Infidelity: Inheritance (Kindle Worlds Novella)

by T. C. Winters

  I let the information sink in. “What if none of the deliveries had anything to do with the ironworks company? What if the drivers had something going on the side?”

  Deloris consulted her pile of notes. “Each driver is assigned an area. None of the drivers made a delivery outside of their area. The drivers picked up and delivered wherever they were told to go. They probably didn’t know what was inside the packages.”

  Elena rocked back in her chair and sighed. “There were no manifests for these secret packages, yet the drivers knew where to go. Sounds as if someone else called the shots and they just did as they were instructed.”

  The room went silent while we digested the facts. I reached a conclusion. “Who was the dispatcher?”

  Deloris went back to the computer screen while we peered over her shoulder. Several spreadsheets flashed by before she found the one she wanted. “Stefano Cuccia.”

  My breathing sped up and my reasoning jumbled. When I had a coherent thought, I said, “I’ve met all the employees. I’ve never heard the name Cuccia until recently.”

  Elena drummed her fingers on the desk. “Did Serafina know the employees?”

  I shrugged. “She was there more than I was, but I don’t know how many she interacted with. Maybe Dad talked to her about the business. We can ask.”

  Together, we trooped to the kitchen where Sera had compiled an impressive dessert buffet. Elena snagged a pizzelle and popped the cookie into her mouth. I didn’t know how to broach the subject to Sera, so I indicated with a nod to Deloris that she should lead.

  “Sera, how well informed are you about Antonio’s business?” Deloris spoke in a soft tone.

  Sera stopped rolling wedding cakes in powdered sugar long enough to respond. “I could not run the company if that is what you are asking, but I have a working knowledge of the bookkeeping and accounting. I did payroll for him on occasion.”

  Deloris tiptoed closer as if moving too quickly would frighten Sera. “Are you familiar with a dispatcher named Stefano Cuccia?”

  Sera’s legs gave out from under her and she caught herself on the edge of the counter. Her complexion paled. “Yes. He is my cousin. The son of my mother’s first cousin.”

  My sharp intake of breath drew her attention. She shuffled to a stool and sat. “Dante, I am so sorry. You thought Vincent had abandoned Antonio because he would not assume his rightful position in the Costello crime family. Vincent was happy that Antonio led an honest life, but my family would not let Antonio be. They threatened to send me back to our homeland if Antonio did not do one small favor. Then it was another favor, and another—until Antonio could not shake the Cuccia curse. My family forced Antonio to hire Stefano. Vincent was so angry he refused to speak to Antonio.” She dropped her forehead onto the counter and wept.

  Uncertain, I stumbled to her and patted her back a few times. My mind spun and I forgot how to speak. Deloris and Elena seemed to suffer from the same affliction.

  The aromas from Sera’s fit of stress baking hit my stomach, and I had to suppress the gag forming in my throat. “Sera, do you know how to contact Stefano?”

  She raised her head and the tears ran down her cheeks. “Yes, but he is evil. I have never tried to reach him.” Her lips thinned and she drew a sharp breath. “Do you think he was responsible for my Antonio’s death?” She shook a fist. “Bastardo. I will kill him myself.”

  I grasped her shoulder and gave her a shake. “Sera. Focus. We need to tell the Cuccias we don’t have the painting.”

  “Painting. What painting?” She gasped. “L'adorazione.”

  “Yes. The Adoration. Did my father mention the painting?” I hadn’t meant to, but I shoved my face so close to hers that our noses touched. I backed off.

  “Yes. He said it was a sin to horde such a spectacular work of art.” She pivoted her gaze around the room, as if searching each of us for an answer. “What does this have to do with the destruction of my family?”

  Deloris moved me aside and reached for Sera’s hand. “We need you to contact Stefano. Ask him if he knows where to find the painting. He must know his family wants the canvas back, but maybe he isn’t aware we have no records of where to find it.”

  Sera removed herself from Deloris’s grasp, wiped her tears, then blew her nose on a paper towel. “My phone is by the oven. Please give it to me.”

  I snatched the phone from the counter. I trembled so badly the phone wobbled in my grasp as I delivered it.

