He took a deep breath. “I am not going to marry her. I made a mistake in ever agreeing to it. I thought it was the right thing to do, that it would bring peace.” He paused. “And I was not sure of your heart.” He took one of her hands in both of his. “Will you please allow me to make amends to you?”
There was a certain logic to what he said; she might be wrong about how he felt. There might be hope after all. “I’ll go to Capri. But I’m not promising anything.”
He smiled, his relief evident. “I will make it up to you. You will see how much I love you.”
When she processed what he had said, a barrage of emotions rocketed through her. “You love me?”
“Of course I love you, Kate. Why else would I want to marry you?” He seemed puzzled by her reaction.
She smirked, not wanting to let him know how shaken she was. “Well, it certainly isn’t to save your neck, now is it?”
“That is unfair.”
“It’s the truth. It’s the reason you married Antonella, and it’s the reason you were going to marry Delfina.” He said nothing. “Fair enough?”
He nodded. “Fair enough.”
Enrico watched Kate dress. Her back was turned to him, and he wasn’t sure where he stood with her. She’d whipsawed back and forth so many times in the space of a few minutes. He’d told her he loved her, and her reaction had been anger. Anger to cover her hurt. Hurt he had caused with his bumbling. Why hadn’t he told her sooner? Why hadn’t he told her about Delfina before they’d made love?
Had he ruined everything between them, just when it seemed he’d finally won her?
At least she was going to Capri with him. At least she was giving him a chance. Though the odds were more against him now than they’d ever been.
And he still hadn’t told her who he was.
He desperately needed to talk to Don Battista.
For the first time in his life, he felt truly lost.
CHAPTER 19
After he returned home from the summit with Carlo and Dario, Dom called Carlo.
“Do you think he suspects?” Carlo asked.
“I don’t think he trusts you, but I doubt he has any idea what we’re planning.”
“Your cousin doesn’t have the head for this role. He never did.”
Dom found himself automatically defending Rico. “Just because I think he’s being a fool over this woman, that doesn’t mean I think he hasn’t done well for the cosca. I may have my quarrels with my capo, but he has more brains for business than either of us, Don Andretti.”
“Are you worried about wearing the crown, Domenico?”
“I’ve been ready for this all my life.”
Carlo laughed. “Wanting to be the alpha dog and actually being it are two very different things. Your cousin has balls, I’ll give him that. You, I’m not so sure about.”
“The nail that sticks out gets hammered back in.”
“Said by men of no courage.”
Dom bit back his irritation. “If I fight him openly, the cosca will plunge into chaos. But if he dies, I will be able to step in without spilling another drop of blood.” He paused. “Of course, it would be to your benefit if that doesn’t happen.”
“You are learning, my boy. I am content to let you have his place, as long as you abide by our agreement.”
Dom’s skin erupted in flames. “I’ll give you what you asked for: the discount and the American. But that does not make you my master.”
“We will see about that.”
Dom wondered. “Did your men forget it was me wearing the white shirt tonight? Some of those bullets were awfully close.”
Carlo chuckled. “They did exactly as I asked.”
“Play any more tricks like that, and I will have to rethink this.”
“And do what? I have you by the balls. Don’t think I haven’t recorded every word you’ve said.”
Ice slid down Dom’s spine. There was no turning back.
He hung up. He’d known he was making a deal with the devil. Now he hoped the only price he’d pay for it was his soul.
It would all be over in three or four days. He was glad Rico was taking a vacation, glad Rico thought things were repaired between them. At least his cousin would die happy.
It was more than he expected for himself. He could only hope his children’s lives would be better because of what he’d done. With any luck, he’d save the cosca, save their future.
But he couldn’t save himself. That damage was already done.
He was killing his own blood; there’d be no mercy for him in the afterlife.
Tears pricked his eyes. No mercy was exactly what he deserved.
