by Bethany-Kris
Who knows what might have done it?
She wouldn’t have needed to know his name—she did but only because she had found his picture on one of the many sites she scoured for information—to know the one man just had to be Andino’s father. They looked like father and son, although the man sitting at her bar had a bit of salt peppering his dark hair.
The men thought they were being sly.
They thought she didn’t notice them.
Not once had she engaged either of the two other than to call a server down to fill their drinks when they first arrived an hour ago. She hadn’t even bothered to go down and engage them for that, either.
What would be the point?
“Quite a place,” she heard the one man say.
Dante, she now knew.
According to what she had found, he would be Andino’s uncle … and the boss of the family. Or … organization. Depending on where you looked, someone called the Marcellos something different. It varied.
“I like it,” Giovanni—Andino’s father—said. “Reminds me of that club my mentor used to run—remember that?”
Dante laughed, and nodded. “I do, actually. That was quite a place.”
Haven wondered … did these men know that their entire lives were on display in the recesses of the internet? That with the right keywords, and a deep enough search, there were forums dedicated to these men, and the organization they were running in New York. Did they know that even their wives had been profiled—their children?
Oh, sure, a lot of it was speculation—some of it was pulled from public record when a Marcello associate was taken into custody, or whatever else. But a lot of it was just people watching them, and keeping track because who else was doing it?
No one, apparently.
Andino’s family was a whole empire—a criminal empire—and yet, from the surface, they looked like law-abiding, God-fearing, charity-donating people.
They looked like good people.
“All right, enough of this, I suppose,” she heard Dante say.
“Just … she doesn’t know, Dante.”
“Shouldn’t she, then?”
Oh, good.
Now they were talking about her.
Haven wasn’t the type to shy away, and she’d long since figured out what these two men were doing in her business, and exactly why they had come. Her research—if one could even call it that—had allowed her another realization as she looked over every mob wife profiled that stood next to these men.
Common things bonded them together.
Lineage.
Ethnicity.
Standing.
Respect.
Religion.
More.
Things that Haven wasn’t—not Italian, Catholic, or affiliated to their life and business. She was nothing that these men’s wives were. Not in the slightest. And maybe things were starting to add up.
Haven moved down the bar, grabbing two beers—one for Dante, and one for Andino’s father. She figured they had come in here to scope her out because of her involvement with Andino.
And if they wanted a conversation … well, she could give them one.
On her terms.
Both men glanced her way as Haven popped the tops off the beers, and slid them across the bar. Dante didn’t touch his—Giovanni was quick to reach for the bottle, and tip it in her direction with a kind smile.
“Grazie, Haven,” Andino’s father said.
“Thanks for using my name, I guess.”
The man smirked.
Dante beside him, however, kept his face passive and unreadable. “You act like you know us.”
She shrugged. “He used my name—you act like you know me.”
“That could be explained—”
“Except let’s cut the shit, and get down to what you came here for, Dante Marcello.”
The man stiffened on the stool even as his brother beside him grinned, and stared down into his bottle of beer.
“I suppose I can see why my nephew took an interest in you, Haven Murphy. You certainly don’t seem like the … average woman.”
“Neither does your wife,” Haven returned. “Suspected Queen Pin that built her business from the ground up starting in Italy, right?”
If her question surprised Dante, he didn’t show it. In fact, he didn’t even blink.
She turned on Giovanni with a pointed finger, saying, “And your wife …”
“Kim,” Giovanni said. “Don’t call her Kimberlynn, she hates it. It’s stuffy.”
Haven nodded. “Kim, then. Vegas affiliated, right? That’s where she came from.”
“She did.”
“Gio,” Dante murmured.
“What, she knows anyway?”
“Yes, but how.”
The two men looked at her.
Haven smiled. “Do you know that some of the men in your family actually have fan clubs on the internet? There are forums dedicated to following you, and tracking your life. Your daughter’s birth, Dante, was announced in a dark web forum before even the New York Times announced it in the paper.”
That made them blink.
Haven laughed.
“But don’t get a fucking complex over the whole fan club thing,” Haven said, “because as I have come to learn, you are just one family—one organization—of many. And those who follow you seem to know it, too.”
“We did know about the forums,” Giovanni said after a second or two had passed. “They’re harmless, and a lot of what they post is harmless.”
“Fascinating,” Haven deadpanned. “What do you want to know about me?”
Dante smiled—slow and cold. “Nothing, sweetheart.”
Her gaze cut to him. “I beg your pardon? You clearly came here because you wanted something from me, likely because you know I’m involved with Andino. I take it that’s a problem for a few reasons, and none that I care to get in to at the moment. So, please don’t treat me like I’m stupid, or—”
“Haven Murphy,” Dante murmured. “Twenty-six, born on September eighth born to Neil and Stacey Murphy. Do you want the time of your birth, too?”