  She searched her contacts until she found what she wanted. Pressing the screen, she breathed deeply until Stefano answered. Deloris and Elena inched closer, but Sera’s end of the conversation was spoken in Italian.

  The discussion grew heated but I couldn’t make out the argument. When she hit end, the silence in the kitchen was deafening.

  Sera didn’t move for a few seconds. Tears welled as she said, “I had no idea.” She crossed her arms over her chest and pleaded. “Please believe me. The Cuccias’ stole the painting from the Sicilian mafia and it was to be delivered to another Cuccia family member in Chicago by one of Antonio’s drivers, but Antonio refused, saying the painting needed to go back to Sicily. Now that man and his family are angry. They will do anything to get it back.”

  I completely lost my shit. “Anything such as murder my father and frame my sister for murdering him? Sera, where is the damn painting? We need it now.”

  Her cries changed to sobs. “I don’t know. Maybe in the house? Stefano said it was not in Antonio’s warehouse.”

  “We’ve already searched everywhere. Dad told Uncle Vincent the painting was somewhere they both held precious. Where would that be?” My voice grew louder with each word, and I closed the distance between us.

  Deloris took my elbow and steered me away from my stepmother. “Leave her be, Dante.”

  I gripped the edge of the granite countertop. “She knew the Cuccia family was blackmailing Dad. What am I supposed to think?” I raked my fingers through my hair as my anger simmered. I wanted to shake Sera until her teeth rattled. “Sera, the Cuccias have either framed Bettina for Dad’s murder or they have a judge in their pocket who can get her off. If we can’t find the canvas, there is enough circumstantial evidence that she could be convicted. Think hard. Where would he have hidden the painting?”

  “Do not blame me, Dante. You have not shared information about the painting or about the Cuccia family’s involvement until now. If you had come to me earlier, I would have told you what they held over Antonio.” Color rose on her cheeks and her voice grew stronger. “Do you think I would let Bettina suffer if I knew of this?”

  My pulse pounded. “No. I don’t. I’m sorry, Sera. I…I feel helpless.”

  Elena stacked cookies on a plate. “Spinning wheels here. Everyone kiss and make up because we need to find this damn painting.” Guiding me away from the counter, she said, “We’ll be in the office trying to find a likely hiding spot.” She hauled me with her as she carried her plate of cookies into the office.

  She plopped her rear on the desk and chomped on a cookie. “First, let’s talk about what’s making you so angry.”

  I dropped onto the couch. “Losing my father has been hard, but I thought he was innocent of any wrongdoing. To discover he aided and abetted the Cuccia family is a huge blow.” I raised my head and captured her full-bore stare. “I admired him for refusing to be involved in the Costello crime organization. Now I’m being told he’s the one responsible for stealing a stolen painting from a competing mafia boss. The irony is eating me up inside.”

  She sat there, scrutinizing me and eating cookies until I started to squirm under her gaze. “Fine,” I shouted. “I’m ashamed of him.”

  Chapter 8

  Elena slammed the plate onto the desk. “What did you expect? Sure, transporting goods for the Cuccia family was probably illegal, but you don’t know for sure. The company belonged to him. He had every right to ask his drivers to deliver whatever he wanted, wherever he wanted.” She broke eye contact
long enough to slide another cookie off the plate. Pointing the cookie at me, she continued, “I didn’t know your father, but it sounds as if he did the honorable thing with the painting. Bonetti’s son said they tried to return it to Sicily.”

  Her accusations burned a hole in my heart. I was a sanctimonious ass. I knew little about mob families, but I understood if the Cuccias’ demands hadn’t been met, Sera would’ve been sent back to Italy. No Sera in our lives meant no Bettina or Cat. If Dad had refused, my life would’ve been altered. What was the harm in sheltering a stolen painting believed destroyed years ago? He hadn’t been the one to originally steal the canvas, although he’d paid the ultimate price.

  She offered me a cookie from the plate. “You need to fatten up. I can’t take a lover who weighs less than I do.”

  My jaw dropped. Greatest come-on ever, delivered at the lowest point in my life.