Kate woke with a start, her heart a jackhammer in her chest. Her first instinct, which she didn’t question, was to leap out of bed. Which is when she heard a voice that shouldn’t have been there. “Kate?” Enrico mumbled.
She stood there panting, her eyes taking in as much of the room as she could in the dim light of early morning. She was in Enrico’s room. Not with Vince. Never with Vince again. Yet why did he still haunt her dreams?
Maybe it had been a mistake to come back in here. The room had been cleaned up, and new carpeting covered the floor. But still she could smell the blood. Except this time it was Enrico’s, not Vince’s.
“Cara?” Enrico sat up in bed and scrubbed his eyes with his hand. “Did you hear something?” His eyes flicked up to the newly installed panic button. He opened the nightstand drawer and withdrew his Glock. “Kate?”
She inhaled deeply, trying to calm her breathing, then she walked over to him and put her hand out, directing the muzzle toward the floor. “It’s nothing. You don’t need that.”
“What woke you? You leapt out of bed as if the hounds of hell were snapping at your heels.”
She hugged herself, and he set the gun on the nightstand, then stood up and tried to take her in his arms. She flinched away from him. “Talk to me. Per favore.”
That Italian “please,” along with the worry in Enrico’s voice, grounded her. “I was dreaming. It was so real.”
“Do you mind if we talk about this in bed, where it is warm?”
Kate nodded and let him steer her back to the bed. He got in beside her and pulled the covers over them where they lay face to face. She reached over and traced the high, broad bone of his cheek, double-checking that he was real. When she started to withdraw her hand, he trapped it in his, then pressed his lips to her palm before letting go. “Tell me about this dream.”
“It was so real in every detail. Not like most dreams.” She closed her eyes for a second, then opened them, shaking her head. “Vince had broken in and he was raping me. Carlo was there too, waiting for his turn. You were dead. They’d killed you.” Tears slid down her cheeks and she wiped them away. “When is this going to stop?” Why couldn’t she just be normal again?
Enrico’s chest tightened. Her voice was so thick with tears he could hardly understand her. He reached out to her, his fingers skimming along her skin as he pushed her hair out of her face. “Cara,” he whispered, “it will stop. But it will take time.”
“As long as Carlo is out there, I’ll never feel safe.”
“He promised he would not harm you.”
“That was when you were going to marry Delfina. Have you told him yet?”
“I will ask Dom to tell him after we leave. It will give him time to calm down before we return.”
“He’s going to want us both dead.”
“I will think of something.”
She sighed. “I hope so. I don’t want to die over this.”
Enrico didn’t try to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “Over me, you mean.”
“No. I don’t want to die because I killed his nephew in self-defense. And because I’m the reason you don’t want to marry his granddaughter.”
Enrico relaxed, feeling sheepish. “Oh. I thought—”
She put a finger to his lips. “Don’t think I’ve forgiven you just
yet. I’m not sure how I feel. But I don’t want you walking around with false ideas about me in your head.”
It was not at all what he wanted to hear, but at least she wasn’t furious with him anymore. After their argument in the study, he’d been surprised when she’d come to his bed in the middle of the night, but he hadn’t asked for an explanation. He’d just been grateful, even though she’d stiffened when he’d reached for her, even though she’d said, “I don’t want to be alone right now, that’s all.” He had hoped things would be different in the morning, but at least they weren’t worse. He wished he’d understood then why she’d come to him. “Have you been having nightmares since the attack?”
She nodded. “It’s gotten worse since I ran out of Valium.”
“So that is why you came to me last night.” She rolled over, hiding her face from him. He touched her shoulder, then pulled her close. “There is no shame in needing someone.” Why did she always fight her need for him?
Kate took a deep breath. She was uncomfortably aware of his naked body pressed against hers, her lacy slip the only thing between them. She was still angry at him, still hurt he’d even consider marrying someone else. Still upset by her reaction when he’d told her he loved her. She hadn’t been coolly neutral the way she’d wanted. Because her feelings about him were anything but neutral. But that didn’t have to mean she loved him.
