by Harley Stone
Michael seemed to figure out what Carlo meant long before I did. He let out a breath and chuckled. “He’s trying to get into the Durante family.”
I looked from my brother to my uncle to my cousin, struggling to make sense of Michael’s words.
“He is in,” Carlo said, his voice heavy with pride. “Has been.”
“Yep. I got made a few months ago.”
“You’re our guy inside the Durante family?” I asked, finally catching up to speed.
At his nod, my stomach felt ill. I liked Gino. If half the stuff we heard about Maurizio Durante was true, when they found out about him being a mole, Gino would be praying for death. And I’d never heard of a mole who didn’t get caught eventually. Few survived the experience.
“Gino knows what he’s doing,” Carlo reassured me. “And he’s gonna need to get out of here soon.”
“Already?” I asked. Feeling like we had so much more to catch up on. I still couldn’t believe he’d been in Vegas and I hadn’t seen or run into him.
“Yeah, I asked Carlo if we could meet before shit got real crazy,” Gino said. “I need a favor, Dom.”
Sensing it would be a heavy one, I sat. “All right. What’s up?”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Annetta
THE TELEVISION WAS blaring. I could hear it from the front porch before I even opened the door. Dominico kissed me good-bye and I let myself into the house, closing the door on my incredible dream date and running smack dab into reality. And reality smelled a lot like whiskey.
Papa was passed out in the recliner, work clothes and shoes still on, with an almost-empty fifth of bourbon on the coffee table beside him, an empty glass balanced on his thigh, and a framed photograph of my mother pressed against his chest. Papa liked his liquor, and during certain occasions he couldn’t seem to find his way out of the bottle. Holidays were difficult, as was Mom’s birthday, their wedding anniversary, and the date of her death.
I looked to my watch for the date. We were creeping up on the anniversary of Mom’s death. I’d been so busy, I hadn’t even realized it. Over the next several days, Papa would binge, and no amount of yelling or crying would keep him sober. Believe me, I’ve tried. I kept expecting Mom’s passing to get easier on him, but each year seemed to be worse than the last.
After checking to make sure he was still breathing, I took the glass and the photo and set them both on the coffee table before trying to rouse him.
“Papa, come on, let’s get you to bed,” I said, swatting his thigh.
He didn’t even stir, which told me how messed up he was. Even though I knew it wouldn’t deter him, I put the lid on the last of the bourbon and hid it in the kitchen cabinet. At least he’d have to sober up enough to stumble in and find it if he wanted more.
Since I couldn’t get him to bed, I grabbed one of his blankets and spread it over him, removing his glasses and kissing his forehead. These binges always made me feel more like the parent than the child. Still, there was something so beautifully heartbreaking about the way he still loved and missed my mom that I could never stay angry at him for too long. I wanted a love like that someday… hopefully without the tragedy, though.
With Papa taken care of, I locked up, grabbed the cordless phone, and headed to my bedroom. I’d just had the most incredible night of my life and knew Adona would want all the juicy details.
***
Dominico had set my world on fire, then left me to smolder and die out. Days passed without even a phone call from him. Hurt and angry about his abrupt absence from my life, I broke down and asked Papa what he knew about the Mariani family.
“Powerful family,” Papa replied. “Why do you want to know?”
“Just curious,” I lied.
Papa eyed me. It was only a few days past the anniversary of Mom’s death, and he seemed mostly sober, but still had alcohol on his breath and seeping out his pores.
“This have anything to do with that boy who kept sniffin’ around here and takin’ you to work? The one with the expensive car and nice suits?”
I didn’t want to lie, so I shrugged noncommittally.
“Haven’t seen him around in a while,” Papa noted.
“He was… helping out at the restaurant, but he’s not at Antonio’s anymore.”
Papa scratched his chin. “That’s too bad. A boy connected to the Mariani family could do a lot of good for you. You’d be well taken care of, luce dei miei occhi.”
