by Cora Reilly
“No, I don’t. I’m waiting for the day when he finally finds a mistress he prefers to me.”
Dante inclined his head to show he understood. Then his eyes found mine. I tried to send him all the gratitude I was capable of with that one gaze. I was quite sure he could see it. “I’ll return to my work. I’m sure you and Bibiana have a lot to talk about.”
He turned around and strode back to his office, disappearing from our view. I linked arms with Bibi who was gaping at me. “I can’t believe he did that for you. He must really care about you.”
“He tried to help you. He saw your bruises.”
Bibi laughed. “He did it for you. It was written all over his face.” She paused, then quickly added. “Not that I mind. I’m just glad that he got rid of Tommaso for now.”
“Come on, let’s go into the living room. I’ll put in a movie and we’ll have a glass of wine. You deserve it. Do you need some Tylenol with it?”
Bibi grimaced. “Yes, please. I feel sore. I think Tommaso bruised my ribs.”
That was the last mentioning of what had happened with Tommaso today. We spent the rest of the night remembering our childhood and teenage years, laughing, and getting drunk.
***
The next day I regretted last night’s wine when a splitting headache woke me from sleep. I sat up, groaning. Pressing a palm against my forehead, I took a few deep breath, hoping it would help with the nausea. Something red caught my eye. A small parcel lay on Dante’s side of the bed. I snatched the card propped up against the parcel.
‘I would have given this to you last night but I didn’t want to wake you’ was written in neat script on the card. Delighted, I grabbed the present and unwrapped it. Inside the small velvet box rested a delicate whitegold necklace with an emerald pendant. I stumbled out of bed and hurried toward my vanity, holding it up against my eyes. The emerald had almost exactly the same color. That couldn’t have been a coincidence. I sank down on the chair and fastened the necklace around my neck with shaking hands.
***
I probably wouldn’t have gone to work at all that day – Leo could take care of everything without me – if I hadn’t told Frank to meet me there.
After we’d dropped Bibiana off at her home and I’d made her promise to call me the moment Tommaso was home, Enzo drove us to the casino and we went inside as we always did. Luckily for me Raffaele was screaming at one of the girls, which wasn’t a one time thing either, but today it was the distraction I needed. I turned to Enzo. “Could you please have a private word with Raffaele and make it clear that I don’t appreciate him manhandling our girls?” Enzo looked only too eager to comply.
He headed straight for Raffaele and shoved him into one of the private rooms. Leo was making a beeline for me but I shook my head and told him that I was busy. He seemed confused but didn’t try to stop me when I stepped into the elevator. Guilt almost stopped me in my tracks a couple of times. My secret meeting with Frank could be construed as a betrayal of Dante’s trust. After this morning’s considerate gift, the idea of going against him like that made me feel even worse. He seemed willing to try, and I was risking it all because of Frank.
Three minutes later, I hastened away from the storehouse. I glanced around my surroundings nervously; not only because I worried about being followed but also because this was a deserted and creepy area. It was already getting dark, which didn’t help my anxiety at all. At least I was wearing ballet flats so I could have run if someone attacked me. In the distance, leaning against the wall of another empty warehouse, I could make out a tall figure. I hurried toward it, then slowed because it was hard to make out much. “Frank?” I whispered. “Is that you?”
He took a step away from the wall, looking as nervous as I felt. “Hey Valentina.”
I bridged the remaining distance between us. “What’s going on? Why do you keep showing up in front of my home? Do you want the Outfit to find out about you?”
Frank rubbed his hair, his eyes darting around. “Of course not.” His obvious nervousness was making me nervous in turn. “I need to talk to you.”
“Then talk. I don’t have much time. Don’t you realize what kind of risk we’re taking by talking right now?”
“I think it’s dangerous that you agreed to marry Dante Cavallaro.”
