He hoped to hell she could understand—and forgive—him when she found out the truth. If she rejected him, he wasn’t sure what he’d do.
Or how he’d keep her alive.
CHAPTER 10
“You were supposed to get rid of Lucchesi. Not lose your wife to him!” Carlo exploded, his eyes narrowed on Vincenzo.
“Do you think that was the plan, Zio?” Vincenzo hissed.
Carlo stared at Vincenzo, a bit impressed by his anger. So he has the balls to challenge me. He looked over at Dario, who was watching the two of them with seemingly nothing more than mild interest. How I wish my own son had a set like Vincenzo’s.
Carlo smoothed his hands down the front of his shirt while he considered his words. He wouldn’t apologize of course, though he did soften his tone. “What then is the plan?” He knew full well his nephew had none. But a good capo always rose to a challenge. This would be a fine test.
Vincenzo rubbed a hand through his hair and paced across the room, stopping by the windows and looking out at Carlo’s view of the lake. If his nephew looked far off to the west, he could see Lucchesi’s villa. Where his fascinating red-haired strega was even now, with her lover. Vincenzo leaned against the sill, staring out. After a while he turned to face Carlo. “I got some ideas.”
“Are you perhaps hoping Lucchesi will let down his guard? That will not happen, now that you let him know we are watching.”
Vincenzo couldn’t conceal his shock. “What about the box you sent him in Rome?”
“Ah, but Lucchesi did not take that seriously. He thought I was teasing.” He chuckled.
“He might’ve thought that if Massimo hadn’t shown up at his hotel.”
Carlo shrugged. He rather preferred Lucchesi to know. He’d suffer from the anticipation of the blow almost more than the blow itself. “How many men did he have with him yesterday?”
“Four.”
“Hardly an army.”
“But more than he’s usually got, if your guys are right.”
Carlo patted his jacket pockets, looking for a cigar. “Still, you got around them.”
Vincenzo smiled. “That was easy. His guys seemed more for show than anything else.”
“And they say his man Ruggero is so good. His father Livio, he was good. He saved Rinaldo enough times.”
“You had a guy inside Lucchesi’s organization, right?” Vincenzo asked.
An interesting change of subject. Carlo lit a cigar and nodded. “Unfortunately, he was stupid. Lucchesi caught on to him. But a little too late.” He studied Vincenzo through the smoke curling up from his cigar. “So that is your new plan? Get someone on the inside?”
“What about his accountant? What’s Trucco told you?”
“Nothing much. He seems to think I will kill Lucchesi over his puttana of a daughter.”
“I thought you was pissed about that.”
Carlo stared at Vincenzo, his face growing hot. “I am. The insult to Toni... I will not stand for it. But I do not care to avenge Trucco’s daughter. It was his fault for letting the troia run around.”
“Trucco’s got to know more. He’s got to know a way into Lucchesi’s house.”
Carlo puffed on the cigar. It was a decent place to start, one he should have thought of himself. “Talk to Massimo. He knows how to contact Trucco.”
Vincenzo nodded, a big smile on his face. His nephew was up to something. “You are not to do anything without my approval. Capisci?”
“Sì, sì,” Vincenzo said.
Carlo bristled at the dismissive tone. Time for a reminder. He stepped closer to Vincenzo, lowered his voice to a snake’s hiss. “You remember when Giorgio and Giotto caught that squirrel in the garden?” The dogs had ripped it to pieces in front of them.
“Yeah.” Vincenzo looked away from him.
“Imagine what they will do to your balls if I let them.”
His nephew blanched, and Carlo smiled. Things always ran best if everyone remembered who was capo.
After Vincenzo left, Dario turned to Carlo. “Are you truly going to marry Delfina to Lucchesi?”
“I want them to think I agree. I will die before marrying that family to ours again.”
“A war with the Lucchesis will be costly. Just like the last one.”
Carlo looked at him, surprised he had an opinion. “What of it?”
