by Soraya Naomi
Walking into the kitchen, I grab my phone from the counter and swipe open the screen.
Luca: Fallon, I’ll be home an hour later – meeting with Adriano.
I type back that it’s okay, yet as I grip my device, I realize that Luca hasn’t once called me dolcezza since that fateful day, which saddens me. Then, all of a sudden, it hits me like lightning that the message I supposedly received from Luca stated dolcezza. It’s a name not a lot of people know about.
“Oh, my god,” I utter, an icy chill running down my spine.
It’s a nickname only high ranking Syndicate members know of, so I can substantially narrow down my list of suspects to five men and their significant others.
This piece of information causes a firestorm of suspicions to rear up inside me. I start to pace the floor, firmly holding Noah, knowing that I need to confide in someone, but if I mention this to Luca without proof, it’ll alienate him from me again.
I’m in limbo about what to do until the buzzer rings. I tread to the front door, and when I push the button next to the elevator, it whooshes open and I come face-to-face with Michael.
“Hey...what’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Do I tell him or do I keep it to myself while I’m positive someone from the inside is messing with me? Because I did not imagine getting that message!
Conflicting emotions clash in my brain while I mull over my options.
CHAPTER 17
Luca
“THE CREW FINISHED YESTERDAY,” Tez explains to Adriano and me as we walk down the wine-red carpeted hallway of the underground club, the smell of fresh paint invading my nostrils while I send a quick message to Fallon that I’ll be home later.
“We’re right on track to start remodeling upstairs on February first, so we can have a closing down party this Saturday. Then, from this Sunday until February fourteenth, the entire club will be closed.” Ending at the heavy wooden doors, Tez opens them to lead us inside.
I gaze into the expansive area with a ten-foot high ceiling and black walls. The open space only contains one glass partition on my left side, which exposes the bar behind it that has shelves with green spotlights built into them and decorated with numerous brands of liquor bottles running up to the ceiling. Then I notice the polished black and white floor we had upstairs that’s been placed here, giving it a distinguished finish.
“It looks amazing,” Adriano observes, moving past rows of silver bar stools along the glass partition as he rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt.
“Wait. Check this out.” Tez rushes to the far end of the room where there’s a raised podium for the DJ and hikes up the three steps, pressing a button on the panel.
At that moment, a white square that’s big enough for several people rises up a few inches from the center of the dance floor.
“We didn’t have this upstairs,” Tez speaks, obviously excited.
Adriano grins, raising his brows at me as though he’s impressed.
“Does everything work?” I ask.
“Yes. All the ceiling lights and the speaker system have been tested. We didn’t have to make any difficult adjustments because the underground was already soundproofed.”
“Are you sure all the extra hallways have been bricked over?” Adriano inquires. “I only want the hallway we just came through and the fire exit to be accessible.”
“Yes, everything has been closed,” Tez says as Adriano returns to me while Tez switches on a different button, making purple and blue lasers flash across the dance floor.
“They did well,” Adriano compliments, stopping in front of me as I nod, yet he keeps regarding me before he continues, “How’s everything at home? Cam and I have barely seen Fallon. Actually, I haven’t seen a lot of you either.”
“I’ve been trying to keep myself and my wife sane,” I point out, causing his expression to soften. “But we’re fine. There haven’t been any issues.”
“I’m glad everything’s okay. However, if anything is wrong, you have to tell me. I’ve given you space because you’re my friend and not only my underboss, but I can’t have an underboss with a wife who’s a liability. I know you’ll go far to protect Fallon...”
I tense and defend, “Because you’re my friend, you know I’d inform you if I were to foresee any issues. It was a strange situation, but she’s like us now – she can let things go without having answers because she knows how this world works. She realizes she most likely was confused. It’s also working well with Michael. As long she obeys me, we’ll be fine.”
He keeps studying me and then catches me off guard. “If everything between you and Fallon is fine, then why are you so friendly with the blonde?”
“What blonde?”
“Don’t play dumb with me. What’s between you and the bartender?”
“Why does everyone think there’s something going on?”
“Because you’re not one to be friendly with people.”
Christ. The thing between me and the blonde is whiskey, yet I don’t want my boss to find out.
“We’re not friends; she just happened to wait on me a few times, and she’s nice.”
“Nice...” his words trail off ominously. “Do I need to worry?”
“About what? That I’d do something foolish?”
“Yes—I don’t know. I’m used to talking to you throughout the day to keep me apprised, but you’re MIA often, and I’m not sure you’re with Fallon and your kids during those times.”
“Well, I have been,” I retort in good conscience.
After Noah got hurt, I mislead him and Fallon and almost spiraled down into drinking for only those first three days, but I’ve tightened the reins on my emotions. I stopped drinking after Fallon promised me that she’d trust Michael and listen to me, which she has. As soon as I text her, she answers. She always carries her Smith & Wesson and keeps Michael in the loop about her daily business. Her easygoing, graceful demeanor has returned, which enables me to control my fury, making me enjoy going home again. In the end, loving Fallon is a double-edged sword: it strengthens me as much as it can weaken me.
