by Dana Delamar
Cris ran a hand through his dark curls, ruffling them up. “Let’s take a drive.”
“With pleasure.” He was feeling a bit housebound. And worried. Dario still hadn’t told him whether he’d accept the deal. He was still “thinking.” About what? The theory of relativity?
Soon they were speeding off in Cris’s red Ferrari 458 Italia. He drove one-handed, using the other to gesture around them when he wasn’t changing gears. “Have you seen much of the lake?” he asked. “It’s four hundred meters deep. I’m sure there’s more than one dead body at the bottom of it.”
I’m sure your father’s responsible for a few of them too. “No, I didn’t have a chance to see any of the lake before your father ‘invited’ me to stay. But I don’t think you asked me along to give me a tour.”
Dead silence. Cris chewed on his thumbnail, then said, “You’re right. I didn’t. But let’s enjoy ourselves before we talk business.”
At the mention of “business,” Nick’s pulse revved up. Was Cris the bearer of bad news? Was that little tidbit about the lake a hint? Cris certainly wasn’t acting like himself. At all.
The last thing Nick wanted was to find himself at the end of a gun barrel.
Cris took a hand off the steering wheel again and reached across his chest and under his jacket. Exactly where a shoulder rig would be. Bloody hell. He’d better scarper, right quick.
The car slowed to take a curve, and Nick yanked on the door handle and threw himself out of the vehicle. He hit the ground hard and rolled on the gravel shoulder. The Ferrari skidded to a stop and Cris jumped out.
Nick scrambled to his feet. Fuck, his shoulder and hip hurt. He should’ve waited for a stop. Who did he think he was? Jason Bourne?
“What are you doing?” Cris yelled. “You could kill yourself that way!”
Nick turned and ran, searching for somewhere to go. But the road dropped off sharply on his right, and to his left was nothing but craggy rocks. Too exposed. Down the cliff it was. Except… Christ. He’d need climbing gear to get down there without breaking an ankle. Or his neck. He should have thought this through. Story of his life. When the fuck would he learn?
He was starting down the cliff anyway when Cris caught up to him and grabbed him by the collar of his coat. “What’s got into you? You can’t go down there! You’ll get killed!”
Hmm… that was the second time Cris had said that. Why would he be worried about Nick’s well-being if he wanted him dead? “You’re not going to kill me?”
“Idiota!” Cris laughed. “Why would you think that?” He let go of Nick’s collar and clapped him on the back.
“You seemed upset. Not yourself.”
Inhaling deeply, Cris scratched his cheek. “I’m not. But I’m not planning to kill you either.” He scrubbed a hand over his head. “Though there’s a possibility that I could get you killed if you agree to what I’m about to ask.”
“What’s that?”
Cris shook his head. “Dust yourself off. Let’s talk like gentlemen. Business is best conducted on a full stomach, yes?”
Unless the “business” involves my possible death. “I could use a drink too.”
The tiny restaurant Cris took them to in Blevio had a fine bar, and Nick ordered their best whiskey. Just one. After Delfina’s party, he’d sworn he wasn’t going to touch the stuff ever again, but what the hell. If he were going to die soon, he might as well enjoy himself first.
Throughout their lunch, Cris remained cagey, insisting they eat and drink first, but when they’d finished eating and were both sipping at espressos, he finally got to the subject. “I found a way to get Delfi out of her engagement.”
“And you need my help to do it?”
“It will be risky. But I have no one else to ask.”
“Are you talking about killing Leandro or something?” Nick surprised himself by not being entirely opposed to the idea. What was happening to him?
“That would be the most direct solution, but it wouldn’t be wise.”
“Not to mention illegal.” Odd. He still didn’t really give a rat’s arse, despite the words coming out of his mouth.
Cris held his eyes. “Are you ready to marry my sister?”
Nick’s stomach contracted. Fuck. “I like her… a lot. But marry her? Where is this coming from?”
Leaning back in his chair, Cris crossed his arms. “A man honors his obligations.”
