by Harley Stone
No sense in worrying her with something she couldn’t do anything about. “Nothing,” I lied. “I’m just tired.”
“Don’t you lie to your mamma, mio figlio,” she tsked, frowning as she studied my face. “And don’t pretend I can’t see the truth for myself. Avere un chiodo fisso in testa.”
The old saying—an accusation that I had a nail fixed in my head—was the Italian way of saying I had a bee in my bonnet. I couldn’t help but chuckle at her idiom. “It’s not a nail, Mamma. More like being caught in a net.” Realizing I shouldn’t have even said that much, I clamped my mouth shut.
Her forehead scrunched up. “And you think you can get away with that little of an explanation?” she asked. “No. You tell me what is wrong right this instant.”
I tried to shrug her off again. “Leave it be. You can’t fix it.”
That was apparently the wrong thing to say, because her eyes flashed with anger. She glared from me to the door leading back to the dinner.
“Don’t you talk to me like that, Dominico. Your father may have forgotten who I am, but I haven’t. I may not have been born the son my father wanted, but I am far from the helpless girl he thought I was. You would all be wise to remember that and not underestimate me.”
I’d never seen Mamma so pissed before. Somebody must have set her off. Lowering my gaze, I apologized. She patted my cheek and demanded again that I tell her what was wrong.
“Just a girl.”
A smile softened her features, smoothing away some of her previous anger. “It’s always a girl, my boy. I take it Valentina Pelino isn’t the girl who has you sulking outside your brother’s engagement dinner.”
“I’m not sulking and I… It doesn’t matter.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on, and I’ll decide whether or not it matters.”
Against my better judgment, I broke down and told Mamma all about Annetta. I’d planned to make it sound like a meaningless fling, but once I started talking, I couldn’t stop.
Mamma waited for me to finish before frowning. “It’s worse than I thought.”
Stunned, I stared at her. “You knew about her?”
“Of course I do, dear.”
“But—” Shit. If Mamma knew about Annetta, then Father must…
“I know everything that happens in this city, Dom,” Mamma said. “And I let your father in on only what he needs to know.”
Sometimes I felt like I didn’t know Mamma at all.
“I knew you were sneaking off to be with her, but I didn’t realize it had gone this far. What is she to you.”
“She’s…” How could I even answer that? “I love her, Mamma. I know it doesn’t matter, because of the Pelinos, but I do.” Admitting it aloud didn’t change anything, but it did make me feel better.
“Her family has loose connections on the east coast, but they were never involved.”
And how had Mamma found that out? We’d done a thorough check before hiring her at the restaurant and hadn’t found anything.
“Her father owes some money to Don Rocchi… loans he took out for Annetta’s schooling.”
Another fact I knew nothing about.
“Well, what’s she made of? Think she can handle all this?”
Did I? “I don’t know, but she’s strong like you. She hasn’t freaked out about my absences or tried to manipulate me into anything.”
Mamma sighed and pulled me down into a hug, rubbing my back like I was five years old with a scraped knee again. “Let me think about this,” she said. “Don’t do anything crazy.”
I chuckled at the idea, wondering what she thought either of us could do. No matter who Mamma had been and how much information she had, it was suicide to go against my father. Especially with his growing paranoia.
“Yes, Mamma,” I said to appease her.
She kissed my cheeks and sent me back inside to do my old man’s bidding.
***
The next day, Michael and I were trailing one of our delivery vehicles when it got hit. We’d stayed a few cars behind, trying to stay out of sight, and were caught behind a light. When the light changed, Michael sped up to catch the van, weaving in and out of vehicles. Michael was still speeding when I spotted the van parked in a vacant lot, partially blocked a black SUV.
“There!” I shouted, pointing it out.
As I was craning my neck around to see what the hell was going on, Michael turned a hard right, jumping the curb and barely missing a fence before coming to a screeching stop beside the SUV.
My pistol was in my hand before I opened the door and lurched out of the car.
Two suppressed shots rang out.