“Don’t worry. Fallon needed some extra attention and I gave it to her. Now, you’ll see we’re back to normal.”
“Then bring Fallon around the family. Stop secluding yourself,” he instructs.
What he doesn’t know is that I did that to keep Fallon away from the bartender because if anyone in the Syndicate were to discover that I drank whiskey, it could cause unwarranted problems.
Before I can answer, Tez calls out to Adriano from across the room, “By the way, Adriano, Carmine’s coming in so that we can interview the bouncer.”
“Okay,” Adriano shouts before addressing me, “Get a babysitter for the party this Saturday. We’re all going.”
“I will,” I say, turning when I hear the doors opening behind me and see Carmine coming through. “I’m going home.”
Adriano nods and I exit, taking the elevator up to the dance club that’s filling rapidly. Simone’s behind the bar tapping a beer, so I approach the counter and wait at the end. When she hands over a drink and glances left, she spots me and closes the distance between us instantly.
“Hey, Luca,” she says in a sultry tone, tucking her blonde hair behind her ear in the same manner that Fallon does.
I’m not proud that I’ve let a simple bartender in on a secret, but there’s something about her that makes me feel comfortable.
“A whiskey?”
“No.” I lean forward and she mirrors the action. “I have a question.”
Her red-painted lips twitch. “Shoot.”
“Do you talk to any of the other men here?” I want to know if I need to tell her that she can’t tell anyone I’ve been drinking.
Her thin brows rise and then she gives me a scandalous smile, thinking I might be jealous, which is quite presumptuous. “No. No one from management talks to me except you.”
I school my expression into one of indifferen
ce, but a customer calls for her, so she swivels around. Rolling my neck, I realize that I was treading on thin ice by allowing a bartender to chat with me while I was intoxicated. On the other hand, I don’t think there will be any problems with her because I won’t touch another drink, so I stride out.
When I glance up, I catch Adriano watching me from the balconied second floor with an unreadable expression on his face as he walks to his office.
Acting as if nothing’s amiss, I retain my composure until I reach the back exit and get into my car to drive to the Blackhall. To be with the one I need who keeps me centered, to be with my solace.
Unfortunately, I don’t anticipate how dead wrong I am.
CHAPTER 18
Fallon
“HEY...WHAT’S WRONG? You look you’ve seen a ghost,” Michael says as the elevator closes behind him.
“What are you doing here?”
Michael, who’s very structured and organized, holds up a pink bib and wool knitted hat that belong to Milana. “You left this in my car.” Placing the items on the kitchen counter, he repeats, “Fallon, what’s wrong?”
I bite my lip, rocking Noah on my arm, wondering whether to speak up, yet I’m unable to keep it to myself. “I remembered something that was written in the message. Something that would be a huge clue.”
His expression doesn’t betray the slightest flicker of emotion. “What do you mean? I thought you and Luca decided to move on from that because it seems that you never even got a message that day.”
“We did, and I tried to forget it. You know that; I’ve worked closely with you and let you into our daily life as Luca requested. But this morning, I remembered that the message said dolcezza, which is a nickname only the Syndicate high ranking men know about. No one else knows Luca calls me dolcezza.”
“Are you sure no one else knows the moniker?”
“One hundred percent sure,” I reply with conviction.
As Michael assesses me, his brows pull together. “Since you hit your head and your story was discounted, I’ve gone along with what everyone else has concluded, even though I do believe that you think you received a text. I know what I’m about to say may not make sense to you – it doesn’t make sense to me either, but you don’t come off as unstable or volatile to me.”
Shocked, I stare at him before relief fills my cells. “Why didn’t you speak up? If I had had just one person to support me, maybe Luca would have believed me or at least given my story some merit.”
“It’s not my place. I just joined the team.”
“And why can’t Luca see that I’m not unstable? I thought he trusted me...”
Tilting his head, he softens his tone. “Because there wasn’t a message on your phone, it’s that simple. It has nothing to do with that he doesn’t trust you. Regardless, if what you say is true, then there’s a spy within the high ranks, and that’s highly unlikely. Adriano would never hurt you or the twins. Logan is more your friend than Luca’s. Carmine would never go against Adriano because they’re brothers and neither would Henry because he’s his successor. What would any of them have to gain? However, it’s impossible for anyone outside the mafia to get your phone number, so your new piece of information supports your theory – for once, which makes this a very confusing situation.”
Rounding the couch, I gently lay Noah down next to Milana and look at my beautiful babies. “Exactly. No one from outside the Syndicate has my number, so it’s someone from the inside.”
“You think – if you actually ever got the message,” he counters, and my hardening gaze shoots to him.
“Why do people keep saying that? How can I just imagine what happened? I’m not an idiot!”
“But you did hit your head the week before the incident with Noah...And we keep coming back to the same question, Fallon: where’s that text?”