“How am I obligated to her? I barely know her.”
“Yet you slept with her.”
Nick froze. Cris’s voice had a hard edge to it, an edge he respected but didn’t like. “I wish I could take that back. I don’t even remember it. How’s that for an utter cock-up?”
Cris said nothing, just continued to stare at him.
“Listen, mate, if you want to have a swing at me, go ahead. I won’t defend myself. If it turns out I got her pregnant, I’ll do the right thing and marry her. I’ll take care of her.”
Straightening up, Cris jabbed at the white linen tablecloth with a thick forefinger. “If you don’t, you’ll answer to me. Capisci?”
Nick nodded. He got it, loud and clear. “I’m sorry about this whole bloody mess.”
“Well, here’s your chance to set things right.”
Cris explained the plan, while Nick’s spaghetti carbonara curdled in his belly. The bloody Russians. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like it at all. But it did give him a chance to gather intel on the Vilanovich family. And help Delfina. It was the least he owed her.
“I’ll do it. When do we go?”
“Tomorrow. Midnight.”
So soon. Well, it wouldn’t give him long to stew, would it? Nick excused himself to the loo. Just after he stepped inside, someone caught the closing door and followed him in, sending all his senses on high alert. He was turning to face the man when a large hand clapped over his mouth and nose, and a powerful body slammed him against the wall beside the door. What the bloody hell? It was the tough prick who worked for his father. Ruggero. The guard. Or worse, judging from the wicked scar that sliced across his left cheek.
Ruggero’s black hair was slicked back, his face naked in its menace. Or was that how the bloke always looked? Yeah, he’d looked downright murderous at the party too. So maybe he wasn’t going to kill him, just break a few bones, since he seemed to be into that kind of thing. The guard’s voice was low and gruff, his English heavily accented. “You will not make a sound when I release you. Yes?” The hand clamped over Nick’s face reeked of tobacco.
Nick nodded, his heart threatening to burst out of his chest, his lungs screaming. When Ruggero’s hand left his mouth, he gulped in air. He was developing a real distaste for the hulking bastard. Nick made a show of straightening his clothes while he chose his words. “You don’t have to paw me like this every time we meet. If you fancy me, why don’t you just say so?”
That ought to have earned him a fist to the jaw, but luckily the man had a sense of humor. He let out an amused grunt. “You have your father’s tongue.”
Nick’s teeth clenched together at the reminder. “Why are you here?”
“Your father sent me for you.”
“No.”
The guard raised an eyebrow. “You are happy as Andretti’s prisoner?”
“No. But he’s got my grandparents in his goddamn crosshairs.”
“Don Lucchesi can protect them.”
“I can’t take that chance.”
“My orders are to bring you home.”
Something in Nick snapped at that word. He stepped up to Ruggero, shoving his face right up to his. “You tell my father to fuck off. I don’t need his bloody help.”
Ruggero’s brows lowered and he moved an inch closer, his chest touching Nick’s, as if he were going to embrace him and kiss him on the cheek. When he spoke, his breath, redolent of cigarettes and coffee, was warm on Nick’s skin. “I suggest you rethink your options.”
Nick blinked as the man stepped out of his personal space. Reth
ink my options? What kind of Mafioso is this guy? “I know what I’m doing.”
Ruggero huffed with laughter. “So eager for the coffin?”
That didn’t merit an answer. Nick turned his back on the bastard. When he glanced into the mirror above the sink, the room behind him was empty.
He braced his hands on the sink, letting his breath out in a whoosh. His right jacket pocket swung forward and clunked against the porcelain. What the hell? He put his hand in the pocket and closed his fingers over an object that fit easily in his palm and pulled it out. A mobile phone. Halle-fucking-lujah.
Flipping it open, he scanned the contact list. Only one listing: “ECL.” His father. Making sure the phone was set on silent, he slipped it into an inside pocket. Not that he’d ever take his father’s help, but he might need Fuente’s or Delacourt’s if he continued fucking up.
