“Get out. Now,” I say, cocking my gun when he takes a step toward me. It takes all I have not to retreat.
“And here for a minute, I thought you were just an innocent girl caught in an ugly world.”
“I’m not a girl. I’m a woman.”
His gaze sweeps over me. “I can see that,” he says, and I think he expected my retort.
“I’ll shoot,” I say, this time taking that step backward when he keeps coming toward me. “I mean it.”
His smile widens, and he stops, putting his arms up in mock surrender. Without looking away from me, he gives an order to his men. “Put your weapons away, gentlemen. Emilia is just protecting herself against this perceived invasion.”
“My name is Em. And it’s not perceived. You broke into my home.”
“Not true. Building manager was kind enough to lend me a spare key.”
“What?”
He ignores me. “Emil was your father, right? Strange he named his daughter after him and not his son and successor.”
“My family is none of your business. Get out, because if you think I won’t shoot, you’re wrong.”
His smile vanishes. “You and I both know you won’t, so go ahead and put down your gun, Emilia. I won’t ask twice.”
I swallow. Somehow, he’s walked me backward far enough that my back is against the wall. When did that happen?
“Please go. I won’t ask again either,” I say, nerves making my voice quaver.
“All right, then, we’ll do it your way.”
Something moves in my periphery, distracting me, and that’s all it takes for him to have one of his hands around both of mine and the other around my throat. He pushes my arms downward and pins me to the wall. When he squeezes my wrists, the pistol drops to the floor. It goes off, and I scream.
Giovanni keeps me pinned there, pressing his body against mine, almost shielding me with it. He’s huge, and I can’t move. My heart seems to be trying to beat its way out of my chest. All I can do is feel his hard shoulder against my face, smell a dark hint of aftershave while I try to hold back weak, frightened tears.
“Christ,” he says a second later, backing off me. “Fucking amateurs.” He steps backward and picks up the pistol. “You need a Drop-Safety on this. How old is it?” He’s inspecting it, turning it this way and that.
But I can’t speak because his men have their guns out again and they’re all aimed at me. Giovanni shakes his head, empties my pistol of bullets, and tucks it and the ammunition into his pocket.
“That’s mine.”
“You’re going to hurt yourself with it.”
“I’m not an idiot.”
“Really? And you thought it was a good idea to point a loaded weapon at me with five of my men surrounding you? That doesn’t seem like something an intelligent person would do, Em.” He puts the emphasis on my name, and it pisses me off.
“Fuck you. I know you, and I know your kind. Get out of my house.”
“Ballsy, considering your situation.”
He steps to me again, this time any laughter is wiped away from his face as he closes his hands around my arms, rubs them, then squeezes. He watches me as he does, and it takes everything I have to stand still, to keep silent while he hurts me. This is just a sneak peek of that hurt. A preview of what he can do. I know that.
“Honestly, though, I prefer women with a little fire. They’re much more fun in bed.” He leans in close to say the next part. “They’re the dirty girls.”
One of his men chuckles. It wasn’t a whisper at all.
He pulls back, and I look up at him. He moves a hand toward my neck and sets two fingers on my throbbing pulse. He doesn’t comment. Just wants me to know he knows.
“I want to talk to your brother. I don’t care what you have to do to get ahold of him, but you do it and pass my message along. It’ll be in your best interest that he turns up by next week, understand?”
I swallow, processing his words.
What I’m seeing here, this cool, collected side of him—it’s his most dangerous side. I get the feeling he’s at his worst when he’s speaking calmly like this.
“Eyes up here,” he says, giving me a shake. I realize I’d shifted my gaze downward.
I blink and look up at him.
“Do you understand, Emilia?”
I nod.
“You’re a big girl. Use your words.”
I fist my hands.
He raises his eyebrows.
“Yes, I understand,” I spit.
“Good. Because I’d hate to have to hurt you.” He releases me, cocks his head to the side, then turns to the stove. “I think you burned dinner.”
I look over too. He’s right. I can smell that the sauce is stuck to the pot.
“That’s too bad,” he says, walking back toward me. He reaches out. I flinch, but he just tucks a hair that had come loose of my tight bun behind my ear and gives me a charming smile, baring his white teeth. “I’ll be seeing you again, Emilia Estrella.”
And with that, he walks out the door, his men following him. I slump against the wall and clutch my stomach and find the bullet hole in the baseboard, the one left by my gun when I dropped it.
I may have grown up in a cartel family, but this is the closest I’ve ever been to death.
2
Giovanni
Emilia Estrella isn’t what I expect.
“Keep a man on her. I want to know about everyone she has contact with,” I say once we’re on the street. I look up and down the pretty, wealthy Upper East Side neighborhood. No way she lives here on a hotel manager’s salary. I take one more glance at the townhouse, at the windows on the top floor.
“Yes, sir,” Vincent says. He’s standing beside my car, holding the door open.
“Make sure it’s not some idiot. And if she meets with that piece-of-shit brother of hers, you bring them both to me.”
“I’ll take care of it, sir.”