“It would be cheaper to agree to the marriage as long as they lower the rate on the wash. And perhaps we can gain some territory too, to save Vincenzo’s face.”
On the surface, Dario was right. But he fundamentally didn’t comprehend what it took to be capo. Carlo’s hands itched to grab his son and shake him until his head rattled. “Where are your balls? Think about what Lucchesi did to your sister. To us. He spat in our faces. On our name.”
Dario shrugged. “I thought you didn’t like to waste money.”
“I do not consider this a waste of money.” He shook his head. “Will you never understand what it takes to run things? Cristo, if you’re in charge, everything will be a shambles in weeks. Will you let all the other capi shit on you?”
“If we force Lucchesi to yield, to sacrifice his principles, is that not a victory?”
Carlo took a long drag on his cigar, studying his son. Why hadn’t Toni been the boy? “Only for a coward. It is time to crush the Lucchesis for good. I will not see Enrico Lucchesi parading around an Andretti woman as his puttana, flaunting his cock in our faces.”
No, he would see him dead. The woman too. And Vincenzo would be the sharp knife between the ribs.
CHAPTER 11
Enrico summoned Ruggero to his office. He’d put off disciplining him over the lapse at the orphanage for too long. When he thought about how close Kate had come to death or grievous injury, a nauseating dread pierced him, as if he’d run out of bullets during a firefight.
When Ruggero walked in, Enrico took a deep breath. He needed a clear head for this discussion. “You know why you’re here.”
Ruggero nodded and started disarming himself, removing a 9mm from a shoulder holster, another gun and a switchblade from his jacket pockets, a small snub-nosed revolver from an ankle holster, and two wicked looking knives from sheaths on each wrist, placing them all on the desk. Enrico silently watched the process, saying nothing. Ruggero stepped a couple feet away when he was done, clasping his hands at his back, settling onto his heels to wait for Enrico’s pronouncement.
Enrico studied his bodyguard as if he’d never seen him before. Ruggero stood in front of his desk, his posture straight but relaxed. A hard slab of man, not overly large or tall, but a solid mass of muscle with a face hewn from granite. A scar that slashed across his left cheekbone spoke of a knife he took for Enrico’s father. That was when Ruggero was shadowing his own father, Livio.
He’d known Ruggero for over twenty years, and the guard had been his constant companion for the last fifteen. They weren’t friends and they never would be—Enrico was Ruggero’s boss, first and foremost. Ruggero was a little too bloodthirsty for Enrico’s taste, but until now, he’d always seemed stable, trustworthy. And most of all, loyal. If he couldn’t rely on Ruggero, who could he trust?
“I’d like an explanation for what happened yesterday.”
Ruggero met Enrico’s eyes. “There is none.”
“That’s all you have to say?”
“Sì.”
Had he expected anything different? The answer was classic Ruggero. But the events of the last twenty-four hours were not. The incident at the hotel in Rome. What Ruggero must have said to Dom about Kate. What might have happened to her due to Ruggero’s laxity. Most of all, the possibility that Ruggero was a traitor. The anger he’d been holding back filled his voice with venom. “You have failed me. Twice now. And poisoned Dom against me. Explain yourself.”
One of Ruggero’s eyebrows twitched, the only sign that he was rattled. “I’m disappointed in myself, signore. But how could I have turned Don Domenico against you?”
“
Somehow, he got the impression that Kate and I… that my bringing her here was about sex. What did you say to Dom about what happened?”
“Nothing. Antonio’s the one who called him. I was too angry with myself to make the call.” He frowned, looking down at the floor. It was more expression than Ruggero normally showed.
“How am I to trust you again when you nearly got her killed?”
“You yourself were in danger. That’s the part I can’t forget.”
Enrico sighed. “You’re not going to defend yourself, are you?”
Ruggero didn’t move.
The man was holding something back. “Look at me.” When Ruggero met his gaze, he said, “What happened? Truly.”
Something flickered through the guard’s eyes. If Enrico hadn’t been watching him so closely, he would have missed it. But what was it? He waited for an answer and got none. “Ruggero, speak to me.”