With Michael by my side, I rushed to the SUV, grabbed my knife, and slashed the front driver’s side tire. No matter what happened, these bastards wouldn’t be able to make a clean getaway. Michael and I circled the SUV, him at the back, me at the front, and I came face to face with the business end of a pistol.
“Drop your fuckin’ weapon,” the wielder growled.
“Fuck you,” Michael said. “You drop your fuckin’ weapons.”
There were four of us. Everyone had guns drawn. I’d heard stories from old mobsters about shootouts like this. Someone always died, usually the guy who shot first, but always the man who didn’t fire at all. My heart pounded so hard I wouldn’t be surprised if everyone could hear it over the traffic on the other side of the vehicles. I watched the guy in front of me, waiting for the slightest indication that he was about to pull the trigger.
“Everyone calm down,” Michael said, using his “boss” voice. “Let’s fix this so we all get out alive.”
No way in hell was that happening. These bastards had just hit one of our deliveries. If we didn’t bring them in or kill them, Father would kill us. But sure, I could pretend to play nice if it meant not getting my brains blown out in some goddamn parking lot.
Two more suppressed shots.
Before I could squeeze the trigger, the guy in front of me toppled. On the way down, he fired a wild shot that grazed my right forearm before puncturing the side of the SUV.
I grabbed my bleeding arm with my left hand and shot the asshole again to make sure he was good and dead. When I looked up, Michael was running to our delivery van. I followed him to find a soldier by the name of Rocco slumped over the passenger’s seat, pistol still in his left hand while he held his bleeding stomach with the right.
“I got the bastard,” Rocco whispered.
Then he leaned back, closed his eyes, and died.
Shit. “What do we do?” I asked Michael.
We couldn’t leave the bodies there. If, by some miracle of a chance, nobody had called in the shots, some cop would eventually drive by to investigate the nice, newer-looking vehicles parked in an abandoned lot, and we’d be screwed.
Gesturing to my arm, Michael said, “Wrap that shit up and help me load the bodies.”
Once we got all four bodies loaded in the back of the van, Michael told me to drive it to the drop point.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” I said, wiping blood off my hands onto a rag. “Why me?”
He leveled a hard stare at me. “Because I said.”
It was the “boss” voice again. He’d never used it on me before. Stunned, I stared back at him, waiting for him to claim it was a joke or something, but my brother’s expression didn’t crack. If anything, it hardened.
“That’s it then?” I asked, still disbelieving my ears and eyes. “You’re pullin’ rank? We don’t even get to rock, paper, scissors for the shit jobs anymore?”
He turned his back on me, heading for his Acura. “I’ll meet you there.”
“Fuck you,” I shouted to his back, hurt and angry that my brother would treat me like hired help. Michael could be an asshole, but he usually wasn’t a condescending prick. At least, not to me. Wanting to flick more shit at him, I said the one thing I knew he’d hate. “Congratulations, Mikey, you’re turning out just like the
old man.”
“Go to hell, Dom,” he said before disappearing around the SUV.
Shaking my head, I climbed into the van full of four dead bodies and a shit-ton of drugs. Knowing that if I got pulled over I was done for, I made myself take a couple deep breaths before turning over the engine and driving the speed limit to the drop point.
A half hour later, with the van tucked safely inside one of our warehouses, there was no way in hell I was getting back in Michael’s car. Still fuming, I walked to the payphone down the street and called Mario to pick me up. Then, because I was angry and coming down from a near-death experience, I dialed Annetta, hoping she’d make everything better. Not quite.
“Thank god you called,” she said with an urgency that immediately put me back on alert.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“I… I can’t talk to you over the phone about this, Dom. I need to see you.”
We’d been together for months, and I’d never heard her sound so desperate and afraid. My mind raced at the possibilities. Had someone found out about us and threatened her? Or had she finally come to her senses enough to brush me off for good? Both options twisted my stomach in knots.
“I don’t know if I can get away tonight.”
