My doorbell rang and Adona and I hurried to answer it. She beat me to the handle and flung it open before leaning against the door frame.
“Hello,” she said, her voice breathy from sprinting.
“Hi.” His brow furrowed and his gaze went over her shoulder and found me. “Hey, Annetta. Dom’s busy with the party and couldn’t get away to pick you up this morning, so he asked me to.”
Adona’s gaze pleaded with me to make introductions, so I did. Mario shook her hand, and the smile she gave him was suggestive and a little frightening. Based on his amused smirk, I don’t think he minded, though. Where Dominico was dark and mysterious, Mario had a cute and charming Peter Pan look about him.
“Very nice to meet you,” Adona said.
He grinned and winked at her, and I could almost hear her panties falling. She slipped him a piece of paper that I’m pretty sure had her phone number on it before he and I climbed into his Bimmer and motored off.
“Sorry about that,” I said.
He chuckled. “No problem. She seems…fun.”
Worried he’d say something like crazy or horny, I felt relieved he’d settled on fun. I nodded in agreement. “Yep. Never a dull moment around that one.”
His grin only widened. “I could work with that.”
Thankfully Mario didn’t expand on how, but I had a sneaking suspicion he’d be giving Adona a call. We spent the rest of the drive chatting about the restaurant, and by the time he parked I felt like I’d made a new friend. I thanked him for the ride and slipped in through the back entrance.
The flurry of kitchen activity tensed my shoulders immediately. Determined to stay cool and collected, I rolled them back, washed up, and headed to my station. Three dishes were on the menu for the dinner, one of which was the Linguine di Mare I’d made during my interview. I’d be taking point on that dish, so I got to work prepping it for the approximate number of guests Collin and I had estimated would order it.
I finished prepping and then helped one of the other chefs. I didn’t even get a break before the orders came rolling in, and the next several hours were spent boiling, sautéing, and chopping. My first break didn’t come until well after we’d served dessert, and by then my bladder was about to burst. Since the employee restroom was occupied, I removed my apron and cap and headed for the customer bathroom.
Piano music played in the main room. I glanced inside long enough to confirm that the plates had been cleared away and several of the tables were pushed to the side to open up the dance floor. Men wore tuxes and the women sported fashionable gowns, each no doubt costing more than I’d make in a year. A lovely pink gown worn by a girl who I’d guess to be still in high school caught my eye. Plain-faced, with brown hair styled up on top of her head in a complicated-looking braid and makeup way too heavy, she looked like a little girl playing dress up.
She caught my eye because I recognized the smartly dressed, handsome man she was on the arm of.
Dominico returned her smile and patted her arm as he bent to say something.
None of my business, so why did my chest hurt so much? I forced my gaze off the couple and refocused on the restroom doors down the hall. My body went on autopilot, desperate to flee the scene, and I let it take me through the doors and into an empty stall. There I leaned against the wall and tried to figure out why I felt so upset.
Reasoning that it must be Adona’s fault for putting those ridiculous fantasies about Dominico in my head, I forced myself to take a couple of deep breaths and tried to let the idea of me and Dominico go. After all, he had never been anything more than friendly to me. He drove me to and from work; we weren’t dating. So why did I feel so betrayed?
What is wrong with me?
Dominico had lied to me. Which would explain why my cheeks felt like they were on fire and I desperately wanted to punch something. He said he worked security, but he sure as heck didn’t appear to be working tonight. That girl looked far too young for him, and he seemed to be entertaining her. Why?
Maybe they’re related?
Not with the way she looked at him. And who could blame her? Certainly not me. I didn’t even want a relationship, and Dominico’s charm had done me in.
So you have a stupid crush. Get over it.
As I tried to talk my heart into not hurting, the bathroom door opened and I heard giggling.
“Ohmigod, he is so fine. I can’t believe how lucky you are, Valentina,” a voice said. “Your dad said it’s for sure?”
“Yep,” another girl replied.
Not wanting to be accused of eavesdropping on customers and losing my job, I flushed the toilet and headed out of the stall to wash my hands.