Papa had worked his entire life and still couldn’t pay for the medical procedures that might have kept Mom alive, so I could understand why he wanted me to find a man who could take care of me. Blinded by all his own perceived shortcomings, he’d missed the most beautiful truth about himself. Mom made sure I knew how special he was, though. I was sixteen and kneeling beside her bed when she gripped my hand and referred to herself as lucky.
“Lucky? How can you say that?” I asked. She was in so much pain she could barely sit up, and the doctor said it wouldn’t be long until she went to sleep and never woke again.
“Because we were happy.”
We had been happy, but now we were struggling. We couldn’t afford Mom’s treatments and Papa had started drinking. The happiness from my childhood felt like it was unraveling.
“So many people go through life without feeling what your Papa and I feel for each other. I would trade a thousand years of not knowing him for the eighteen happy years we shared in a heartbeat. My hope is that someday you will know a love as strong as ours.”
I frowned at the memory, knowing I wanted the same thing for myself. While we were in the Escape Room, I’d wondered if Dominico could be that guy for me… the one who made me so happy I felt lucky no matter what life threw at us. I didn’t care about his family’s money, I’d just liked being with him. But apparently, he didn’t feel the same since the jerk couldn’t even be bothered to call me back.
Resolved to put him out of my mind once and for all, I informed Papa, “I can take care of myself.”
“Of course you can,” he replied, without much confidence behind his words.
Frustrated, I let it drop, focusing instead on something Papa had said. He’d called the Marianis powerful. Why? “What do you mean by powerful family?” I asked, wondering if he’d validate my concerns. “Are they mafia?”
As an Italian, I’d been accused of being part of the mafia on more than one occasion. The stereotype angered me, but it was also somewhat true since my mom’s side of the family had mob ties on the east coast. Truth be told, most Italians did have some sort of mob connection in their family.
Papa shrugged. “That’s none of my business, so I wouldn’t ask. As far as I know, they’re successful businessmen who influence local politics.”
Sounded like mobsters to me, and I didn’t need that sort of complication in my life. I let the subject drop and headed to the kitchen where I could keep my hands busy and distract my mind from missing Dominico.
Over the next couple of weeks, I all but gave up on Dominico, pouring my time and energy into my job. With the dinner over, Collin had time to train me to do the position I’d been hired for. I cracked open my mom’s old recipe binder and showed him what I could really do. I tweaked the restaurant’s antipasto recipe, landed my roasted squash and beef carpaccio salad on the permanent menu, and added a few temporary dishes to the rotating daily specials. Positive feedback from customers earned me my first raise before my probation was even up.
Brandon and I worked a lot of the same shifts. His house was only a few blocks from mine, so, despite my insistence that the bus was a perfectly fine mode of transportation, he started giving me lifts to and from work. We went out for drinks twice, and the second time, he tried to snag a goodnight kiss. I dodged, pretending not to know what he’d been about to do, and wrapped him in a quick hug before fleeing into the house. Brandon was great and all, but I felt nothing for him.
When he picked me up for work the next day, it was like the whole almost-k
iss hadn’t happened. Thankful things weren’t awkward between us, I headed for his car.
“Why do you always do that?” Brandon asked, opening his door.
“Do what?” I climbed into the passenger’s seat and buckled up.
“Look up and down the street like you’re looking for someone,” he replied. “You always do it before you get in.”
It had been a little over three weeks since I’d seen or heard from Dominico. Most of me hoped I’d never see him again, but a tiny traitorous sliver of my heart still hoped he’d show up. I hadn’t even realized I’d been watching for him. I shrugged. “Habit, I guess.”
After work, Brandon asked me out again.
“I say we do something really crazy tomorrow since we’re off,” he said. “Let’s go out to eat so someone else has to cook for us. Then we can see a movie… whichever one you want to catch.”
