Omerta (The DeLuca Family #1)

by K. A. Ware

  “But you just said—“

  “I lied. Just like you,” I spotted a baseball bat in the corner, snatching it up, I beat him until my arms couldn’t lift the bat anymore.

  Again, I found myself staring down at the bludgeoned body of a man that had crossed me. The scene was much the same as the one in my kitchen all those months ago, and again, I felt no guilt, no remorse whatsoever. Instead the tingling sensation of satisfaction prickled across my skin. This anger inside of me, when unleashed, was lethal. It felt good, cathartic even. It was at that point I started to realize that this was who I was, it was in my blood.

  Jesus, what the hell is wrong with me?

  This was the first time I’d killed without being in a defensive situation. It was with intent. It was murder.

  …

  A month later we were on our way home. I had graduated but decided not to walk. I didn’t need the fanfare, and I had gotten my degree, which was all I cared about. As soon as we landed Sal was going to take Gina to a rehab facility, ninety days to dry-out and get some counseling. With any luck when she came back for the last part of summer she would be her normal self and ready to go back to school on her own.

  I reached over and tucked Gina’s hand into my own. She turned her head and smiled at me, she looked like hell. I would have preferred for her to go to rehab a month ago but she insisted that she finish out final exams and do rehab closer to home. I understood. She didn’t want to be that far away from family, and even though we wouldn’t be able to see her or contact her for the first thirty days just knowing we were close was a comfort.

  “Love you,” I whispered.

  “Love you, too,” she whispered back and closed her eyes.

  Chapter 17

  Carlo

  “They’re here,” Al announced as he stood in the doorway of my office.

  “Thank you,” I said as I stood from my desk, buttoning my suit jacket and heading out to the foyer to greet Mia. I hadn’t seen her in months. Although she hadn’t come home often during her time at college this was the longest I had gone without seeing her since we met over three years ago. I was startled to realize that I had missed her. I hadn’t missed anyone since I was a child, but the nervous squeeze of my stomach and pang of hollowness in my chest whenever someone mentioned her was telling of just how much Mia had wedged herself past my hard exterior and into my heart. It was dangerous to care for her the way I did, I knew that, but I couldn’t bring myself to let her go.

  I came around the corner to the foyer just as the front doors opened and Mia stepped through. She was magnificent, not that she hadn’t always been beautiful but she had become confident in her time away. Now, just a week shy from her twenty-first birthday, I could barely reconcile the scared and feisty teenage girl she had been when I first met her with the elegant woman before me.

  I felt my feet unglue from the floor where I had stopped as soon as I saw her and take me forward to meet her. When she saw me she broke out in a smile that I knew matched my own and ran full force at me. I caught her up and spun her around as she giggled.

  The smell of orange blossoms engulfed me and I squeezed her tighter. I had no idea what her plans were now that she was finished with school but I knew with certainty that I didn’t want her leaving again. I had allowed her to move half way across the country for school because it had been her dream but I would do whatever it took to keep her here with me now that she was back in my arms.

  “How’s my college graduate?” I asked as I set her down.

  “Glad to be home,” she said with a sigh.

  “Good,” I said smiling down at her, “Now come, let’s have a drink and you can catch me up.”

  When I lifted my head to lead her to my office I noticed Al and Angelo still in the doorway. Angelo averted his eyes as soon as I looked up and headed up the stairs with a couple of suitcases. Al however, was staring at me with a curious look on his face. Ice slid down my spine at the realization that I had just shown my hand, I had let my guard down and allowed someone to see how much I cared for her. I exposed my weakness and I had no idea how I was going to conceal it again. I clenched my jaw at my thoughtlessness.

  “What the hell are you waiting for? Go help Angelo with the bags,” I barked out at him, my tone much more fierce than the situation normally would have warranted.

  “Yes, sir,” he said with a nod.

  I would have to remind him what happens to people when they stick their noses in my business.

  Chapter 18

  Mia

  The next two months flew by. Carlo took me to New York for my birthday. We walked all over the city, eating the best food, seeing the best shows, and shopping at the best boutiques. Over the years I had gotten over my issue with spending Carlo’s money. It was a lost cause anyways, may as well enjoy it.

  It was the perfect birthday and having a solid week of just Carlo and me was absolute bliss and absolute torture at the same time. If anything, the trip had caused me to fall even harder for him. He was so present and attentive. Since it was just us, there was no shortage of physical contact, something he avoided when we were around his men. A kiss on the crown of my head, a hand at the small of my back, or an arm on the back of my chair.

  All the small touches when separate were nothing, completely inconsequential, but a full week of them had left my head fuzzy and my heart full of stupid hopes. While we were gone Carlo had seemed happy, light even, an easy smile on his face and kind eyes for me.

  …

  On our last night in New York Carlo, took me to Sparks Steak House, near Grand Central Station. The food was amazing and the wine flowed freely. Unlike so many times before, Carlo didn’t rent out a private room for our meal, instead we were seated on the main floor of the restaurant with a front row view of the hustle and bustle of one of New York’s best restaurants. We talked about everything and nothing, enjoying our food while we joked and laughed. If I hadn’t known better I would think it was a date, it certainly felt that way. We were having such a fantastic time we didn’t notice that the place had started to empty until we were the last occupants. We made our way back to the hotel and up to the penthouse where we were staying. The large apartment had a sitting room as soon as you walked in and two adjacent bedrooms.