He splashed some water on his face, Ruggero’s question haunting him. So eager for the coffin?
Maybe he did have a death wish. But he’d made a promise to Cris; he’d given his word. He couldn’t abandon his principles.
Or Delfina.
CHAPTER 9
By the end of her first day working at the House of Morelli, Delfina had one thing to smile about. She had a new friend in Jacopo. And he’d gone over her sketches and approved of several, though he’d suggested a number of changes and had given her ideas for areas she needed to study in-depth. He’d told her to try again, and when she was ready, he’d get her time with Signor Morelli to show him what she could do.
She’d practically skipped out the door, Jacopo locking up behind her and offering to walk her to her car. The streets were dark, and a cold rain was falling. She was about to accept when a harsh voice came from behind her. “I’ll walk my fiancée to her car.” Leandro.
Her blood turned to ice as she whirled around to face him. “What are you doing here?”
He frowned. “Not exactly the reception I was expecting from my bride-to-be.”
When Jacopo gave her a questioning look, her face burned. She hadn’t mentioned Leandro at lunch. Instead she’d told him about Nick. “Delfi, is everything all right?” he asked.
Leandro stepped forward and took her arm. “Of course it is.” He scanned Jacopo up and down, then turned to her. “We need to talk. Now.”
Her heart thumped in her chest. She really didn’t want to be alone with him, but she didn’t want him to hurt Jacopo. “Yes, we do.” She turned to Jacopo. “I’m fine. Thanks for everything.”
“If you’re sure,” he said, raising an umbrella, his tone saying that he didn’t think she was.
She forced a smile and nodded, then watched Jacopo walk away, her stomach sinking with his every step. Raindrops pelted her hair and ran down her face and the back of her neck, making her shiver and pull her jacket more tightly about her. When Leandro said her name, none too patiently, she turned to him. “How did you know I was here?” she asked.
“Giovanna isn’t exactly quiet when you two are on the phone.” He started off in the direction of her car. Judging by how wet his coat and hair were, he’d obviously been stewing out here for a while. Possibly he’d prowled the whole neighborhood, searching for a dealer.
Her mouth was so dry. She tried to inhale, but her lungs wouldn’t expand. All she could feel was the bite of his fingers into the soft flesh of her upper arm. He was hurting her, again. And this time Nick wasn’t there to stop him.
She glanced behind them, but the streets were empty. She’d stayed too late with Jacopo; they’d been the last ones to leave the shop.
“So who’s the finocchio?” he asked. There were worse words he could have picked, she supposed.
“A friend. He’s Signor Morelli’s assistant.”
His fingers tightened on her arm. “When were you planning to tell me about this job?”
“When it was your business to know.”
“It is my business.” He let out a little sound of irritation and muttered a curse.
They took a left at the corner, and she spotted her silver Alfa Romeo parked at the end of the next block. The sight made her breathe a little easier. “You don’t own me, Leandro. I’ve already told you that.”
He yanked her to a halt. “Delfina, I’m not a boy any longer. You can’t boss me around like you used to. I’m a man, and I’m going to be your husband soon. You had better realize that right now. I deserve your respect.”
“Respect is earned. You can’t demand it.”
His eyes narrowed and his lips tightened into a thin line. “And you can’t run around like my opinion doesn’t matter. You should have asked my permission before you got a job.”
A bitter taste filled her mouth and she stamped a foot, her shoe splashing in the river of water running down the sidewalk. “We live in the twenty-first century. Or hadn’t you noticed?”
“You know the rules.”
“The rules, the rules, the rules! Don’t you ever get tired of them?”
“Of course.” He sighed. “Listen, all I want is some acknowledgement that I matter to you.”
“Would you have let me take the job?”
“Maybe.” He stroked the black moustache and goatee that had grown in since the party.
One more day, and then this is over. “You’re lying.”
He squeezed her arm until she winced, then he abruptly let go, as if he’d touched a hot kettle. He inhaled deeply, then blew out while she rubbed her arm. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice cracking, then he raked both hands through his wet hair and paced a few steps away before wheeling back toward her. “I love you, you know that. You drive me mad, Delfi, you always have.”