“Please, Dom. I really need to talk to you.”
Shit. Trying to figure out what to do, I said, “I’ll be there.”
“Soon?” she asked. “It’s important.”
I leaned against the phone booth. “Yeah. Soon. I promise.”
She sighed heavily. “Thank you. I’ll see you soon.”
I disconnected and waited for Mario, wondering what could be so damn important that Annetta needed to see me “soon.” I thought about calling Mario back and telling him I’d grab a cab instead, but he’d most likely already left. Besides, most of the city’s cabbies were in the pocket of one family or another. Either they’d report back to my old man, or I’d lead my enemies to Annetta’s doorstep.
With the cab out of the question, I planned to have Mario drop me off at the casino to grab my car, but by the time he arrived I was a mess. I needed to know what was wrong with Annetta. And if I couldn’t trust my best friend, who could I trust?
“Hey,” I said, climbing into the passenger’s seat. “I need you to take me to Annetta’s, but you gotta keep it between us, okay?”
He stared at me, his brow furrowed. I was afraid he’d ask questions that would put him in danger, but instead, he nodded. “Okay, Dom. Whatever you need.”
Grateful, I laid back and watched the blocks roll by. I’d just survived a life and death situation, drove a van loaded with bodies and drugs, and neither of those held a candle to the fear I felt as we approached Annetta’s house. Had she found out that I was stuck with Valentina? Was she dumping me? I couldn’t handle the thought of never touching her… never hearing her laugh… never seeing those brilliant green eyes… never being inside of her… again.
Mario parked in front of her house. Her father’s truck was gone and the place was quiet. I pounded on the door. No answer. Worried, I pounded again. When it swung open, I was staring at someone who wasn’t Annetta.
“Where’s Net?” I asked.
The girl eyed me up and down like she could take me before saying, “You must be Dom. You better do right by my girl, or you’re gonna have to deal with me, I don’t care who the fuck you are.”
She weighed maybe a buck twenty-five, and I wasn’t scared. Still, I couldn’t help but wonder what she meant. When hadn’t I done right by Annetta? Had I done something to hurt her?
“Okay, where is she?” I asked.
“In her room,” she waved in the direction. “Now I’m gonna go have a little talk with your boy Mario and remind him why he needs to call regularly.” She walked past me, leaving the door open.
I found Annetta sitting on a bed in what I could only assume was her room. She wore shorts and a T-shirt, and her eyes were red, like she’d been crying.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Come in,” she said, waving me forward. “Have a seat. I’ll be right back.”
Like I could sit without knowing what had her so upset. I stood in the doorway, looking around her room. It looked different from my sister’s bedroom. Yes, Annetta’s walls were pink, but there were no magazine pictures of boy bands plastered across the walls, no clothes hanging everywhere, no vanity filled with makeup and shit. All Annetta had in her room was a dresser with a mirror, a bed, and a bookshelf full of paperbacks. I walked over and read the cover to one. Mystery.
Interesting. I didn’t know she was into mysteries. I must have scored a buttload of points by taking her to the escape room. So why was she so upset now? Before I could investigate further, Annetta returned carrying some sort of white stick. My stomach plummeted as she held it between us.
“What is that?” I asked, even though a part of me already knew.
“A pregnancy test. It’s positive. I’m… I’m pregnant.”
I looked from the stick to her face, and then back to the stick. “Are you sure? I thought you were on the pill.”
She nodded. “I checked twice, and the clinic confirmed it.”
Okay, now I needed to sit down. My legs shuffled until I felt the bed behind me. I collapsed. “How far along?”
Annetta stayed where she stood. “Almost four months.”
“Four months?” I asked. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“I didn’t know. I didn’t get morning sickness. But last week at work the smell of chicken cooking made me…” She swallowed. “It was bad. Then I realized I hadn’t had my period in… a while. Adona bought me a couple of tests, and here we are.”