  I traipsed into the sitting room, still laughing about something Carlo had said, and collapsed onto the couch. Removing my shoes, I called out to Carlo, “Do we have anymore wine?” I asked, I was having so much fun with this relaxed version of Carlo I didn’t want the night to end.

  “Yeah, it’s behind the bar, I’ll grab a bottle.”

  He approached with an uncorked bottle of wine and two glasses, and we continued our conversation through two bottles of wine. At some point I had slid off of the couch and onto the plush carpet, now sprawled out, flat on my back in the middle of the room. Carlo was in the same position, our faces just a foot apart with our bodies stretched out in opposite directions.

  “Tell me something. I’ve tried to figure it out over the years but I still don’t get it. You’re a completely different person when you’re with Gina, fun and carefree, but when I met you, well actually before I met you I noticed you were quiet and reserved. Which is still different from the way you are at home with me. I guess what I’m asking is why?”

  I laughed, we were both drunk at this point, which was painfully obvious by Carlo’s rambling line of questioning. “I grew up terrified of my father, so I tried to be as invisible as possible. I guess I thought that if he didn’t notice me, if I was perfect and quiet, I would somehow avoid his cruelty. It took me years of being friends with Gina and seeing how her family was together to realize that my home life wasn’t normal, and it took even longer to relax enough to let my long suppressed personality come out, at least when I was with Gina. She was my safe place for a long time, the only person I could be myself around. She gave me strength and confidence that I’d never been allowed before.”

  “What changed though? You weren’t
scared of your father in that basement three years ago.”

  I laughed without humor, “No, I suppose I wasn’t. I guess part of me knew that he couldn’t hurt me anymore and the rage I’d been holding in bubbled to the surface. It’s not like I was never angry before, I was, but I was also smart enough to know that I couldn’t do anything about it when it came to him. My father used physical force to obtain emotional and psychological power over others. I know that now, thanks to my psych studies in college, but back then I didn’t know why he did it. I blamed myself for not being good enough.

  “Things changed for me when my mom lost the baby, I think my dad felt guilty so he stopped taking his anger out on her and turned to me. I was used to the occasional backhand and the not so occasional put down, but what I hadn’t experienced before was the brutality he could inflict when he was really angry. I was about fourteen at the time and I stayed my course for about two years, keeping my head down and avoiding him at all costs, but by the time I was sixteen the disgust I felt for him was indescribable. I started lashing out at others, taking my frustrations from home out on anyone I could.

  “It kind of came to a head at this party Gina and I went to the summer before junior year. I ended up getting into a fight with a girl that was talking shit about Gina and I messed her up pretty bad. At the time it felt good, great even, to finally release some of that shit I’d been holding in, but afterwards the guilt set in. I was terrified that I was turning into my father, that I somehow inherited his sadistic qualities and was one step away from becoming just like him. After that I went back to being the quiet one, trying desperately to keep a hold on this anger that I had gotten a taste of. I was doing well until you decided to have me dragged into that basement.”

  “I should say I’m sorry about that, but I’m not,” Carlo said, a grin pulling at the corner of his mouth.

  “I’m not either, you got me out of that situation. You gave me a home, a family. But I still struggle with the idea of becoming like him.”

  “You’re not like your father, Mia. You’re compassionate and thoughtful. You care deeply about the people in your life, and he didn’t give a shit about anyone but himself. Yes, you have a temper, but you don’t dole out unnecessary punishment, you don’t take your anger out on innocent people. Sometimes we need to be brutal, and sometimes we need to be soft. You can’t be one or the other all the time and survive in the world, there has to be balance.”

  “I guess you’re right,” I sighed.

  “I’m always right, you’d do well to remember that,” he laughed.

  “What about you? You never talk about your past, tell me something.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Tell me about your parents,” I said, knowing full well that a drunk Carlo was the only way I was going to get any sort of insight into his past.

  He let out a long sigh before he started, “I was an only child so that meant that one day I would inherit the empire that my grandfather had built. My father, the bastard he was, took that to mean that I needed to be groomed for this life. To become the mirror image of himself, ruthless and uncaring. He called them lessons, but it was just cruelty. If I argued with him or contradicted him in any way he would beat me until I submitted to his will.

  “I was eight years old the first time I witnessed him murder a man. When I cried, because I was an eight year old boy with no clue what was going on, he beat me. Told me men don’t cry and that I needed to grow up because one day I would have to do exactly what he did, that one day I would be exactly like him. I fought it though, I vowed to myself that I would never be like him, even when I was forced to do unspeakable things I would never be as depraved as him.