“A strong man doesn’t hurt his woman.” Why couldn’t she stop goading him?
Leandro let out a groan and stepped close, looming over her. “I wouldn’t have to, if you’d let me be the man in this relationship!” His voice was low and edged by something sharp. “I’m warning you, Delfi. Do not push me too far.”
She fought to keep her voice from quavering. “I’m keeping my job.”
“We’ll see.” He went to take her arm again, and she shrugged him off.
“I can walk the rest of the way myself.” She turned away from him and started toward the car, her back and shoulders tensed for a blow.
After she’d walked halfway up the block, he called out. “Wait.” She stopped, but didn’t turn. When he caught up to her, he said, “This job means that much to you?”
“It’s everything I’ve dreamed of.” She looked up at him, blinking water out of her eyes.
Leandro cupped her face in both hands. “All right, then. But I want you home every day for supper. No late nights, no weekends.”
“I’ll try.” She offered him a tiny smile, hoping to placate him so he wouldn’t see the lie on her face.
He rubbed her cheekbones with his thumbs. “See? I can be reasonable, when you don’t fight me.” He grinned at her, but she wasn’t reassured. Not in the slightest. “I want to announce our engagement.”
“Can we wait three weeks?” Better to spare him the humiliation of inviting people to a party that was never going to happen.
“What does it matter?”
Delfina brightened her voice and forced another smile. “It’ll take me a while to find the right dress for such a special day. You want me to look radiant, yes?”
He returned the smile, then leaned toward her. She started to turn her head to avoid his lips, then thought better of it. Best to humor him a bit more. She accepted his kiss stiffly, and he stepped back with a frown. “What’s wrong?”
What wasn’t wrong? “We shouldn’t get carried away.”
He nodded and gave her a grin. “You have more sense than my sister.” He held out his arm to her and she took it, praying he wouldn’t try again. To his credit, when they reached the car, he just kissed her on the cheek, then waited while she opened the door, her hands trembling so violently that she fumbled with the handle.
She got inside and loc
ked the doors, starting the car and waving at him until he turned to leave. He headed up the street away from her, his tall figure receding into the darkness. She tried to slow her breathing, but her mind was racing. What was she going to do? He hadn’t seemed high, and yet his self-control had been razor thin. If they ended up married, she’d have to turn into a meek little mouse to survive with him.
Marrying Leandro would be worse than anything else her father had ever done to her. Her plan had to work. If it didn’t… she’d lose everything she was.
By the time she returned home, Delfina thought she’d sufficiently calmed down. But when her mother greeted her at the front door, something must have shone on her face. “What’s wrong, Delfi?”
Delfina waved a hand in the air. “Nothing. I’m fine.” But her strained voice betrayed her, and her mother clucked her tongue, as if to say “Don’t try to fool me.”
“What happened?”
“Leandro was waiting for me. And he wasn’t happy.”
Her mother patted her cheek. “You should have told him.”
“It’s my decision. It’s my life.”
Her mother sighed. “You knew this day was coming. You need to handle all of this with more grace, more regard for his feelings. I know he’s… excitable, but I believe he has a good heart.”
“And what about my feelings?”
“I know it’s not fair, cara. But it’s how things are. The sooner you accept that—”
“I will never accept it.”
“Never accept what?” Cris asked as he came in the door.
She turned at the sound and saw Nick beside him. Nick took one glance at her face and stepped toward her. “What happened?”
“Nothing.” She gave her mother a meaningful look, swearing her to silence without saying a word. “I’m going for a walk. I need to think.”
“I’ll go with you,” Nick offered.
“I’d rather be alone,” she said, heading down the hall to the sitting room, Nick following her anyway. She crossed to the double doors that led to the rear terrace, and he opened them for her. She stopped him with a hand on his chest. “Please let me be.”
“You seem like you could use a friend right now.”