I throw up my hands in annoyance. “I felt fine and the Syndicate doctor examined me twice. If the doctor had said I had a concussion, then maybe I could’ve gotten things mixed up. But I don’t have a head injury...So what do I do?” I ask, realizing that I’m beginning to trust Michael since he can be objective during stressful circumstances and he never plays Luca and me against each other. Quite the opposite, he’s often here to help me – just as much as he helps Luca – like he promised when we met.
“The only thing you need is proof of that message. If you’re positive you didn’t imagine it,” he reminds me sternly.
“I am sure. Do I tell Luca?”
“I can’t answer that; that’s between you and him. But I can tell you that if Rachel’s death taught me anything it’s that no one can be trusted. Her death was due to an inside job,” he explains, so I send him a sympathetic smile.
A last, I understand why he’s the only one who’s willing to at least give some consideration to my story. Although when Michael says his late fiancée’s name, it sidetracks me. He’s never spoken about his past, and we’ve been too busy getting acquainted and making sure we communicate well for me to ask him about it.
I want to learn more about him, yet I don’t want to pry, so I start with, “How come you’re always working? Don’t you have any family?”
He gazes past my shoulder, and for a moment, I think he won’t answer until he speaks in a forlorn voice, “No. People who join the mafia rarely have families. Do you?”
“No.” I pass the coffee table to stop in front of him. “My only family is Luca and the Syndicate.”
“So is mine. But we’re family now and we protect one another, so promise me that you won’t do anything stupid and go out investigating on your own again. I don’t have to remind you how pissed off that’ll make Luca. You can’t do anything reckless or I will tell Luca, okay?”
Shit! “No! You can’t tell Luca. And you’re right; without proof, I have nothing,” I evade his request as it dawns on me how seriously Michael takes his job.
When it comes down to it, unless I have proof, he won’t help me either. A feeling of loneliness wells inside me as I brush my side-swept bangs out of my eyes, not knowing how to proceed. I must protect my kids but can’t simply rely on others. Especially when I’m sure I’m missing something important. I refuse to ever put Noah or Milana in danger again, yet the need to seek answers is becoming increasingly urgent.
All of a sudden, the elevator glides open and Luca steps into the apartment, his eyebrows lifting slightly when he sees Michael.
“Hey,” he greets him, kissing my mouth and winding his arm around my middle as he stands beside me, which astonishes me.
Though his affectionate manner simultaneously comforts me too. And when his fresh cologne surrounds me, I can’t help but stare at his controlled movements. His long fingers unbutton the jacket of his charcoal three-piece suit, exposing a perfectly ironed white dress shirt and red power tie.
“I just brought some things Fallon left behind in my car.” Michael stretches his arm to check the time on his watch. “But I’m going to dinner now. I’ll see you two tomorrow.” Strolling to the door, he pushes the elevator button and mouths, “Don’t do anything rash.”
While I’m itching to update Luca, the fear of his reaction prevents me. Especially after he playfully pulls me in front of him.
Gripping his lapels, I ask, “What did Adriano want?”
Luca’s been keeping me away from the Syndicate; I presume it’s because he doesn’t trust me fully yet. The last time I was at the club, I relayed my story and caught him off guard. I’m guessing he wants to avoid such a situation.
“He showed me the remodeled dance club.” He drags me close and hugs me to him, the heat of his chest pressing into mine, making me feel cherished again like I’ve yearned for.
Curious, I question him further, “How does it look?”
“It looks great. The space is twice as big as upstairs, and it’s an open floor plan. Along with the semi-high ceiling, it doesn’t feel as if you’re underground.”
“The crew’s worked fast.”
&nbs
p; “Everything’s going according to schedule without any problems.” Tilting his head, he adds with an obvious double meaning, “Thank god – I don’t need any issues at the moment.” He expels a significant sigh as my gaze moves down the row of buttons on his white dress shirt.
“We’re having a party Saturday before we shut down Club 7, so I’m taking you out. We have to ask Julia to babysit.”
I nod eagerly as Luca rests his forehead against mine, causing my eyes to fall closed after his charming side reappears. It tears me apart with indecision.
To speak up or not to speak up?
Luca interrupts my inward battle and pulls back to yank loose his tie. “I want to get out of this suit. I’m going to change. I’ll be right back.” He releases me, looking at me with that composed yet powerful expression he’s mastered to a tee before he saunters around the couch. As he passes the bassinet, he caresses our babies’ heads and continues on down the hallway.
Meanwhile, I palm my forehead, feeling torn; however, Luca returns quickly in his customary grey sweats that hang low on his hips, baring his muscled torso. It’s what he wears when he’s staying in and wants to get comfortable.
I’ve hankered for some normalcy between us, and I’m afraid that one word about the supposed message will take us ten steps back. I don’t want to upset my husband, because he’s the underboss and he can’t afford to be unstable. More importantly, I need Luca close. He’s my tranquility as well. At the end of the day, I do everything to keep him happy and with me. The need to avoid Luca isolating himself from me overrides all other emotions, and I decide to keep my discovery to myself – until I find evidence.
With a wicked gleam, Luca edges closer. Lately, we’ve only had time for a quickie here and there because the twins need constant care and I’m often exhausted at night.