The girl in the pink dress had brought in an equally young-looking friend. “Michael has to get married first, because that’s the way these things work,” she said, applying even more makeup to her already over-painted face. “But Don Mariani will announce Michael’s engagement as soon as Abriana’s on her honeymoon. Michael should be married by the time I turn eighteen.”
Michael from my interview? Michael, Dom’s brother?
“Michael is dreamy, too,” the first girl said. She wore a peach chiffon dress and had gems in her hair and stars in her eyes. I kind of wanted to smack them both into reality. High school girls should be focusing on their futures and realizing their own dreams. Not fawning over some way-too-old for them boys. “I wonder who he’s gonna marry?”
“Father said Michael will end up with one of the Parrino girls, but I don’t know which one.”
“Well one of those girls will end up very happy. Can you imagine being lucky enough to be married to the Mariani heir?”
“Hey, I’m not doing bad. I mean, Dom is a lot hotter than Michael.” She sighed.
Married…to Dom. She’d said her dad had confirmed it. I felt sucker punched. Forcing myself not to react, I kept my gaze lowered, dried my hands, and headed out the door. The stupid, girly part of me wanted to rush out of the restaurant and hop on the first bus home, but thankfully the practical side kicked in, forcing me to march back into the kitchen and finish my job. I’d worked hard for this opportunity, and I sure wasn’t going to let some stupid crush on some boy I barely knew ruin it for me.
“You okay?” Brandon asked the second he saw my face.
“Oh yeah, fine. Just tired.” I forced a smile and batted away his concern with a hand. “Let’s get this finished up so we can all go home.”
I busted my butt to get out of there while my brain worked out the puzzle. Brandon had been right, Dominico didn’t work there. The party must have been for someone in his family…a family so important he and Michael had been in on hiring the help for it. Dominico was dating the jail-bait in the pink dress, and eventually they’d get married. No big deal. It’s not like we had anything going on. And good riddance! After all, I had no room in my life for some rich, smooth-talking charmer.
So why did my chest suddenly feel like a gaping hole?
Unable to reason my stupid emotions away, I focused on scrubbing my station until it sparkled. Then, because I didn’t know who—if anyone—would be waiting for me outside the restaurant, I asked Brandon if I could bum a ride.
“Yeah, of course,” he said, grabbing his keys out of the break room. “You want to grab a drink at that bar on the corner first?”
A drink? My chest hurt so bad I wanted to down the liquor of an entire bar to kill the pain.
I must have hesitated too long, because Brandon hurried to add, “Just as friends. To celebrate that this dinner is finally over and things can get back to normal.”
Now that was something I could drink to. Wondering if I’d ever see Dominico again, I forced a smile. “I’m in.”
Ten minutes later I sat on a barstool beside Brandon and ordered something fruity and loaded with alcohol. I downed it and nibbled on the pineapple slice as I ordered another. Thankfully Brandon was a gentleman, because I don’t even remember how many drinks I consumed that night. I vaguely recall him
pouring me in and out of his car and walking me to my front door, but everything else was a blur.
Turns out alcohol only made things worse, because the next day, both my head and my chest hurt.
CHAPTER NINE
Dominico
THE ENGAGEMENT PARTY went off without a hitch, yet still managed to be a complete nightmare. Thanks to Annetta’s culinary wizardry, the seafood pasta was great—I heard nothing but compliments about the other dishes as well—and all the bosses appeared to enjoy themselves, but being around Valentina gave me my first peek into my own personal Freddy Krueger-inspired horror to come. And judging by the forced smile stretched across Abriana’s face, she felt trapped in the same nightmare.
I sidled up to my sister and asked, “Hey, how you holdin’ up?”
“It’s like I’m not even here,” she replied, glaring daggers at her fiancé. “I think he’s talked to everyone in the building but me. If this is any indication of what our marriage will be like, I’ll need pets—lots of pets—to keep from talking to myself.”
