by Bethany-Kris
For the sake of show, Melina let Mac do what he wanted.
The show, right.
Melina would keep telling herself that and ignore the way she felt. It would work … eventually.
“She is looking beautiful, isn’t she?” Mac said, flashing a grin at Melina. “She spent the day being spoiled, so she’s ready for a bit of fun with me tonight.”
Melina smiled back. “Mac always does know how to show me a good time.”
Guido chuckled. “Broads like you deserve to be spoiled every once in a while. I’m glad to see this man of yours is treating you properly.”
Mac scoffed. “I know how to treat a woman.”
“Treating and handling are two different things, Mac.” Guido’s leer deepened as he eyed Melina’s chest openly. She beat back the desire to bark at him to look at her eyes. “But I’m sure you have both under control, hmm?”
Mac turned Melina a bit in his hold to put her slightly behind him as he grabbed a piece of blue cheese from a serving tray as one of the wait staff walked by. It was a subtle way to take Guido’s eyes off her. Melina appreciated the move.
“You know it, Skip,” Mac said.
“Come. It’s time to say hello to the boss.” Guido waved a hand and spun on his heel.
Melina’s throat constricted with anxiety over the simple statement. Mac shot her an inquisitive glance when she didn’t move forward with him to follow behind Guido.
“You okay?” Mac asked.
Pushing the nervousness away, Melina nodded. Lying seemed the way to go for tonight. This was all about the show. “Yeah.”
Mac intertwined his fingers with Melina’s and pulled her close again. She felt better at his side, strangely, and chose to stay there as they strolled across the ballroom floor. Melina ignored the curious gazes of the people she didn’t know. Their whispers traveled, but not loud enough that she could hear them clearly.
The closer they came to Luca Pivetti and the two men standing beside him, the quieter people became. At just a few feet away, Luca held up one hand and passed Mac and Melina a dismissive glance.
“A moment,” the man said sharply.
Melina blinked, stunned.
She listened as the Don of the Pivetti crime family discussed the weather for the next week, the latest game he’d watched, and what he’d purchased for his daughter for her birthday. He held an entire ten-minute conversation with the men while Guido, Mac, and Melina stood off to the side, waiting to be introduced into a conversation that didn’t seem all that important.
They were the lesser to these people, she realized.
Outsiders.
Newcomers.
Quietly, Mac said to Melina, “On the left of the boss is his underboss, Enzo. On his right, his consigliere and lawyer, Matthew. Remember their faces and names, doll. They’re important men. They’re the closest any man will ever get to the boss without being him. You understand?”
“Yes,” Melina whispered.
Taking another look at the two older gentlemen talking with the Pivetti Don, Melina realized she did recognize them. Their pictures had also been shoved in her face with demands for information. The cops hadn’t focused on them nearly as much as they’d focused on what she might know about the boss, however.
“Okay, good.”
“Yes, let’s do that,” Luca said, chuckling loudly. “Put five down on them for me. They’re going to win the series, I’m telling you.”
“Just five?” Matthew asked.
“No, let’s make it ten thousand on the game. Might as well go all in.”
“I’ll let Mickey know.”
Then, Luca turned to face Guido with a tight smile. “Guido, how are you, my old friend?”
“Well, Boss,” Guido replied. “Happy birthday to your daughter, of course.”
Guido’s tone held no hint of his earlier rudeness or arrogance. He suddenly seemed like a whole new man with his hands limp at his sides and his head bowed slightly. Stepping forward, Guido took the hand that Luca outstretched and kissed the ring on the man’s index finger without hesitating. Then, Guido stepped back just as fast.
“Yes, thank you. Lora is vibrant tonight, isn’t she?” Luca glanced over Guido’s shoulder at Mac and Melina. “And who do we have here?”
Guido tipped his head to the side. “James Jr. Maccari and his—”
“Female,” Luca interrupted coolly.