Despite her confusion, her body responded to his the way it always did, and she resisted the urge to wriggle against him when she felt his cock stiffen and press into her buttocks. She looked over her shoulder at him. “It’s not going to happen.”
He shrugged and moved away from her, propping himself up on his elbow. “As you wish. I cannot help it.” His eyes lingered on hers, then slid down to trace the curves of her body. “Bellissima, so bellissima.”
She started to smile, then suppressed it. “Aren’t you still intent on forcing me to go to Capri?”
He grinned. “I am.”
“Then you’d better get in the shower.” She lay back on the bed and watched him walk across the room, the hard, muscled beauty of his form making her breath catch and her sex grow wet. She wanted him even now, damn her. When was she going to learn? Enrico Lucchesi was bad news in a sexy package. That was all. He was not the man of her dreams, he was not the man who was going to make her happy. She had to keep telling herself that until it sunk in.
Making love with him yesterday had been a mistake. A delicious mistake, but a mistake nevertheless. Whatever she did, she wasn’t going down that road again. That road led somewhere she couldn’t go.
Humming to himself while Kate was in the shower, Enrico quickly shaved and brushed his teeth, then dressed in the clothes he’d pulled out the night before. He picked up the gun from the nightstand. Capri was generally safe, jet-set hotspot that it was, but you never knew. His father always said that the man who was prepared for anything had the advantage over the fool who trusted in luck.
He checked again that the clip was fully loaded, then put the gun in his jacket pocket. Was it fair of him to expose Kate to this life? Could he really continue to put her selfishly at risk? He scrubbed a hand across his face. Madonna. He didn’t see how he could continue to endanger her—and yet, he couldn’t see how he could let her go.
The shower shut off, then Kate stepped out and started drying herself. He walked over and leaned against the doorjamb, his eyes drinking her in. When she noticed him, roses bloomed in her cheeks. “Stop staring,” she said, turning half away from him.
“I love the rear view too, you know.”
Her cheeks bunched up with a smile, but her eyes stayed on her legs. He stepped closer to her and tugged at the towel. “Let me.” She resisted for a second, then let go.
He rubbed the towel over her shoulders, tossing the dark red sheaf of her wet hair to one side. He dried her back, the planes of her shoulder blades, the curves of her buttocks, then turned her around and brushed the plush white cloth over her breasts and belly, his touch teasing, lingering. He loved this moment with her, the intimacy of it, her trust in him a welcome contrast to the wildness he’d woken up to. He hoped she’d let him in again. He hoped she could find it in her heart to forgive him. He hoped she’d someday tell him she loved him.
But if he was going to earn her trust, her forgiveness, her love, he was going to have to trust in her, wasn’t he? He was going to have to tell her everything. And soon. Or he was going to have to let her go.
Kate looked at Enrico as he gazed upon her body. She felt an upwelling of warmth at his tenderness, the reverence with which he touched her.
“I’m sorry, Rico. For doubting you.”
He looked away from his task, meeting her eyes. “You had every right.” Wrapping the towel around her shoulders, he leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “I am asking a lot of you.” He looked down at his feet. “Sometimes I think I should put you on a plane. Send you some place far from here. Some place safe.”
Fear knifed through her gut. It must have shown on her face, because he said, “I will make sure you are safe, so if you want to go home, you can.”
Kate wasn’t sure what to say. She still didn’t know what she wanted. Him, or home? She finally settled on “Thank you,” trying to imbue the words with gratitude, hoping he could hear it, that he would understand what she was trying to say.
He looked at her, tension rising between them. He opened his mouth, looking like he was going to ask a question. Then his face changed and he said, “The plane is waiting for us.”
Kate nodded and shooed him out of her way. She ran a comb through her hair, deciding to let it air dry, then pulled on some clothes and brushed her teeth.
Enrico started out the door with their bags, then he turned around and came back in. “What if we drove back? It will take a few extra days, but I would love to show you the coast. I can have someone bring the Maserati down to us.”