Mobster wives were often lonely, and Abriana and I had witnessed enough of Mamma’s isolation to know how often Father neglected her. Mamma never seemed to mind, though. She stayed busy with us, first through volunteering with the PTA and in more recent years by gathering with other wives together several times a week. In fact, Mamma seemed happier and more relaxed when my old man stayed out of the house. Whenever he was home the whole household tiptoed on eggshells, careful not to piss him off.
Since I didn’t want to tell Abriana she might be better off not having the attention of her fiancé, I squeezed her shoulders and did my best to reassure her. “You’ll get through it. We’ll help you.”
She frowned. “I know, Dom. It’s just not what I expected.”
Curious, I asked, “What did you expect?”
“Some sort of acknowledgment of my existence would be nice.” She raised her chin and looked across the dance floor. “You have a borderline stalker on your hands. My God, Dom, she’s just a kid.”
I followed her gaze and suppressed a groan at the sight of Valentina Pelino smiling and waving at me. I’d never realized how young she was until that night. “I know! She keeps talking about her high school prom like she’s waiting for me to ask her to it.”
Laughter bubbled up from Abriana’s chest. I glared at her.
“You didn’t even go to your own prom,” she said.
And I hadn’t. I’d spent enough time in school to learn the necessities before Father yanked me out and put me to work. I didn’t even make it through tenth grade.
“Well, that’s sweet,” Abriana said.
“Yeah. Sweet.” I forced a smile and returned Valentina’s wave, which unfortunately encouraged her to approach.
“You look beautiful, Abriana,” Valentina gushed. “Congratulations on the engagement.”
“Oh yes, I’m so lucky,” Abriana replied, her sarcasm clearly lost on the girl, who giggled and batted her lashes before tugging me toward the dance floor like an overzealous puppy.
I didn’t want to be rude and offend her or her family, but I’d mistaken Valentina for boring, never realizing how annoying she could be. She blabbed on about high school drama while I bit my tongue and zoned out, nodding whenever she paused. She spoke of no goals beyond graduation, marriage, and children, and bragged about her old man like he was some sort of superhero who solved all of her problems rather than a crime lord who made people disappear.
I suffered through two chatter-filled dances before excusing myself to “talk business” with Mario. We slipped out the back door and grabbed a smoke while watching the street. There had been no attacks during the party, but none of us would be letting our guard down any time soon.
“Why do you think the Durantes are being so quiet tonight?” Mario asked.
I shrugged. “Who knows what they’re planning? But if Father makes me marry Valentina, I hope they crash our engagement party.”
Mario chuckled.
“Thanks again for picking up Annetta,” I said, glancing back toward the restaurant. “Wonder how she did tonight.”
“What’s going on between you and this girl?” he asked, watching me. “Usually you’ve gotten ’em out of your system by now.”
“It’s not like that.” I don’t know why, but I didn’t want Mario to think badly of Annetta. “I’m not sleeping with her.”
His eyes widened in surprise. “Huh?”
“Yeah, we went out for drinks once, but I’ve been busy and…”
“Wow, you’re really sprung on this chick.”
He had no idea. “No, it’s fine,” I lied. “We’re just friends. She’s…nice.”
It sounded lame even in my own ears, and one glance at Mario’s face told me he wasn’t buying it. I glanced at my watch, wondering how much longer we’d have to endure the party, and tried not to think about Annetta. I wanted to sneak away and congratulate her on a job well done, but knew my sudden appearance in the kitchen would be noticed. Father was still pissed at the entire borgata because we hadn’t been able to turn up Chains and his crew yet, and I had no desire to push my old man. I needed to play the part he had for me beside the high school girl who made me feel like a goddamn pedophile.
Something had been developing between me and Annetta, but it needed to end now. Easy, since I wouldn’t be giving her rides anymore. Which also meant no more drinks, no more watching her face light up or hearing her laugh. With the dinner over, she’d be safe as long as I stayed away from her. It was the right thing to do, so why did it feel so wrong?