  “What. You think I’m an innocent?” She snorted, but squared her shoulders. “Where do you think I met your cousin Lennox?”

  Mind officially blown, I shrugged. “I hope you didn’t meet him through Infidelity.”

  She chuckled. “So you do know about Infidelity. I was a client, but the staff removed me from the service when I couldn’t find a suitable partner after four tries. Three were namby-pamby pansies wanting a sugar mama to control them. The last one thought he’d control me by beating me senseless. He’s probably able to walk by now.” She studied me. “Lennox offered me a part-time job. If a couple has a problem, I’m the one who fixes it.”

  “The Enforcer,” I mumbled. Lennox had tried for years to sign me up as a client for Infidelity. He’d even offered to pay the fee.

  She slapped me on the back. “Exactly. I knew you’d understand. Now, let’s start making a list of places where unknown deliveries have been made, beginning with the most recent. I’ll get Deloris and we can call around and ask if there are any unclaimed packages. We can use the pretense of tying up loose ends after Antonio’s death.” She left the room before I could ask why she’d been assigned to me.

  Thunder roiled through my veins. Lennox apparently thought I was too awkward to find a mate, and Deloris found me too much of a pussy to protect myself. My fingers clenched and unclenched as my simmering anger threatened to boil over. The exercise worked and my mind cleared. I’d been rude to Sera, I hadn’t been able to find a mate, and I probably would’ve been dead by now if someone hadn’t been watching my back.

  Elena returned with Deloris and we spent several unproductive hours making calls. If anyone had an unclaimed package, they weren’t talking. Frustrated and tired, we stopped and regrouped. During the lull, I decided Sera deserved an apology.

  Not finding her in the kitchen, I climbed the stairs to Cat’s room. They were together on the bed, reading a book. “Sera, I want to apologize. What I said was—”

  “No, Dante.” She vaulted from the bed. “Do not waste time on an apology. Find the painting and free your sister.”

  I leaned against the doorframe and regarded my stepmother. “I’ll talk to a bail bondsman in case they set bail tomorrow morning. I mistakenly thought I could get that done today. Once Bettina’s home, we may need to negotiate with the Cuccias.” I studied her reaction. “You should be the one to talk to them.”

  “I will do whatever needs to be done to free our Bettina.” She sat on the bed. “Antonio’s ashes are ready. May I tell the cemetery we will inter the ashes tomorrow?”

  I’d forgotten about the cremation. “Of course, Sera. I should’ve paid more attention.”

  “Do not worry. I would like him entombed in the Costello family mausoleum next to his parents.” The questioning glance she offered suggested she thought I’d disagree.

  “He would’ve wanted that.” I started to leave, but swung back and caught her watching me. “He loved you, Sera. I thank you for giving him that.”

  She gave a small nod, nearly wrenching my heart from my chest.

  I went to the kitchen for a pitcher of tea and glasses before returning to the office. Deloris and Elena sat with their heads together on the couch. The glasses clinked as I set them down, and the women jerked away from each other.

  “Telling secrets or making up lies?” My voice was light, but I couldn’t help the suspicion that crept in.

  Based on their expressions, I had good reason to be skeptical. When no response came, I asked, “What’s going on? Did you find something?”

  Elena reached for the pitcher and a glass. “We were discussing Antonio and Sera’s marriage and wondering if it had been arranged.”

  My gaze zipped back and forth between the two. “I was young when they met. I don’t remember much. Are you suggesting the Cuccia family forced them to marry?”

  A flicker of worry creased Deloris’s brow. “Not necessarily. I suspect Serafina was put in Antonio’s path with the hopes of a relationship. She may or may not have known, but after a while they fell in love and Antonio would’ve done whatever he’d needed to keep her.”

  I threw my palms in the air. “I’m not asking Sera. Besides, what difference does it make now?” The idea of the two of them gossiping about my father’s love life infuriated me, although I’d had the same thought. “Can we get back to our task?” Even to my ears the comment made me sound like an ass.