She smiled. “I’d love it.” Might as well see as much of Italy as she could. While she was still here. “But you have to bring that bag back over here then. I’ll need some more clothes.”
He shook his head. “I am buying you a new wardrobe, remember?” His eyes flickered up and down her body, a grin spreading across his face. “You will love the stores in Capri.”
She picked up her purse and walked over to him, her smile slow and teasing. “Will I now?”
“Oh yes.” He leaned down to kiss her, his lips lingering on hers. “And I am going to love buying you everything.”
“Everything, huh? Then I’m going to need more luggage too.”
“As you wish, mia cara.”
Kate tried not to feel guilty when she heard the endearment. She wasn’t leading him on if she wasn’t sure, was she?
CHAPTER 20
Franco Trucco had always prided himself on his discretion. It was what made him the ideal accountant. And being the contabile for the Lucchesi cosca, as his father had been before him, was a great honor. The contabile was a man of respect, third in charge after the capo di società and the don himself. In his role, Franco kept track of and dispersed the cosca’s funds to the men on the payroll. He also had the don’s ear, so being friends with Franco had certain benefits. He never lacked for friends.
However, Franco prided himself on being a humble, modest man. Certainly, he was a man of means. But he was not king, and he didn’t aspire to be so. Only a fool would want the crown, and the danger that came with it. It was so much better to be near the top than actually there. He had nearly as much influence with much less risk. And that was important. He’d seen what Carlo Andretti had done to Don Rinaldo’s family.
So Franco had done his work quietly and with pride, enjoying his position and the fruits that came along with it. And he had loved Don Rinaldo and Don Enrico. Truly they were princes among men. When Don Rinaldo stepped down after his heart attack, Franco vowed to advise Don Enrico well and to serve him with all the discretion the Trucco family had always rendered. At the time, Fr
anco had thought nothing could ever change how he felt.
But he’d been wrong.
As always, the end had come because of a woman. But not just any woman. Franco’s daughter, Fiammetta. His youngest, and the smartest and most beautiful of his three daughters. Franco kept it to himself, but Fiammetta had been his favorite. He’d secretly delighted in her impertinence, her quick wit, her penchant for misbehaving. She’d done all the things Franco would have liked to have done, and had she been a son, he could have openly relished her behavior, instead of censuring it in public but winking at her in private and letting her off with a kiss. She’d kept the secret of his favor. It had been better for them both that way.
After Don Enrico’s wife Antonella had died, an idea had come to Franco. The don needed a wife, and Fiammetta had needed a husband. Franco had seen how Don Enrico had rebuffed all the eligible girls presented to him; a direct approach would not work. Care—discretion—had been needed, as always. So when the don’s assistant had moved into another position within the cosca, Franco had seen his opportunity. He’d had Fiammetta installed as Don Enrico’s secretary within days. He’d whispered not a word of what he’d hoped for to Fiammetta. Despite their bond, she’d been headstrong enough to foil his plans. So he’d prayed to the Virgin and hoped.
The Virgin had answered his prayers. Franco had known it when one day Don Enrico’s and Fiammetta’s eyes had kept locking together, then sliding guiltily away during a meeting. The way Fiammetta had flipped her hair out of her eyes when she’d known the don was looking, the way she’d shifted in her seat and licked her lips when she had been taking notes, the way Don Enrico’s eyes had tracked her movements like a cat eyeing its next meal—Franco had known what all these signs meant. He’d rejoiced in his heart. His status would increase; his family would be elevated further once they’d married into the Lucchesi family. His grandsons would be capi, would head the cosca.
But nothing had turned out as Franco had hoped. Instead, his daughter, the light of his heart, was dead. And the way Don Enrico could no longer meet his eyes meant he was responsible, even though his blood-alcohol test results had been lost, even though there was no proof, no admission of guilt from the don. Franco knew. Don Enrico was guilty. But how could he avenge his daughter?
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