Haven blinked. “Four in the morning.”
“Four-oh-two, actually.”
“My parents always just told me four.”
Dante shrugged. “That’s what the records say. They also tell me you were quite a student—top of your class, and accepted into every university you applied to. I know you took over this business here two years ago for your father when your mother’s health failed. I know you took out a loan to pay off his debts, but never told him. Was that why you turned it into a strip club—for the money?”
“Sex sells,” Haven replied, trying to keep her tone level.
“It does.” Dante sighed, and folded his arms over his chest. “I also know their street address and zip code in Florida—I know the name of the doctor your mother goes to see every six months to make sure her cancer hasn’t come back. I know the name of the kindergarten teacher who sings Maria’s ABC’s to her every day. So, no, donna, there is very little I don’t know about you, and there is nothing you can tell me that I want to know, anyway.”
Giovanni cleared his throat beside Dante.
Haven, however, never broke her gaze. “How long have I been seeing Andino?”
Dante chuckled. “Are you testing me? Since August. It’s January now. You do the math.”
“I don’t need to. Did you come here to say something to me, then? If so, do it and get the fuck out.”
Dante glanced at Giovanni. “She is interesting, though.”
Giovanni ignored his brother, and gave his attention to Haven. “My apologies. We meant no harm; we were just—”
“Curious?” she asked.
“Our family is … well, you know, don’t you?”
“Not because he told me, though.”
Christ.
She couldn’t hide the heat in her voice even if she tried. And she had been doing so damn well at seeming
calm and in control, too.
Damn.
Giovanni nodded. “I see.”
“Andino is part of a legacy that I don’t expect you to understand,” Dante said, standing from the stool and fixing his jacket. “He may think he can do whatever he pleases as long as the rest of us are unaware as to his activities, but that isn’t the case. It was nice to meet you, Haven. You likely won’t see me again.”
“I can’t say that would be a bad thing,” she returned. “And I won’t apologize for letting you know it, either.”
Dante smiled, and then he just … walked away.
Just like that.
Giovanni was quick to stand from his stool, too, but he didn’t immediately leave. “I am sorry for this. My wife mentioned seeing you at our son’s home, and I passed the message along. I didn’t think this would cause any trouble.”
Haven arched a brow. “Do I look troubled to you?”
“You look pissed, actually. Sad, too.”
“One is for your show here with your brother. The other one isn’t. Don’t worry about me. I get along just fine. As I am sure you know considering how much you already know about me.”
Giovanni glanced away. “Can I assume, based on the what you said about Andino keeping his business and this family private from you, that you’re not aware of the duty and responsibility my son is facing?”
No, she didn’t have a clue.
“That would be a fair assumption,” Haven replied, not unkindly.
“You should ask him, then,” he told her. “And when you do, let him know that his father said the things we find worth keeping are rarely easy. That doesn’t mean he should bend to the same expectations every other man has for this—he is not every other man.”
Haven blinked. “I don’t—”
“Understand, yeah, I know. You don’t have to. He does.”
• • •
“I’m sorry.”
It was the first thing Andino said as he joined Haven on a park bench just a few steps away from where they had randomly encountered each other the first time all those many months ago. He spoke his apology softly—with genuine remorse—even as he handed over a vanilla latte. Her favorite kind; he just remembered.
“Is that apology an in general kind of thing, or are you apologizing for something specific?” Haven asked.
Andino sighed, and rested back on the bench to watch Snaps sniff the walkway. “Both, I guess. I have a lot to apologize for, and something happened yesterday that needs its own apology. Which do you want to start with?”
“Everything,” she said.
“All right.”
“And nothing at all,” she added.
Andino chuckled. “Yeah, I know that feeling. I have to say, though, had that been me yesterday and people cornered me, I would not have been as calm as you were when you called me afterward.”
Haven shrugged. “You didn’t know they were going to do it, so.”
“Knowing when they would do it is a no on my end. Knowing that at some eventual point, what happened was likely—yeah, I probably should have known that.”
“You didn’t think to warn me?”
“If I warned you, then I would have needed to tell you the rest, too.”
Yes, speaking of that …
Haven glanced over at him. “I changed my mind. I don’t want an apology yet—start with the other stuff.”
Andino smirked. “Should have expected that, huh?”
“What else did you expect?”
“I don’t know, Haven.”
“Why didn’t you tell me the truth?” she asked. “About … your family, and the rest, I mean. Didn’t you think I deserved to know who I was sleeping with—that you come from a long line of criminals?”
“Is that all you see me—or even them—as? Just a criminal?”
Haven glanced down at her clenched hands resting around the latte in her lap. “You know I don’t.”
How could she?
She was well aware that there was far more to Andino than his last name, and the legacy his family carried with them. She knew that part of him far better than she knew the man who was apparently a mafia capo.