Despite his easy smile, his eyes were hopeful. Adona was wrong, I wasn’t oblivious to guys. Even if I was, a blind person could see that Brandon was into me, and regardless of his casual tone, dinner and a movie sounded like a date. It would be easy to like Brandon. He was cute and funny, and I enjoyed being around him, but he didn’t set me on fire the way Dominico had. I didn’t want to lead him on, but I didn’t want to be alone for the rest of my life, either. Maybe some sort of spark could develop between us if we gave it enough time…
“I’m not sure,” I replied.
His smile faltered.
My stomach twisted. I didn’t want to hurt the guy, but I wasn’t ready to say yes. “Can I call you later and let you know?” I asked.
“Of course,” he said, parking in front of my house. “Take all the time you need, Annetta.”
Confused and emotionally drained, I lumbered into the house and dropped my purse on the floor.
“Rough day?” Papa asked from his recliner.
Before I could answer, the phone rang.
He answered. “Hello. Yes. Who can I tell her is calling?” he asked. Then holding the phone toward me, he said, “It’s for you. Says his name is Dom.”
My heart did some stupid little flip in my chest and I all but growled at it. Three weeks. Three freaking weeks had passed and now he calls? Now that I had almost talked myself into moving on? No. Not happening, buddy. “Tell him I’m not here,” I said.
“I’m sure he can hear you,” Papa replied, looking pointedly at the cordless phone dangling in the air between us. “Is he the one driving the Celica? Didn’t he just drop you off?”
I about choked and reached for the phone. I didn’t want to talk to Dominico, but I didn’t want Papa telling him about Brandon, either. “Hello,” I asked, heading for my room.
“Hey.”
The sound made my knees wobbly. I closed my bedroom door and leaned against it, wondering what was up with my stupid body. Didn’t it know what an inconsiderate asshole he was?
“Why are you calling?” I asked.
He let out a long, drawn-out sigh. “Because I’m a dumbass.”
If he thought I was going to argue, he had another think coming. “Is that why you’re calling now, or why you waited so long to call?” I asked.
“Hmm. The jury’s still out on that one.”
“Maybe you should call me when the jury makes up its mind. I’m guessing it’ll take about three more weeks. Goodbye, Dom.”
No matter what reactions my body had in response to hearing his voice, I refused to be led on by some player. I pulled the phone away and went to hit the end call button, but he yelled at me to wait.
I wanted to hang up and never think about him again. I also wanted him to have some legitimate excuse for not calling. How would I know if he did unless I heard him out?
“Annetta?” he asked.
Still undecided about whether or not to hang up on him, I put the phone back up to my ear and waited.
“I’m sorry I haven’t called,” he said with a deep sigh.
I didn’t respond.
“I get that you’re pissed. You should be. I just… I shouldn’t be callin’ at all.” He sounded worn and frustrated.
I knew the feeling all too well. “Then why are you?” I asked.
“Because I’m weak and selfish, and even though I know I should, I can’t seem to let you walk out of my life.”
His honesty and the raw emotion in his voice rocked my resolve, making me admit to myself how much I’d missed him as well. Money didn’t always mean an easy life, and Domincio sounded like he’d gone through the wringer. Still, I needed to protect my heart. He clearly wasn’t the type of guy I could trust with it.
“Please talk to me,” he pleaded, sounding more vulnerable than I would have thought possible. “It’s been a rough past couple of weeks and… fuck it! I need to hear your voice.”
That did me in. “What do you want me to say?” I relented.
“Anything. Just talk. How are you? How’s work?”
I gave him a brief rundown on how well everything was going at Antonio’s.
“Sounds like you’re really enjoying it.”
“I am, thanks.”
“And how’s your father?”
My gaze drifted to the door. We were on the other side of the anniversary of Mom’s death and he seemed better—not necessarily sober, but coherent—today. “He’s all right.”
Awkward silence lingered between us, filling up with all the things I wish I could say. Where were you? Why didn’t you call? Are you okay?
“What are you doing tonight?” he asked.
“Nothing. I just got home from work.”
“Do you work tomorrow?”
Wondering where this line of questioning was going, I asked, “Why?”