  They shared one of those secretive female smiles that stymied men. I ignored them and went back to work on the accounting files. The sun had faded by the time I admitted defeat. Elena and Deloris were occupied with the other laptop, allowing me the opportunity to Google Elena Flores. A New York native and a Marine, she’d retired as a runway model and now owned a string of high-end boutique-style gyms for women. There was no mention of her work with Infidelity. Her net worth was estimated to be close to a billion dollars.

  A shadow flitted across the screen while I read. I didn’t hit the close window button fast enough because a feminine finger landed on my keyboard and closed the site for me.

  “Why not just ask what you want to know?” Her arm hovered above my shoulder, and I feared a karate chop would knock me down. She withdrew her arm and raised both of them to twist her long hair into a ponytail. She tossed the long tail over her shoulder, hitting me.

  The jagged edge of her hair tickled the back of my neck and the scent of sweet tea and cookies surrounded me, leaving the impression that we were well accustomed to such foreplay.

  I’d been engrossed in my Google search and didn’t realize we were alone in the office. “Your hair is beautiful. You should leave it down.”

  She winked. “My hair is what does it for you? I thought I wasn’t getting to you.” She touched my shoulder and squeezed. “What else can I do to trip your trigger?”

  Unaccustomed to such frank sexual innuendos, my mouth went dry and my brain buzzed with the flight of what felt like a thousand bumblebees. “I…uh…like…” What? I liked what? Damn if her close proximity didn’t drain me of coherent thought.

  She ran a finger down my chest. “I’m being too forward with you. I know this is not who you are.”

  “No, it is not who I am, but it is who I want to be.”

  She snickered. “Why don’t you show me your…paintings?” Her snicker transformed into a cackle. She reached across my shoulder and grabbed my wrist, rubbing her breasts against my back. “Come on. I really want to see your paintings. Will you show me?”

  “Of course.” I never shared my paintings with anyone until they were entirely completed and some of the pieces in my studio were done with techniques I’d been testing. I hadn’t planned to show them to anyone, yet I stood and offered no argument. I wanted her to see my work, but I didn’t want to contemplate what that meant.

  She tucked herself against my side as we climbed the stairs to my studio. My palms started sweating before we reached the top. Showing my art to a woman was tantamount to slipping a ring on her finger. I wasn’t sure I was ready.

  From the door of my studio, she spotted the canvases sitting on easels in the bac
k of the room, hidden under white tarps. With the same single-minded purpose she’d shown as my bodyguard, she traipsed to the easels and tossed back a couple tarps. “Oh. These are lovely.” She swiveled toward me. “They’re much different than your work in the galleries.”

  I was pleased she was familiar with my work and even more pleased she liked the new style I’d been experimenting with. “I’m experimenting with Salvador Dali’s techniques. These are my first efforts.”

  She wandered to several other easels. “There’s almost an abstract feel.”

  I closed the door before I plodded to where she stood admiring my work. “I wanted to learn a different style. I’ve sensed something is missing in my art.” I brushed a fingertip across her cheek. “And in my life.”

  I wanted to explore. Wanted to feel—to fill the void left by loss. My fingers itched to caress her sassy mouth and roam over the curvy body my cousin had handpicked for me.

  Does it matter if this is a setup?

  I jerked my finger away.

  “You don’t want me?” Her lips drooped and her gaze slid to the floor.

  In response, I brushed my fingers against the back of her neck, rounded down to her shoulders, and lingered over the strap of her bra as I considered my options. Her eyes blazing with an emotion I couldn’t name.

  I snatched my hand away. “I’m sorry. That was unforgivable.”

  “The only thing unforgivable is stopping in mid-turn-on.”

  “Elena, this…” I pulled back, wanting some distance between us.

  “I’m no shivering virgin. Would I shock you if I said I’d thought of nothing else but getting naked in your bed since the moment I first saw you?”

  My adrenaline surged, contemplating the night ahead as I led her to my suite.

  We spent the night mastering new techniques.

  Chapter 9

  The alarm woke me, but I slapped the snooze and rolled onto my side, sucking in a mouthful of long hair in the process. Once the sleep cleared, a vision of feminine delight awaited me. Elena—sprawled on her back, mouth open and emitting tiny mewing sounds, arms flung out to her sides. Perfect.