The man’s gaze traveled over Melina with a disinterested stare that burned. She wasn’t so much offended by his rejection as the coldness in his eyes. Somehow, instantly, she knew this man disliked her. He practically radiated it.
Mac stiffened beside Melina, and his hand held hers tighter. “Boss.”
“You prefer Mac, yes?” Luca asked.
“Yes.”
“Good. James reminds me of your father, and that makes me want to blow your brains out. If it weren’t for his ability to clean up, when need be, I would have done that exact thing to him years ago.”
Mac cleared his throat and said, “I’m not my father.”
“Damn good thing,” Luca muttered around the rim of his brandy glass.
“Could we—” Guido started to say.
His words were interrupted by the hand that Luca raised.
“Quiet, Guido.” Luca flicked Melina with another cool stare before turning it on Mac. “You and I should have a chat, Mac. We’re due one. After all I’ve heard about you, it seems a shame that I’ve yet to meet one of the best soldatos that my famiglia has to offer.”
Guido’s cheek ticked at that statement. “We can do that, Boss.”
“You’ve been keeping this boy a secret, Guido,” the man on Luca’s left—Enzo—said.
“Not a secret, just—”
“It’s not important,” Luca interrupted. “Come, we can go to my office and have a proper drink without everyone watching.”
Melina could practically feel Mac’s tension release.
“Sure,” Mac said, stepped forward to follow the Pivetti Don as the man turned.
Melina moved to go, too.
Luca said over his shoulder, “Not her.”
Mac stopped his walk, his grip on Melina’s hand turning almost painful. “Pardon, Boss?”
“Not her,” Luca repeated without even turning around. “I’m sure she’ll be fine to mingle with the crowd, Mac. This shouldn’t be such an unusual event for a woman of her … business. Their typical dates tend to be wealthy. She knows how to act, how to talk, and whatever else. Besides, I happen to know that Melina also attended a few events in a ballroom while growing up, although I believe the military usually throws them for charities, awards and things.”
Melina straightened like someone had poured ice water over her head.
Military?
How did he know that?
Mac swallowed hard, passing Melina a look that asked a million questions.
“I’ll be okay,” she told him. “Go ahead.”
But she wasn’t. Not at all.
More than ever, Melina wanted to high tail it as fast as she could away from these people and the Pivetti boss.
The man didn’t like her and he knew too much about her.
That screamed bad news.
Mac released Melina’s hand. “Smile, doll. You look too beautiful not to smile.”
Melina forced a smile on her face for Mac’s benefit and nothing more. She could tell by the frown he tried to hide that he knew it was false.
“Go,” she told him.
“If I have to repeat myself,” Luca said, “then I will simply go to my office without having a meeting with you, Mac, while my men escort you from my property.”
Melina turned on her heel and walked away, not giving Mac a choice in the matter at all. Over her shoulder, she caught his gaze as he checked on her while he followed behind the boss, his Capo, and the other men.
Avoiding the people in the ballroom, Melina stole a glass of champagne from the servers as tables of meal platters were bro
ught out. More tables followed with chairs as the ballroom was transformed from an open space to a large dining room for the guests.
Unsure of what she should do, Melina stayed to the far wall and amused herself with the whispers of people around her. Mostly, they were talking about her. It only really became annoying when the color of her skin was mentioned more than once by a group of bitchy, statuesque women with plastic-looking faces that was huddled in a group only a few feet away from her.
They had to know Melina could hear them.
She refused to give them a reaction.
“Ladies,” a heavily accented voice said.
Melina found who the voice belonged to almost instantly. She recognized the accent as South African as a beautiful, dark-skinned woman stepped between Melina and the other women. Her dress was a long flowing, black number that showed off her tightly braided hair and her delicate neckline.
No doubt, Melina had a feeling she knew who the woman was. She just didn’t know her name. Mac hadn’t mentioned what it was earlier when he talked about the wife of Luca Pivetti.