Mario and I stayed outside for as long as was acceptable before heading back in. We kept to the shadows and bent our heads together like we were deep in discussion to dissuade Valentina from approaching again. Thankfully, the night ended before she could bug me for more dances, but unfortunately the girl was far from finished with me.
CHAPTER TEN
Dominico
WITH THE ENGAGEMENT party out of the way, the family went back to business as usual. Since no one had unearthed Chains and his crew, Father was still on the warpath, making it clear our heads were going to roll if we didn’t bring him theirs. Michael and I split up to increase our chances, me riding with Mario while my brother teamed up with one of Carlo’s soldiers. Regardless, it took five more days before we found Chains.
I knew Chains was dead before we got the call. I knew it because we’d been watching his usual haunts, including his mom’s house and his girlfriend’s apartment, and hadn’t caught so much as a whiff of him. We had, however, tapped into her phone and listened as his mom called the cops, the news, local politicians, and anyone else who might be able to help her find her missing son.
See, Chains was Italian. And any respectable Italian man would tell you that if his life was in danger he might go a couple of weeks without getting laid, but there’s no way he’d make his mom worry like that. He would find a way to let her know he was okay.
Chains’s body showed up at a landfill northeast of Vegas. Carlo called me and Michael in and sent us up to look it over and see if anything on him would point back to the Durante’s. Chains’s killer had dumped his body naked, though, and, judging by his ripe condition, Chains had been dead for a few days.
Michael kicked the body over and we both almost lost our lunch. I covered my nose with my jacket and got a brief look at the body before nausea forced me to turn away. The gunshot wound on the side of his head looked like it could have been self-inflicted. Of course, Chains would have had to drive his own bare ass to the dump before his brains leaked out of the hole, so Michael and I ruled out suicide.
We glanced over the area long enough to admit we’d never be able to find any clues and then got back into Michael’s car.
Since Chains was the only participant in the hit we’d been able to identify, we were screwed. Knowing our old man would freak the hell out about the literally dead end, we headed for Carlo’s house. He listened to our story, poured himself two
fingers of cognac, and chain-smoked Cubans for five minutes before calling Father. Our old man screamed so loudly, Carlo had to hold the phone away from his ear.
When Father’s rant finally ended, Carlo put the receiver back to his cheek and said, “Yes, Boss,” before hanging up. Then he turned toward us. “Whoever did this is covering their tracks. Chains blabbed, and they had to know we were on to him, so they took him out. But we know he had help. We need to find those guys and get this situation straightened out.”
Carlo didn’t mention how we’d find them, though, and Michael and I were fresh out of ideas. We left his office feeling frustrated and hopeless.
“I’m spent,” Michael said, rubbing a hand down his face. “I can’t wait till we find the bastards who did this so I can make them pay, but I need a minute. There’s a couple soldiers working on a job I want in on. I’m gonna peel off and join them for it. I gotta do something that gets results before I blow my own goddamn brains out.”
Father wanted us back out there pounding the pavement, but we needed a break. “Yeah, I’m gonna go take care of something too,” I said. I had nothing to do, but needed to be away from him and the family for a while.
Michael dropped me off at the casino, where I climbed into my Porsche and took off. I had no destination, but just turned off my mind and drove. I didn’t even realize where I’d ended up until I turned down Annetta’s street. It had been days since I’d last seen her, and although I knew I needed to stay away, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. Even as I parked in front of her house, I told myself I shouldn’t be there. Yet, I couldn’t force myself to drive away. Her father’s beat-up Chevy truck wasn’t in the driveway.
He’s probably working. They probably both are.
I sat in the car a while longer and fiddled with my radio. I’d made the oldies station one of my presets after that first drive with Annetta, so I turned it on. The DJ was taking requests and someone called in the song “Could It Be I’m Falling in Love” by the Spinners. I’d heard bits and pieces of the song before but had never listened to the lyrics. Now that I did, I couldn’t help but wonder what I felt for Annetta. I didn’t think I’d fallen in love or anything—I didn’t believe in all that shit—but I had found a way to make Antonio’s on the way to all my destinations in hopes of catching a glimpse of her.
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