I get into the car, take the key to her apartment out of my pocket, and slide it onto my own key ring. I want access to Emilia Larrea-Estrella, and it’s not just because of her brother. But now isn’t the time to think about that other thing, even if I can’t get the image of those strange, striking serpentine eyes out of my head. I should have been better prepared. It would have been easy enough to get one fucking photo of her. If I’d done that, I wouldn’t be sitting here dissecting this right now because I’d have been prepared.
She’s not my ghost. I know that. But fuck me, when I first saw her, it took me back.
What she did, standing up to me—most people would cower. I knew she had a plan the moment she went into the kitchen. I still wonder if she’d have had the guts to use the pot of boiling water as a weapon. She seemed pretty calm, but they’re usually the most dangerous kind. If you can stay calm in a situation like the one she just experienced, it means you’ve seen some shit very close to home. I’m curious about that shit.
Or hell, maybe I just want to fuck her.
I reach into my pocket, retrieve my cell phone, and dial Dominic Benedetti, my cousin and the head of the Benedetti family to which I’m loyal. He answers on the second ring.
“Find that son of a bitch yet?”
“Not yet, but I met the sister tonight.”
“And?”
“I think she’s telling the truth about not knowing where he is, but I’ve tasked her with finding him. Gave her some incentive to do so.”
Dominic chuckles. “Killian Black is a good resource, too. He has a man, Hugo Drake, he’s also reliable. I thought with old man Estrella’s assassination, we were done with this shit, but the son is worse than the father.”
“Isn’t that always the case?”
He’s silent for a minute, and I think about what I just said. How true it is for him and for me.
“You sound like my brother Salvatore,” Dominic says.
Salvatore is Dominic’s older brother. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
&nb
sp; “I want this bastard.”
“No more than me. It was me he made the deal with. Me he thinks he’ll make a fool of.”
“Just make sure you bring him in alive. I plan on doing the killing myself, although I’m guessing there’s a fucking line out the door.”
It’s my turn to chuckle. “I’ll keep you posted. I plan on visiting the sister again tomorrow night.” I tell myself I’d be doing this even if she didn’t look like she does.
“I like your commitment.” He understands my meaning.
We hang up just as Vincent pulls into the garage. I don’t live too far from Emilia, and my building is about the same size as hers, except that I own all six floors.
I walk up the stairs and into the house, entering via the kitchen. While her apartment has a chic, feminine design, the decor in my house is completely modern. I make my way straight into my study to boot up my laptop. Tonight, I want to read all I can about the Estrella cartel, about Emil Estrella’s untimely death. And Emilia Estrella, who all but disappeared after that night.
I know enough about Alessandro. He’s a liar. A thief. And an idiot if he thinks he can double cross me or the Benedetti family. A fucking imbecile.
But it’s not him I’m interested in tonight. It’s Emil Estrella’s pretty, fiery daughter. The girl who looks like my past come back to haunt me.
The next night, I’m waiting outside The Clementine, the luxury boutique hotel where Emilia works. It’s a little after seven, and I know she’s going home right around now. I called in and checked her schedule. I also know that last night, after I left, she went out for a run, even though the rain had picked up again. The man I had on her lost her as he wasn’t on foot, and I’m curious where she went because she was gone for over two hours. Did she meet with her brother? Does she know where that little snake is hiding and keeping his secret? I would have said no after my first meeting with her, but maybe I’m wrong.
I’ve doubled the men on her, one on foot and one by car. I’ll find out soon enough.
And right now, I don’t want to think about that because Em Larrea, as she’s known here, just walked out the side door of the hotel and is heading to her car. Seeing her again is strange, puts me off balance. At least momentarily.
She’s not your fucking ghost.
I know that. I buried that ghost years ago.
With a shake of my head, I banish those thoughts and focus on her. She’s wearing a similar outfit to what she wore the other night, a beige two-piece, close-cut suit. She removes the jacket to reveal a ruffled silk blouse beneath, and that pencil skirt is making it hard to look away as she shimmies her tight little ass past my car and toward hers. My windows are tinted, so she doesn’t see me.
I open my door as soon as she gets to her car but before she’s dug out her keys.
“Emilia.”
She stops, and I can see from how her back stiffens that she recognizes my voice.
I take a few steps, and although it’s well past seven o’clock, the sun is still too hot in the sky. She turns slowly. I’m wearing dark sunglasses, but hers are in her hand. She’s squinting up at me. Her eyes are even prettier in the sunlight with gold specks lighting up that strange shade of green. Her dark hair is up in that same tight bun as last night. I have the urge to pull it out, to see it spilling down her back and framing her pretty face.
“You always leave work so late?” I ask.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“That’s not the warmest welcome when I’ve gone out of my way to come see you.”
She wants to say something, but her gaze moves to just over my shoulder, where I hear two women talking. I glance back at the employees who are leaving. They’re younger, maybe late teens, and in uniforms. Bar staff, probably.
“This is my workplace.”
“Would you rather I wait for you at your apartment?”
“What? No. What do you want? I have a week, you said so. I told you, I don’t keep in touch with—”
“I know what I said.”