“Since when has the color of a woman’s skin been an issue in this home?” the woman asked.
The other ladies gaped like fishes before scampering off when the woman flicked her wrist at them. She’d done it with such a flair that almost made it seem like she was shooing away garbage.
Once the group was gone, the woman spun around to face Melina. Her face was pixie-like in nature, though her lips were full and her eyes were a deep, dark brown.
“Thank you,” Melina said quietly.
“Oh, darling, don’t thank me for that. My God, they work every last nerve I have. What is your name?”
“Melina Morgan.”
“Hello, Melina.” The woman held out a hand, and Melina took it. “It’s nice to meet you. I rarely forget a face that enters my home, so I assumed you must be a new guest. I apologize for not coming over sooner. I’m Neeya Pivetti.”
Melina smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”
“I noticed you talking with my husband earlier. I hope he didn’t make you too uncomfortable. Luca doesn’t do well with newcomers.”
“It wasn’t that bad.”
“Liar. Luca is a tyrant and I know it.”
Melina laughed along with Neeya.
The woman’s husband might not have acted like he liked Melina very much, but his wife did. Melina would take it.
Women tended to hold the power, after all.
Men simply thought they did.
Silently, Mac followed behind the Pivetti boss and his men. As Luca sipped from his brandy glass, he barely acknowledged the people and staff he passed. The man was stiff like a board, and a certain air radiated from him in waves.
Melina had been right.
Money did smell like arrogance and entitlement.
Reminding himself that respect was the most important word of the evening, Mac stuffed his opinion of Luca down where it wouldn’t bother him. It certainly hadn’t helped that the Don seemed less than friendly to Melina, and his words to her came out even colder.
Behind the boss, Matthew and Enzo trailed close. They still kept a far enough distance from Luca that spoke to Mac of placement in the family. Luca held the highest spot, and so he walked ahead first. Matthew and Enzo backed their boss up as a consigliere and underboss, and so they walked second, behind the man in charge.
Mac and Guido walked side by side.
Strangely, Mac didn’t feel like the lesser. He knew he was to these men—a soldato for the family, working towards his button with a drunk for a father and little else. It was a known opinion, as far as that went.
Mac refused to let it affect him.
What he couldn’t ignore, however, was the nagging voice in the back of his mind reminding him over and over that he had been forced to leave Melina behind. That was not a part of Mac’s plans in anyway. He didn’t like the thought of her being left to fend for herself against people she didn’t know.
Not that someone might cause her issues, but Mac couldn’t be sure. Either way, it left a bad taste in his mouth and a sinking feeling in his stomach. No doubt, Melina could handle herself if need be. It still made Mac feel like a giant piece of shit.
“You good?” Guido asked.
“Sure, Skip.”
“Put your little woman out of your mind while we get this meeting over and done with, Mac,” Guido said too quietly for the men a few feet ahead of them to hear. “Luca’s got a hard-on for making sure no newcomers around his men and family are out to get him in some way. Once this night is over, you won’t have to worry about Luca again.”
Mac frowned, but hid it by glancing down at the floor. Guido made it sound like this would be Mac’s one and only meeting with the Pivetti crime boss. Mac fully intended to work his way into the Pivetti Cosa Nostra, and in doing so, would need to be front row and center for the boss to see Mac at his best, and unfortunately, some of his worst moments. He would need to be available for the boss, should Luca need something or call on him. It was how a solider went from the streets, to an associate, to eventually a made man in la famiglia.
It was a process. It sometimes took years, and for others, decades. It could be relentless, brutal, and demanding. Cosa Nostra was a bastard in that way to the men who were determined to join. Nothing about the mafioso life was easy or simple. Men gave everything to get their button, and more often than not, the button was the only fucking thing they were left with when it was said and done.
A man didn’t get his in to the family simply by knowing someone who knew someone else. Guido was very aware of all that shit.
The man also knew how badly Mac wanted his button.