“I know I fucked up by not calling you, Annetta, but I thought about you every single day.”
Residual anger stirred within me. “Just not enough to call me.”
“Too much to call you,” he replied. “My life’s complicated. I don’t get the luxury of doing whatever the hell I want. But I missed you and… Damnit, I hate phones. Can I come pick you up?”
The question surprised me. “And take me where?” I asked.
“Anywhere you want to go.”
Knowing I should decline the offer did not make me smart enough to do so. Especially when I had missed Dominco, too. “Will you talk to me? Tell me why you didn’t call at least?”
“Annetta, I—”
The hesitancy in his voice told me all I needed to know. “Sounds like a no. Why don’t you go ahead and give me a call if you change your mind?”
I tried to hang up for the second time.
“Wait! Annetta, listen. Okay, yes, I will tell you as much as I can.”
Shocked that I was even considering it, I sniffed my hair, which still smelled like the restaurant. Before I could come to my senses, I said, “I can be ready in thirty minutes.”
“Thank you. I’ll be there.” The relief in his voice chipped away the last of my resolve. Before I could say goodbye, he added, “Bring a swimsuit.”
Wondering what the hell I’d signed up for, I clicked off the phone and headed for the shower.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Annetta
I WAS STILL drying my hair when Papa knocked on my bedroom door to let me know I had a guest. Butterflies danced in my stomach as I finished getting ready, stuffing my hot pink bikini in a bag. It was the most revealing piece of clothing I owned, and the idea of wearing it in front of Dominico did crazy things to my stupid stomach. Since I had no clue where we were going or what we were doing, I added a change of clothes and a brush to the bag.
Wearing a suit (as always), Dominico was seated on the sofa talking to Papa when I emerged from my room. He stood and looked me over, his eyes widening at the summer dress I wore.
“Is this okay?” I asked. I’d selected the dress because it made me feel sexy and I wanted to remind him I was still the girl he’d made out with in the escape room, but I felt suddenly self-conscious. What if he was taki
ng me somewhere nice? “You didn’t say where we were going.”
“Perfect.” He smiled. “You look great.”
My cheeks heated as I thanked him.
He held up a bouquet of orange Gerber daisies. “I got these for you.”
Unprepared for him to be sweet, my mind struggled to reconcile the jerk who hadn’t called me for three weeks with the Dominico before me, the kind man I knew him to be. “Thanks, they’re beautiful.” I took the flowers into the kitchen to find a vase. Once they were arranged and set on the table, I followed him out the door.
“Have a good time,” Papa called out from his chair.
“Your father is nice,” Dominico said. “I think he likes me.”
Since I didn’t feel like letting him know that Papa only cared that he’d be able to support me, I nodded. “Yeah, he’s great.”
“You look incredible.” Dominico watched me out of the corner of his eye as he revved the Porsche to life. “I mean it.”
“Thank you.” I’d never been good at taking compliments, so I hurried to change the subject. “Where are we going?”
“Another surprise.” He stopped at the end of the block and turned to look at me. “Thanks again for coming with me. I know I don’t deserve it, but I can’t tell you how much it means.”
He sounded vulnerable again. Something big must have happened in the three weeks we’d been apart for him to be so real with me. Making a mental note to pump him for information later, I nodded and answered truthfully. “I missed you too.”
He shifted back into gear and took my hand, lifting it to kiss my knuckles. We drove for a while in comfortable silence before he parked in the driveway of a nice two-story house in Henderson. After opening my door, he popped the trunk and grabbed a duffle bag.
“You live here?” I asked, excited to finally be getting some information on him.
“No. Mario’s family does. I’m keeping an eye on it for them while they’re out of town.” He unlocked the front door and let us in. The place was gorgeous. Marble entryway, high ceilings, hardwood floors. I followed Dominico into a living room that was about the size of my entire house. Stylish leather furniture was arranged around a beautiful contemporary rug, all angled toward a gorgeous stone fireplace.