I shook my head, unable to make sense of it. Although I shouldn’t be surprised, since we didn’t always use protection, I still was. She was having a baby. My baby. I was going to be a dad. The thought filled me with immeasurable pride and fear. “I don’t know what to say.”
She looked stricken. “I… I don’t expect anything from you. I know your work is complicated and you can’t… promise me tomorrow. I get that.” She wrapped her hands protectively around her stomach. “But… I… I heard his heartbeat, and I can’t abort him. I can do this. I know it’s going to be difficult, but I can—”
“It’s a boy?” I asked.
“They can’t tell yet. But I’ve been reading a bunch of books and they say morning sickness is worse with girls and since I didn’t have any… it’s just a guess. A hunch.”
She was rambling, and I could barely string three words together. Annetta was pregnant with my child. I wanted to shout it from the rooftops, but also hide it from the world. If my father or Don Pelino found out…
“Shit,” I said, standing.
Her face whipped around like I’d slapped her. “I’m not asking for anything from you, Dom. You don’t need to get angry, I’m only telling you because I thought… because I…”
She didn’t understand. I closed the distance between us and wrapped her in my arms. “It’s not that, Net. I need some time to process. I want to be involved, and I want to be with you, but I need to figure some things out.”
She nodded against my shoulder. “Yes. I know this is a lot to lay on you. I’m sorry.”
“Stop.” She still didn’t get it. “You have nothing to be sorry for. You’re having my fuckin’ baby.” I couldn’t suppress the smile that spread across my face. Despite all the challenges I knew we’d face, I was happy. Beyond happy.
She giggled, looking up at me through lashes still wet with tears. “You’re not mad?”
“No. I love you, Net. We’ll figure this out.”
She released a breath, her shoulders relaxing. “Thank you.”
Knowing she needed me as much as I needed her right then, I pulled her shirt over her head and unhooked her bra. Her breasts were bigger, fuller. I palmed them, noting how different they felt in my hands.
“They grew,” she said, blushing.
“They’re
still perfect.”
Next, I undid her shorts and slid them down, removing her panties at the same time. Her breath caught as my fingers stroked her clit. She threw back her head and let me play with her until I tugged her forward to join me on the bed.
“I don’t know how much time we have,” Annetta said, glancing at the clock on her dresser. “Papa should be home soon.”
It didn’t matter. She needed this. We both did. I laid her on her back and slid my pants down to my ankles, keeping the rest of my clothes on. I sucked on her clit until she was swollen and ready for me, and then I moved up her body until I got to her lips.
“I’m glad you’re having my baby,” I said. My hands lingered on her belly, feeling the little bump that was our child. “I love you, and I’ll love him. We got this. I promise.”
Trust and admiration shone in her eyes as she replied, “I love you so much.”
I buried my shaft inside her. Annetta squeezed her pussy around me and I picked up my pace. I fucked her until we got the release we both desperately needed.
Afterwards, I wrapped my arms around her stomach and held them both, wondering how I was gonna make good on my promise.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Annetta
THE MORNING AFTER I told Dominico about the baby, I was getting ready for work when someone knocked on the door. Papa had long since headed off to his own job, so I answered to find a beautiful woman—approximately Papa’s age—standing on my doorstep. Her dress managed to look both casual and expensive, probably out of some designer’s collection. Big dark curls with strands of silver framed her face, her cheekbones were high, her lips were red and plump, and intelligence shone in her dark eyes.
She studied me from head to toe before saying, “You must be Annetta. You’re even more lovely than he described.”
He? He who? While my brain was still forming questions, my manners kicked in. “Thank you. I—”
“Oh, I’m sorry. How thoughtless of me to not introduce myself first. I’m Rosalie Mariani, dear, Dom’s mother.”
I stood there like an idiot, wondering why she was on my doorstep. Dressed in my restaurant uniform with my hair pulled back in a bun, wasn’t the first impression I wanted to give his wealthy mafia family. Dominico should have warned me first. Self-conscious, I reached out to offer her a handshake. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Mariani. I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting anyone.”