldness back in his eyes. It wasn’t aimed at me, though, but at Rocco.

  “I can walk,” I croaked out.

  “Nonsense,” Uncle Tito said.

  Capo gave him a dirty look.

  “Your husband is upset that I refuse to let him carry you. His wound is not bad, but he should not be carrying a weight, no matter how light!” He pointed at Capo. “You listen to me, or I will tape your hands together!”

  I laughed softly but hid it when Capo turned the dirty look on me. Then I laughed some more when I thought of Giovanni watching all of us disappear into the master suite and not come out for a while.

  Capo told me to get settled in bed once we were on the secret side. He was going to walk Uncle Tito and Rocco out. Before they left, I kissed them both and thanked them. Uncle Tito waved it off and gave me instructions on the medicine Capo had to take and what he could and couldn’t do.

  My husband came back in the bedroom a few minutes later. I couldn’t seem to move. All that had happened seemed to catch up to me.

  “Shower,” Capo said, pointing toward the bathroom.

  I shook my head. “Shower for me. You can’t get your arm wet. Doctor’s orders.”

  “You have two options. Shower with me. Or shower with me after I’ve thrown you over my shoulder.”

  He grinned at me when I wrapped his arm in plastic wrap from the kitchen before we got in. I used the shower handle and aimed it away from him. But when I washed all of the bloody spots off, his shoulders relaxed, and I could tell he was at ease. And no matter how much I protested he refused to let me wash myself.

  After the shower, while we dried off, he stared at me.

  “What?” I whispered.

  “Your stomach.” He nodded to it. “You’re starting to show.”

  I turned to the side and smiled. “I am. I wonder if he’s going to be big like you? I hope he has your eyes.”

  A moment passed and neither of us said anything. He took my hand after and led me toward the bedroom. I climbed in and patted the spot next to me. My eyes narrowed when he started to creep toward me.

  “Capo,” I said. “I’m not giving in on this one. The doctor said—”

  “I don’t give a fuck what the doctor says. This is what I need. You. Underneath me. Crying out my name. That’s my only medicine. My only cure in this diseased world.”

  I bit my lip, not sure what to do. When he came close enough, he used his mouth to pull my lip from my teeth, and he gently sucked on it.

  “Ah,” I released a soft breath. Then my hands fluttered over his shoulders, down his arms, over his sides.

  He hissed out a breath and pulled me down with one arm, setting me beneath him. He kissed me, softly, slowly, until I felt like he had taken my soul and I was lost to anyone but him, and then his tongue went deeper and harder. But his touches were…light.

  “What are you doing to me?” I whispered when his tongue trailed down my throat, all the way to my breasts.

  “Something I should’ve done before. Something different.”

  He said nothing after that, but when he entered me, it wasn’t hard or rough. He took his time, moving in a slow, sensual rhythm. He demanded that I keep my eyes open, and his were on mine, his teeth sunk into his bottom lip.

  “Mariposa.” His eyes closed then, and he made a strangled noise in his throat.

  The sound of my name on his lips made me dissolve into him, and my orgasm tore through me, even though what he’d done to me was far from hard. He pounded into me after, relentless to chase his release, and I came again with him.

  He didn’t move after, though he trembled. I was scared to look at the bandage to see if he had done something to his arm and blood was gushing. The thought of it made me queasy. Blood usually didn’t bother me but his did. The dream kept coming back to me, so fresh in my mind.

  I wrapped my arms around him, burying my face against his chest. I kissed him in the spot four times. He tried to rise, but I refused to let him go.

  I had so many things to say:

  Love is not the dagger you think it is. It’s only used as a weapon when the one you love turns it on you. Love is a shield against the rest of the world. Only the two of us can allow strangers beyond our gates. Love stems from so many different things. Companionship. Friendship. Loyalty, and loyalty can breed love. Or love can breed loyalty.

  I kept quiet, though, because I didn’t want him to think that I was trying to convince him or convert him. I didn’t want to point out the obvious. You love me, too.