I was taken aback. That wasn’t what I’d expected when he’d told me he wanted to talk. “Why do you care? Your connection to the Outfit died with Antonio.” I realized a moment too late how insensitive that sounded, but Frank didn’t seem to notice. He was busy checking our surroundings, especially the darkness spreading out behind us.
“Can you stop that?” I asked impatiently. “You’re making me nervous.”
“Sorry. I’m not used to sneaking around in dark alleys. That’s Antonio’s thing.”
Was he still not over him? His words made me believe it. Maybe that was why he was here. Maybe he couldn’t let go of his former life and I was the only connection he had to it. “It wasn’t my decision to marry Dante. You should know that marriages are often decided by other people for reasons of power or strategy.”
“You don’t love him.”
“I’m not going to discuss my feelings with you, Frank. What do you want?”
“Did you tell Cavallaro about Antonio and me?”
“I told him that Antonio was gay.”
“Why did you do that?” Frank asked angrily, taking a few steps in my direction, startling me with his outburst, but not enough to back away. I was used to other kinds of men. Frank really wasn’t scary enough.
“That’s none of your business.”
“But you promised Antonio to keep his secret!”
“I know, but he’s dead, Frank, and I’m trying to move on. If Antonio were still alive, I’d take his secret into my grave, but the truth can’t hurt him anymore. And Dante won’t tell anyone in the Outfit anyway.”
“He won’t?” Frank asked hopefully. “What about me? You didn’t tell him my name?” The anxiety returned to his face with full force.
“No. I won’t. You are safe, but for it to stay that way, you need to stop hanging around in our street. It’s only stupid luck that none of Dante’s men has noticed you yet. And when they do, you’ll be in huge trouble. So do us both a favor and move on.”
“I can’t,” Frank said quietly. “Don’t you miss him? Don’t you want him back? Wouldn’t you do anything to have him back?”
“You should really leave. This doesn’t get us anywhere. I promise you are safe.”
Frank gripped my arm stopping me from walking away. “Valentina--”
“Hands off,” a cool voice drawled from the shadows and I let out a scream. Frank whirled around and tried to run away but Enzo was there and pulled him into a headlock. Dante appeared beside me and grasped my arm in a steely grip.
He nodded toward the door to the warehouse. Enzo dragged Frank toward it, despite his struggling.
Dante glared at me. “So this is what you do when I’m not around? Meeting with other men?”
“No!” I protested, horrified that he would think that. “It’s not like you think.”
“He’s been lurking around the house twice now, Boss,” Enzo said, then grunted when Frank’s knee hit him in the groin.
“Explain,” Dante snarled. Enzo was still trying to stop Frank from kicking him. Frank was putting up a surprisingly good fight.
“It’s Frank,” I said quickly, self-preservation overriding my desire to protect Frank.
Dante’s grip on my arm loosened. “Antonio’s lover.”
That caught Enzo’s attention. He knew Antonio. The Outfit wasn’t that big of an organization that Made Men didn’t know each other.
Suddenly shots rang out from somewhere. Enzo cried out and clutched his arm, releasing Frank in the process. More shots rang out. One hit the wall two feet above my head. Dante pushed me to the ground and crouched in front of me, his own weapon drawn and fired into the direction where the shots were coming
from. Enzo pulled his own gun but his right hand was useless and it was obvious that he wasn’t used to shooting with his left hand. Frank was running as fast as his legs could carry him away from us toward the shadows. Dante pointed his gun at him. I jerked his hand away when he pulled the trigger and the bullet hit the ground, instead of Frank. “Valentina,” Dante snarled, taking aim again, but Frank had disappeared into the darkness. Dante glanced at Enzo, who was clutching his bleeding arm, muttering under his breath.
“What the fuck was that?” Dante asked, eyes blazing with fury as they held my own.
“I don’t know! I thought he was alone. Frank doesn’t even know anyone who can shoot a gun.”
“You should have let me shoot him. Never interfere like that again.”
“He’s innocent. He doesn’t deserve death.”
“Bullshit. That guy lay a trap and you fucking walked into it,” Enzo muttered.