“I allowed myself to be distracted. It won’t happen again.”
“Why were you distracted?”
Ruggero shrugged. “Does it matter?”
“What are you hiding from me?” He tried to inject the full force of his authority into the question.
The guard took a breath. “I swear it’s nothing of importance to you or the cosca. Only to me.”
Enrico felt like he was struggling to open a clam and losing the battle. “Are you working for the Andrettis?”
Ruggero blinked and his head jerked back. He spoke with fervor. “Never.”
“You swear it?”
“Upon my father’s grave.”
Enrico tapped his fingers on the desk in a slow cascade from the pinky to the index finger, waiting for more. Everything Ruggero said felt like the truth. He’d never known the man to lie. “Will this ever happen again?”
“No.”
“Your punishment is one month’s wages.”
Ruggero looked at him. “I expected much more.”
“What do you think is appropriate?”
“I expected to be dismissed.” Which was a nice way to say he expected a bullet to the head.
“Truly?”
“You could have been killed.”
“So, you would fall upon your own sword?”
Ruggero nodded. “It is only fair.”
Enrico took a breath and let it out. If all his men were like Ruggero, he would be a lucky man indeed. “Everyone makes mistakes. Even you.”
“I can’t afford to.”
“The day will come when you will fail. There is no stopping it.”
The guard let out a puff of breath. “If I do my job well, you’ll live to be an old man.”
“There are few old men in the malavita, and you know it.”
Ruggero shrugged.
“You can go.” He watched Ruggero re-arm himself. “Do not let this happen again.”
“Sì, capo.”
Ruggero left. What could possibly be preoccupying the man? He’d always been a rock. Once the immediate crisis was resolved, he’d ask again, and he’d accept nothing less than a full disclosure. For now though, he was satisfied. Ruggero would do his job, as he always had. As he always would.
Or they both would die.
Kate passed much of the afternoon roaming the grounds of the estate. At first she’d wandered about the house, but after encountering pictures of Antonella in nearly every room, exploring the gardens had held more appeal. Enrico had insisted that Antonio accompany her outside.
She hadn’t known what to say to the young guard at first, but his English was serviceable, and he proved to be an enjoyable companion. She almost might have thought she was on vacation, but whenever she caught sight of the machine gun hanging from a strap across his back, reality confronted her.
They were strolling through the hedge maze when she decided to ask him about her host. “How long have you worked for Enrico?”
“Not long. A few months more than a… year, yes?”
“Yes, that’s the right word.” She looked at the sky for a moment. “Is he a good man?”
“Signor Lucchesi? No. He is not a good man.” She looked at him in shock, and he smiled slyly. “Signor Lucchesi is a great man. My life would be nothing without him.”
“Why do you say that?”
“My parents, they died when I have ten years. There was no one who could take me. After much struggle… I went to the Lucchesi Home.” His voice grew hoarse. “Signor Lucchesi, he is like my own father.”
“Is that why you work for him now?”
Antonio nodded vigorously. “Signore wants me to attend university, but I want to repay him for all he has done for me.”
They walked out of the maze and into the rose garden, the heavy scent of flowers overwhelming everything else as the sun beat down around them. Kate stopped and sniffed a particularly large, lush rose, admiring the perfection of its deep pink petals. “So lovely, signora,” Antonio said.
“Yes, these roses are gorgeous.”
“I mean you, signora.” She looked up at Antonio, saw the glint in his eye.
“Antonio!” She wagged a finger at him playfully. “You are too young for me.”
He drew himself up and squared his shoulders. “I have twenty-one years.”
“And I have twenty-nine.”
“So?”
She stopped walking and gazed at him steadily. Antonio had blond hair, blue eyes, a face sculpted by Michelangelo, and the body to match. She supposed he was used to women falling all over him. “Signor Lucchesi would not like it.”
He eyed her up and down. “Bellissima. Such a woman. It is hard to say no.”