Something was off with Guido. Maybe it was being close to the boss. Men tended to act differently when important people were around. It could have been that Guido was concerned about Mac’s first time having a conversation with Luca, too. Or, maybe it was something entirely different.
Mac decided to go along with whatever Guido wanted, or rather, make the man think that’s what was happening until the Capo’s intentions became clearer.
“You good?” Guido asked.
“Perfect,” Mac assured, grinning confidently.
Guido must have been satisfied with the response, because he rolled his eyes and patted Mac on the shoulder like he usually did when he was pleased with his soldato. “Good, good. Just keep quiet unless the boss asks something important from you directly. Otherwise, I’ll handle the talking.”
“I’m not an idiot, Guido. I can handle a single conversation. I do just fine when I go out into public by myself, you know.”
Guido’s hand landed hard to Mac’s back with enough force to sting. Mac didn’t even wince, but he got his Capo’s unspoken statement.
Shut up, do what I say, and follow the fucking rules, Mac.
“This isn’t the public,” Guido said low, eyeing the men walking ahead of them. “This is Cosa Nostra, my boy. Let a man with the button show you how it’s done.”
Mac’s jaw ticked in his agitation. Once again, Guido was shoving him behind to take center stage. Usually, he did nonsense like this whenever he wanted to take credit for something. Tonight, there was nothing to take credit or get praised for.
“Whatever you say, Skip,” Mac forced himself to say.
“Remember that, Mac.”
“Mac,” Luca called.
Mac’s gaze drifted to the boss. Luca shot a look over his shoulder and smiled. The sight took Mac by surprise, considering the fact that since he met Luca, the boss’s expression had barely changed from an emotionless disinterest.
“Yeah, Boss?” Mac asked.
“What do you prefer to drink?”
Nothing.
Mac didn’t drink at all.
He also couldn’t refuse a boss. Refusing was as bad as shunning. It screamed foul and rude for a man to reject a boss when he was being gracious with his time and space. Men earned themselves bullets for ungrateful
behavior.
“Whiskey, neat,” Mac lied.
“I’ll have that ready for you, soldato.”
“Here you are, sir,” a mousey-looking girl said.
Mac took the glass of whiskey she offered with a smile. The girl didn’t return it. The only reason Mac thought of her as a girl and not a woman was because she seemed far too young to be working in someone’s home as a maid … or whatever she was. Her tiny frame did little to fill out the uniform she wore, her small hands were fit for a child, and her quiet voice barely broke a whisper. A child was more like it. The top of the girl’s head barely reached Mac’s chest.
She was dressed like the people who had cleaned his shoes earlier in the night had been clothed, with a drab gray uniform, black shoes, and her hair pulled back tight. She didn’t look him in the eye, kept her head down, and scurried from the room like someone might snap her with a stick the moment Luca cleared his throat.
“Amusing, isn’t it?” Luca asked.
Mac stared in the direction the girl had gone. What about that was amusing?
“How old is she?” Mac asked, curious.
Luca tilted his head to the side like he was considering the question. “About how old would you say, Enzo?”
Enzo glanced up from the book he was looking over on Luca’s large, cherry-colored oak desk. “Marcus said fifteen when he sent her. If he was being truthful, then she’s about sixteen now.”
Mac recognized the name Marcus as belonging to Luca’s father-in-law. What he didn’t understand was the rest of Luca’s words. Sent her?
Luca must have noticed the confusion cracking Mac’s stony mask. “My wife’s father has a hand in a few different … trades.”
“Like diamonds,” Mac said.
“Ah, you’ve been doing your homework,” Luca said, a teasing praise coloring his tone.
It didn’t sound entirely innocent.
Matthew chuckled. “Nothing wrong with that, Mac. It’s good to know who you’re meeting. Don’t believe everything you’re told out there on the streets. More often than not, by the time a story has made it to the people outside of this house, it’s been changed and exaggerated so much that more of it is lies than it is truth.”