The two girls quiet as they near their car, which is parked a few spaces away. I can see Emilia is uncomfortable, but that will only help my case.
“You shouldn’t be here. They don’t know who my family is here,” she says, her voice quieter.
“Then let’s go,” I say, gesturing to my car, where Vincent is standing watch.
“Where?”
“Dinner.”
“I have plans.”
“What plans?”
“None of your business. What’s this about? Really?”
The door opens again, and someone comes running from the hotel, calling out to her. “Em! Oh, I’m glad I caught you.”
When she reaches us, she stops, as if just now realizing I’m here, and fumbles for words when she sees me.
“Sorry, I didn’t know you were with someone.”
“I’m not,” Emilia says.
“Oh.” The girl looks from her to me and back.
“What is it?” Emilia asks her.
“The file for the Ragoni engagement party. I have some updated notes, and I didn’t have a chance to get them changed out before you left. Here you go.”
She hands over a folder to Em. It is clear she is waiting for an introduction. It’s kind of funny, watching Emilia try to pretend I’m invisible.
“Thank you.” There’s an awkward pause, and I clear my throat.
“I’m Giovanni Santa Maria,” I say. “A friend of Em. I believe we spoke on the phone earlier?”
“You what?” Emilia asks.
“Katy, isn’t it?” The girl nods with a huge smile on her face. “Katy here was kind enough to give me your schedule for the week.”
I see Emilia look at the girl, see the disbelief in her eyes, but Katy’s oblivious. She’s busy staring up at me.
“Oh. Mr. Santa Maria,” she says. Her cheeks flush red, and she holds out her hand. “I’m glad I could be of help.”
I turn back to Emilia. “So, we’ll pick up your car later. Ready?”
Katy stands there and watches us as Vincent opens the back door.
Emilia hesitates, but I know she’s not going to make a big deal out of it. Not in front of the girl. A moment later, she walks over to the sedan and climbs into the back, the high slit of her skirt giving me a glimpse of one slender thigh.
“Well, have a nice night, Katy.”
“Thank you. You too, Mr. Santa Maria. Bye, Em.” She gives an awkward wave. Emilia looks straight ahead.
When Vincent pulls away, I notice the girl is still standing there, watching.
“She seems quite anxious.”
“That was unnecessary. You can’t just show up at my work and…bully me into having dinner with you.”
“I didn’t exactly bully you. I invited you. I’m offended, Emilia.”
“My name is Em.”
“No, it’s not. It only became Em a few years ago. After your father’s death, if I understand correctly.” Her lips draw into a tight line. She’s obviously taken aback by my knowledge.
“How do you know that?”
“I make it my business to know about the people I do business with.”
“We don’t do business together.”
I shrug a shoulder. “I assume you like Italian, since you were attempting to cook it last night.” She shifts her attention to the window, and I can’t see her face.
“Where are we going?”
“A little place I know just outside the city. Beautiful views and delicious food.” She looks at me, opens her mouth to speak. “Don’t worry. I’ll take you back to get your car after dinner.”
“Why do you want to have dinner with me?”
“Because you make me curious.”
She doesn’t reply to this but watches the view outside her window as Vincent drives us to Trattoria Giacomo, one of the few remaining places near the city that tourists haven’t discovered.
Vincent parks the car. The lot is full, but there’s alw
ays a table for me. I climb out and walk around to her side to open the door.
“I hope you’re hungry.”
She reaches back inside for her jacket.
“Leave it,” I say. “I like you better without it.”
She gives me a glare and makes a point of putting the jacket back on even in the stifling heat.
“Suit yourself.” With a hand at her low back, I guide her to the entrance where we’re greeted by the owner. He takes us to a table on the deck outside, where we can see the view of the city but still have privacy.
“Thank you, Giacomo,” I say as I pull out a chair for my guest.
She sits, and I order a bottle of white wine. Emilia picks up her menu right away.
“I suggest the Spaghetti Vongole to start and any of the fish for dinner.”
She doesn’t reply. When Giacomo comes back with the wine, he pours for both of us. We order, and I’m happy to see she orders what I suggested.
“Good choice,” I say as I pick up my glass.
She picks up hers as well and takes a sip without touching it to mine first.
“You’re being quite rude.”
“You broke into my house with five of your men and threatened to hurt me if I don’t help you find my brother to do God knows what to him, and you think I’m being rude? We’re not friends. We’re not even acquaintances.”
“Okay, you make a point. How about we call a truce, then? Just for dinner.”
“I don’t understand why we have to have dinner at all.”
I shrug a shoulder. I want to seem casual. But looking at her in this light, when she’s squinting into the waning sun and I can see the flecks of gold in her eyes, it makes me remember so many things. “Like I said, you make me curious. And for the record, I don’t want to hurt you.”
“But for the record, you will if you have to.”
I take a moment to study her before speaking. “The keyword there is “if.” Who are you hiding from, Emilia?”
“I’m not,” she answers too quickly, then clears her throat. “I’m not in hiding.”
Giovanni Page 2