  “I knew my father was a bad man. My mother had tried to protect me for as long as she could but Vincenzo DeLuca was an intolerant man. Time and time again I watched as he backhanded my mother, and screamed filthy names at her, and time and time again I watched her pick herself up just in time to get knocked back down. She was a strong woman, my mother. She tried to offset the bad with good. Tried to undo some of the teachings of my father, and I loved her for it. She tried to teach me that just because you had to do bad things didn’t mean you had to be a bad person. She would take me to church and charity events in an attempt to save my soul, I think, but she couldn’t change the course I had been on since birth.

  “The first man I ever killed had borrowed money from my father, indirectly of course, and when it came time to pay he refused and even went so far as to threaten my father. That was cause for immediate termination, and my father thought that it was the perfect opportunity for his latest lesson. He didn’t tell me where we were going, just saying we had some business to take care of and demanding me to get in the car. I had just turned sixteen. When we got into town he took me in the back entrance to one of his clubs and down into a basement where a man was tied to a chair and surrounded by several of my father’s men,” he scoffed, “I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree does it?” When I didn’t respond he continued, “My father explained what the man had done as he placed a revolver in my hand, telling me to ‘take care of it’. Inside I was terrified. Despite the things my father had demanded of me over the years I still felt like I was me, but I knew as soon as I pulled that trigger I would forever be the man he made me.”

  “But you did it, right?” I asked.

  “Yes, I did. I couldn’t let him see weakness. I had to take a life to save my own, because if I embarrassed my father in front of his men then I was liable to never see the light of day again. When we came home that night something had shifted, one look at my face and my mother knew. Her heartbreak was palpable, with the pull of a trigger I had just crushed any hope she’d had for me to get away from my father’s grasp. The next day she got on a plane to Italy with the excuse of visiting family and left me in the hands of the monster we’d fought against for so many years. I only saw my mother three more times before she died, and each time her disappointment and despair cut me deeper than the last.”

  “She abandoned you?”

  “Trust me, for years I resented her for it, but as I got older I realized it was probably more self-preservation than anything. The only reason she’d stayed as long as she did was because she was fighting for me, and I’d just thrown it all away. I’d let my father take control of me. There was nothing left for her to fight for.”

  “What happened after she left?”

  “I became an enforcer, started working for my father full time and learned how the business worked. What my parents didn’t realize is that I was still my own person. I refused to let my father burn away my will, I had too much of my mother in me. I wasn’t the sheep he wanted me to be, following blindly in his wake and carrying out his bidding without thought.

  “As I got older I became increasingly critical of his decisions, noticing the accounts were dwindling and less and less money was going back in to buy more product. He was a selfish man, I had always known that, but his greed and gambling addiction had gotten him into a mess of trouble. When I discovered he’d been burning through money faster than we could make it for years I confronted him. After all, this was to be my empire one day and I would be damned if he bankrupted it before I ever got control. I told him it was time for him to step down and allow me to take over. Naturally his embarrassment manifested itself in anger and violence and he did the one thing he could to try and break me.”

  “What did he do?”

  “He killed my mother. He didn’t come out and say he was the one responsible but from the glint in his eye when he told me she’d been in a car accident and didn’t make it, I knew. The thing was he didn’t break me, instead he gave me even more reason to fight. I refused to become his pawn, instead I destroyed him. I knew that to end him and take control of the family would mean that I had to relinquish a part of my soul in order to become the monster I needed to be. With my mother gone there wasn’t a reason for me to need a soul anyways so I did what my fath
er had done before me and sold my humanity for dominance, power and money.”

  “Carlo, if you didn’t have a soul you wouldn’t have taken me in, given me all that you have. You have to know that, right?”

  “Now I know that, but at the time and for many years after that, I didn’t. When you came kicking and screaming into my life I was in awe, that foul mouth and all that passion and anger,” he chuckled, “I wasn’t expecting you.” He turned his head to study my face, his last words softly floating in the air around us.

  “I wasn’t expecting you, either.” I whispered. We stared at each other for a long time, only a few inches separating us. I wanted to kiss him. He’d just poured out his deepest secrets and fears and all I could think about was leaning in and tasting the wine that stained his lips.

  “I think it’s time for bed,” Carlo said suddenly. Jumping up from his position on the floor to help me up. “We have an early flight in the morning.”

  “Yeah, you’re right, enough daddy issues for one night.”

  Carlo chuckled, “Good night, sweetheart,” he said kissing my forehead before we went our separate ways to bed.

  …

  I had thought that our drunken conversation in New York had caused something to shift in our relationship, but once we got back to the house things returned to the way they were before. Carlo was still caring but kept a more reserved distance from me, especially in front of his men. While I knew Carlo didn’t feel the same way about me that I did him, I knew that he did care for me. I also knew that he saw his affections for me as a weakness and was cognizant of how he behaved in front of his men. Though it had been years since my father and his other men had betrayed him but Carlo was still weary, almost to the point of paranoia. I understood where he was coming from, but that didn’t mean I had to like it.

  I had no idea what I wanted to do now that school was over. I considered a graduate degree but I was burned out on school, at least for the time being. It only took me about a week after getting back from New York to start crawling the walls, begging Carlo to give me something to do. If I was going to be home for the foreseeable future he might as well put me to work.