“You’d better say no. Because I am. Understand?” The last thing she wanted to do was stir up trouble between Enrico and Antonio. Especially since she’d be gone soon.
He let out a heavy sigh and placed a hand on his chest, exaggerating his heartbreak for her benefit. Then he smiled. “Signore makes a good choice in his woman.”
Kate let that comment pass. She wasn’t Enrico’s woman, but why rub it in? She bit her lip, wondering if she should ask. “What was Signora Lucchesi like?”
A shadow passed over Antonio’s young face, momentarily dimming his sunny features. “She is bella, molta bella. In here,” he said, tapping his chest.
Kate’s throat constricted. How could she possibly compete with the memory of a dead woman who had a beautiful heart?
But what did it matter? She wasn’t going to stay. She wasn’t ever going to be anything to Enrico other than a fling. End of story. Even though he’d said he wanted more, even though he’d practically begged her….
He wasn’t free. Not really. Not yet. Maybe not ever. Could she risk her heart on a man who might not be able to love her?
She looked at the house and gave a start when she saw Enrico walking toward them. His lips curved up when he saw that she’d noticed him, and she couldn’t help the grin that crossed her face in response. Stop daydreaming. You’re only here for a couple more days. Enjoy it. Enjoy him. Then forget everything.
He strolled up to her and slipped an arm across her shoulders, lightly kissing her cheek. “Has Antonio bored you yet?”
“Not at all.”
Enrico raised an eyebrow. “Ah, then he has been flirting with you.”
Her smile widened. “A bit.”
Enrico glared at Antonio, but his smile undercut it. He said something in Italian she couldn’t make sense of, but she was sure it amounted to a friendly “back off.”
“He’s also told me a bit about you. And Antonella.” Her voice softened as she mentioned his wife’s name.
He stiffened, then relaxed. “All good, I hope.”
“According to Antonio, the two of you are virtual saints.”
Enrico smiled. “Tonio remembers who pays his bills, I see.”
The young guard laughed and bowed his head. “I am not stupid, signore.”
“You never were. Now leave us, please.”
Antonio left with a nod to Kate, his blue eyes l
ingering on her for a second too long. What else might he have said if they’d had more time together?
“So what tales has he told you?”
“Antonio thinks the world of you. And he said Antonella had a beautiful heart.”
Enrico’s eyes misted and he looked away. He nodded and cleared his throat. “She did.”
“I’m glad you had such a good marriage. It’s rare to find that kind of love.”
“I am glad too. Even though it aches to be without her.”
She reached over and squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry.”
“I am not. I was the luckiest man alive. How often does that happen?”
“Not often enough.” She paused. “Probably not twice in a lifetime.”
He looked at her. “That is where you are wrong.”
“Am I?”
His eyes locked on hers. “I think so, yes.” He flipped her hand over, his fingers feathering over her palm. He leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers. “Come to bed with me, Kate. Let me show you,” he murmured against her cheek, his breath tickling her skin.
She hesitated. She shouldn’t do this. “Well, it will make the time pass faster.”
“You are concerned only with passing the time?” he asked mildly.
She gave him a naughty smile. “I suppose not.”
When she woke later that afternoon and thought back to what had happened between her and Enrico, Kate hardly remembered the trip into the house, up the staircase, into his room. But she did remember the feel of her palm against his, his large fingers clasped over hers, his pulse and hers throbbing in time.
The next thing she remembered was his eyes, the way they burned into hers, the way they devoured the sight of her breasts, her sex, as he undressed her. She had never felt so wanted, so desired.
And then she remembered his lips, his mouth taking hers, his tongue exploring, insistent, finally demanding. His mouth trailing down her neck, her skin tingling wherever his lips descended. The fire those kisses stoked between her legs.
His hands, stroking her shoulders, twining in her hair, cradling her waist, crushing her to him. His fingers plucking her nipples into points, his mouth taking over then, making her arch and moan, finally almost scream when he grazed her aching peaks with his teeth, when he bit down just this side of too hard.
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