“What do you mean?” I asked carefully. Dante shook his head. “Haven’t you wondered why he wanted to meet you? Maybe he’s been approached by the Russians and agreed to help them. They’d love to kill you.”
“Frank wouldn’t do that.”
“Are you sure?” No, I wasn’t. “The Bratva can be very convincing. Or maybe they offered him a substantial amount of money. Money makes sinners out of most saints.”
Enzo held up his phone. “Called reinforcement.”
“Come on,” Dante said, straightening up and holding out his hand for me. I took it and let him pull me to my feet.
“Do you really think it was a trap? I got the feeling Frank was lonely and wanted to talk to someone about Antonio.”
“Someone shot at us,” Dante said simply. I couldn’t argue with that. And Frank had definitely run in the direction of the shooters. Slowly I was starting to understand why Dante didn’t trust anyone.
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly, but Dante wasn’t looking my way. More of his men were running toward us from the direction of the casino. He barked orders at them and they spread out in the area to search for our attackers.
“Take Enzo to see our Doc,” Dante told another man, despite Enzo’s protests. Then Dante turned to me. “We’re going home now.”
I shivered at the anger in his voice. Dante urged me forward with a hand against my lower back. He didn’t talk as he led me toward the car, nor during the ride home. I kept glancing his way, trying to decide in how much trouble I was. “I’m really sorry.”
He ignored me, but a muscle in his jaw twitched. I turned back toward the passenger window. Dante parked the car in our garage and got out immediately. I followed him into the house. I could practically feel his fury burning my back as he walked behind me. I stepped into the bedroom.
“I’m really sorry,” I tried again, then gasped when Dante threw the door shut and pressed me against it. I was sandwiched between his muscled body and the door. I was startled and confused but not scared. Dante was obviously careful not to hurt me.
“Why do you keep disobeying me, Valentina?” He shoved up my skirt and pulled my butt roughly against his groin, and his rock-hard erection. Wetness pooled between my legs. “I don’t know,” I said, trying to hide my excitement.
“That’s the wrong answer.” Dante pushed my panties – I wasn’t wearing tights, only suspenders – aside and slipped two fingers into me. Before I had time to articulate another answer, Dante replaced his fingers with his cock, slamming into me in one fierce stroke before he started to fuck me against the door. I was pretty sure he realized that was as far from a punishment as it could possibly get.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I quickly figured out that Dante fucking me against the door wasn’t his idea of punishment. That came in the days that followed. Dante treated me even colder than before and I barely got to see him because he was too busy looking for Frank and his accomplices. He didn’t even seek me out at night anymore, and even though I was too proud to admit it to him, my body longed for him to touch me again.
***
One afternoon, about one week after my messed up meeting with Frank, I encountered Rocco Scuderi in the lobby of our house. “Valentina, good to see you,” he said on his way to the front door.
I smiled, although I was surprised. Scuderi always treated me with politeness and respect, but I didn’t have a personal relationship to him like I had with his wife, or with Aria.
“I have a favor to ask of you,” he said.
“Of course.” It was unusual for a Consigliere to approach the wife of his Boss and ask her for a favor, but he was also my uncle, so maybe that changed things.
“You know my daughter Gianna is supposed to marry Matteo Vitiello, but she’s still a bit hesitant about the marriage.”
From what I heard, hesitant wasn’t even beginning to cover Gianna’s feelings about her wedding to Matteo, but I nodded anyway.
“I thought maybe you could talk to her?”
I’d never been very close to Gianna so the request surprised me. “Wouldn’t it be better if Aria talked to Gianna? After all she’s married to another Vitiello?”
“Gianna won’t listen to her sister. I think someone who isn’t immediate family might have a better chance to get through to her.” I was Gianna’s cousin, but of course he had a point.
“I can try, of course, but I can’t promise that she’ll listen to what I have to say.”
“Try is all you can do,” he said, looking almost resigned.