  He seemed to sense my thoughts. “In my world, love will only get you killed, Mariposa.” The sound of his voice, low and shredded, made me pull closer to him. “That’s why my mamma left those words behind. She knew what I’d be facing. She used to tell me that I was too pretty. That they were going to eat me alive. But she didn’t see it in me. She didn’t see that a pretty face doesn’t cancel out ruthlessness in the blood. I’m as savage as they are. I held my own. I proved my worth.”

  “You’re still holding your own.” I kissed his neck softly. He smelled like the beach, like our time in Sicily and Greece. “You have nothing left to prove. Not a damn thing, Capo.”

  He leaned down and kissed me on the head. Then he slid out of me, leaving me empty and reaching out for him. He rested on his good arm, facing me, and he took my hands in his, cradling them. “You’re owed a heart, Mariposa. The veins you already have.”

  “A heart—oh. The veins are the three bad things. Now for the good?”

  He brought my hands to his mouth. “Orange blossoms.” He inhaled around my pulse and then released the breath in a slow stream of warm air. “You want to know why I didn’t tell you who I was? Semplicemente.” Simply. “I didn’t want you to figure it out. If you did, it made me…anxious to think that you’d walk away from me, that you’d tell me to go to hell, to marry someone else. I didn’t tell you because, semplicemente, I want your companionship. Your time.”

  I need to disappear yet be seen. He was lonely, so fucking lonely, because of those ruthless bastards.

  “I need you for the rest of my life, Mariposa. I need all of you to belong to me only. Ossa delle mie ossa; carne della mia carne; la mia bella donna; mia moglie.” Bone of my bone; flesh of my flesh; my beautiful woman; my wife.

  “So you didn’t have to make something up?” I blinked at him. “You had the heart all along?”

  “Yeah, I did. You. You’re the heart.” He took my hands and moved them to his neck, right over his scar. “If this didn’t exist. The voice. How could I tell you, Mariposa? If words no longer existed, if someone stole them, how would we communicate? Actions. Actions speak louder than words. You don’t need words to make this real.”

  “Actions,” I whispered. “Your life. You sacrificed yours for mine.”

  He leaned his head against mine. “Nel mio mondo l'amore ti farà solo uccidere. Sono un uomo morto dalla notte in cui ti ho lasciato alle spalle.”

  The translation of his words was a bit loose, but his point was as sharp as a sword out to slay for love.

  In my world love will only get you killed. I have b
een a dead man since the night I left you behind.

  I pulled back to see him better, but he only pulled me closer, so close that I couldn’t breathe. So close that my breath was his and his was mine.

  Non servono più parole. No more words were needed, as he let me in for a peaceful swim.

  26

  Mariposa

  I had somehow, a miracle, convinced my husband to take the day off. Not only the day, but the night, too. After Harrison’s house had been sprayed with bullets, it was hard to be apart from him.

  My nightmares were only getting worse.

  It was the same one over and over, except the blood would increase each time. I’d look down and the slow crawl of it would inch closer and closer to my feet. I still couldn’t move. Only scream out.

  In reality, not dreams, he sometimes stood close to me. At other times, he did his thing. Seeking vengeance on the Scarpone family was a job to him. One he loved very much. When he admitted to me that he didn’t kill them because it would be over, I understood right away.

  It would end his reign of torture on them. When he fucked with them in life, playing the game, he got a thrill out of it. Once they were dead, it would all be over, and he’d be left to deal with…himself.

  What worried me the most was, would he get to them first? Or would they finally succeed and end his life?

  It was a game with mighty high stakes.

  The life tumbling in my stomach drove the point home.

  I ran a hand over my stomach. In the last week my belly seemed to explode. I wore a tight navy dress that had stretch but was form fitting, and from all angles, you could tell I was pregnant.

  “Mariposa.”

  It took a minute for me to realize Capo had said something to me. After my doctor’s appointment, where the ultrasound confirmed the baby was a boy, he took me out to eat at Mamma’s Pizzeria. We sat in the front, on stools, turned to one another.

  “Yeah?”

  He grinned at me and then picked up the ultrasound picture I’d placed between us, leaning against a dessert menu. He flashed it at me.