Andino’s gaze drifted to Snaps again, but he didn’t stay quiet for long. “You don’t know this, but you came into my life at a point when everything around me had just been entirely upended. The future I wanted was no longer mine—a different path was chosen for me. So, maybe when I was with you, I didn’t need to worry about being a Marcello, or all the changes happening in my life. I only had to worry about you and me, and this thing we were doing. You didn’t know about the rest.”
“And you liked that.”
“You could say that, yeah.”
“You liked me being naive to—”
“You’re anything but naive, Haven.”
“To you, I was.”
Andino shook his head. “You knew something was up, regardless of what you want to say right now. You knew, but you chose to ignore it, or excuse it. That was your choice, and I don’t have anything to say about it either way.”
Fuck him.
Fuck him for being right.
“Will you tell me what you mean—about the future thing?” she asked.
She swore Andino clenched his jaw so hard that she heard his teeth crunch. And yet, he never changed from his aloof, calm demeanor, and he didn’t look away from his wandering dog. Not that Snaps was going to go anywhere. The dog never misbehaved. She figured that was probably just easier for Andino.
“What did you learn?” he asked instead of answering. “About my family, I mean.”
“What you are—who they are.”
“Dante?” he asked.
“Your uncle.”
Andino nodded. “Him, yep.”
“He heads the organization, doesn’t he?”
“The family, Cosa Nostra … who calls it what depends on who you ask, but yes. He’s the boss.”
“Okay,” Haven said, confused at where he was going with this.
Andino cleared his throat, saying quieter, “He’s ready to retire—most bosses don’t even live to his age, let alone keep their seat for as long as he has in this business. Our family, though …” He trailed off with a dark laugh. “Our family reigns strong. Call it fucking luck, or say it like it is, in that we’ve got the stronghold. We’re the force to be reckoned with in this city. We control everything. But all bosses step down, and someone else has to step up, you know. That’s what I mean.”
Haven stiffened. “You?”
“Me, yeah.”
“You.”
Her voice was an echo that time.
Andino smiled over at her. “That’s how I felt, too. A little angrier at first. Mostly because nothing is ever easy in this life—every choice I make has to reflect the family and business in a good way. There are rules and customs we follow, so what I was expecting for my life was suddenly entirely different.”
“Oh.”
“You’re one of those things,” he added.
“I’m sorry?”
“Men in my position have a few expectations we need to meet before we can be considered … unchallenged in our place,” Andino murmured. “One of those things is to be married to an appropriate, respectable woman. Italian; Catholic; preferably affiliated in some way, although that’s not always a requirement. It’s a long-standing tradition.”
“Marriage?”
Her voice was fainter than she wanted it to be.
Unsure, and wary.
Confused, more than anything.
“We’re not … getting married,” Haven said. “I don’t understand why that even matters.”
“To my family, involvement with a woman that goes beyond a single event, is cause for someone to look into the relationship,” Andino explained. “And this is my fault—what happened yesterday evening, I mean. That was my fault because while you don’t understand, I do. I know you didn’t ask for this by getting involved with me, Haven.”
“I just …”
“What?”
“I wish you would have told me,” she whispered.
“I’m a selfish fucker, I guess. I always look out for everybody else first, and myself second. I started looking out for me a little bit, and here we are.”
“So, I’m not, then.”
“Hmm?” Andino looked over at her, and those green eyes of his pinned her in place. Intense, dark, stormy. His gaze was all of those things and more. “I don’t follow.”
“Not appropriate, or respectable for you. That’s why they’re concerned. I would challenge your … standing, right?”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“They seem to think it does. So much so, that they cornered me at my place of business. So much so, Andino, that your uncle pulled any and all information he could about me and my life. Some of it, I didn’t even know. And your father—”
“What about my dad?”
“He wasn’t so bad, actually,” Haven admitted. “He apologized, and was kind.”
Andino smiled. “My dad is … pretty easy-going. And he probably relates to being the black sheep, considering all the shit he pulled when he was my age. Not that it matters now, I guess.”
“He said something to me.”
“What was that?”
“Well,” Haven said, “he told me to tell you something.”
Andino arched a brow, silently waiting.
“He said to tell you that the things you find that are worth keeping are rarely easy. That, you’re you, and not every other man, so you shouldn’t bend to them. Or … something like that. Please apologize to him for me being snappy; he was kind.”
Andino was quiet for a long while.
Haven let the silence fill the space between them.
It only felt like it was growing.
She had a lot to think about now.
“I should go,” Haven whispered.
Andino sighed, but before she could even get up from the bench, he’d reached over, grabbed her face in his hands, and pulled her in for a burning kiss that scorched her alive. And God, did his kiss make her feel so fucking alive.
Why did it have to feel like that?