“Is there anything in particular you’d like me to address?”
“Maybe you can tell her that marriage doesn’t mean she’ll be trapped in a golden cage? I mean, look at you, you’re even allowed to work.”
I did, but I was the huge exemption. Gianna would know that as well. And even if Dante started pushing his men to let their wives work, that wouldn’t help Gianna. She’d be living under the Vitiello’s rule in New York. “I’ll do my best.”
“Thank you.”
“Why don’t you and your family come to dinner tomorrow?”
“That’s a great idea. That way Gianna won’t get suspicious and you can breach the subject casually.” We made out a time before he inclined his head in thanks once more and walked out.
I closed the door and headed toward the kitchen. Zita was preparing dinner – Canneloni filled with ricotta from the looks of it – when I stepped in. Gaby was ironing Dante’s shirts in a corner of the kitchen, far enough from the cooking that there was no risk of the fabric absorbing the smell.
“Zita, I invited the Scuderis for dinner tomorrow.”
Zita pursed her lips. “A bit more time to prepare would have been nice. I need to go grocery shopping, figure out a menu and then cook everything.”
“I know, but you won’t be cooking.”
Zita’s lips parted but no word came out. Gaby had stopped ironing to stare at me as well.
“I’m going to take care of everything. I used to cook frequently in my first marriage and I want to prepare dinner for our guests.”
“Are you sure that’s wise? They expect a certain standard.”
“Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.”
“And what are you going to cook?” Zita asked skeptically.
I smiled. “That’s a surprise. Now I’ll let you get back to your work.” With a wink toward Gaby who was openly gawking, I left the kitchen and headed for Dante’s office and knocked.
“Come in.”
I slipped inside. Dante was busy cleaning his guns. They were arranged on a towel on his desk. “I invited Rocco Scuderi and his family for dinner for tomorrow night. I hope that’s alright with you?”
He barely spared me a look. He was obviously still angry with me. “I assume this is so you can talk with his daughter Gianna?”
“He asked you first, didn’t he?”
“I’m your husband. Rocco wanted to make sure it was okay to approach you.”
Sometimes their unwritten rules and traditions drove me up the walls. “Of course.”
&n
bsp; “Don’t forget to tell Zita and Gaby, so they can prepare everything for our guests.” He rubbed a spot of grease at the barrel of his gun.
“I already did. But I will cook dinner myself.”
That made him raise his eyes, surprise flickering across his face. “You can cook?”
“Yes. I used to cook often in my first marriage,” I said, and that was obviously the wrong thing to say because Dante’s expression darkened again. “You haven’t found Frank yet?”
“No. We haven’t. He’s probably gone into hiding if he has any sense.”
I nodded, then hovered next to the door. I could tell the discussion was over for Dante but I hated how strained things had become between us. I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but then I lost my nerve and left without another word.
***
I hadn’t even realized how much I missed cooking until I stood behind the stove again. Zita was a constant presence at my back, hawk-eyes watching my every move, but I was confident in what I was doing. I had cooked every part of today’s meal countless times. Vitello Tonnato for starters, followed by Saltimbocca with homemade gnocchi and a green salad, and at last, Tiramisu. As I worked in silence beside Gaby and Zita, I could occasionally glimpse the hint of approval in the older woman’s expression. I mixed everything for the sauce that accompanied the cooked veal for the starter before turning to Zita. “Would you try it? I’d like to know if it’s good.”
I knew it was how it was supposed to be but I wanted to show Zita that I appreciated her input. She stopped chopping the endive for the salad and walked over to me, wiping her hands on her apron. I took a step back as she dipped a spoon into the tuna sauce. She nodded slowly before leveling her brown eyes on me. “Good.” I knew then that things would turn out okay between us. I smiled and chanced a quick glance at the clock. “I have to change. I can’t welcome our guests in stained clothes.”
“We’ll take care of the rest,” Gaby assured me.
“Thanks,” I said as I hurried upstairs, feeling better than I had in a while.