by Renee Rose
He rubs his jaw, his gaze astute. “Ah. And you’re here running this plan by me because you need money to disappear?”
My stomach knots. I know mafia men. Better to come clean. Own it all. Put the cards on the table and let them decide what to do with you. “Yes. And I wanted to make sure you wouldn’t be angry. I don’t want to start a war.”
He’s quiet a long moment, simply regarding me. My father would be doing something with his hands—lighting a cigar or smoking it. Not Nico Tacone. It’s hard not to squirm under his direct regard. Finally, he says, “Nor do I.” He stands up and walks to a safe. “Yeah, I’ll bankroll your disappearance. I got no problem with that. Bring me the letters first, and I’ll set you up with whatever you need.”
The sensation of wings taking flight in my chest is like nothing I’ve ever experienced. It’s more than relief. It’s freedom.
My life will be mine to live.
Mine, alone.
I dig in my purse and pull out three envelopes, already addressed and stamped but not sealed. I push them across the desk.
Tacone’s lips quirk when he takes them and reads them one by one. They’re identical, typed up but hand-signed.
“You need a new ID? Passport? Credit cards?”
I’m soaring. This is all too easy.
“Yes, please.”
He nods and rises from the desk. “Okay. I’ll have Tony set you up. He’ll give you enough cash to get started, too. Whatever you need. But, Jenna?”
I look up at him. His expression goes stern. “Don’t come back here. Don’t contact me. You need something, you get in touch with Tony. He’ll help you out. Capiche? And make sure he can get word to you, too. I’ll let you know when the contract is dissolved.”
I stand. I seriously want to kiss the guy’s ring right now and swear my undying fealty. I just don’t want to swear my life over to his marriage bed.
“Thank you, Mr. Tacone—Nico. Thanks for being so understanding and generous.”
“Same.” We give each other cheek-kisses and he opens the door and speaks in an undertone to Tony who nods and motions for me to come forward.
I step forward, into my future. My freedom.
The mafia princess sheds the crown.
Chapter 13
Sondra
“Good morning, Ms. Simonson,” the security guy nods at me as I step out of the elevator. I get this preferential treatment all over the casino now. Word is out that I’m Nico’s girl. I get waved to the front of the Starbuck’s line, my favorite drink already prepared for me.
When I step out on the curb, the valet attendant already has Nico’s Mercedes waiting for me. I take the keys and pretend driving a Mercedes is a totally normal thing for me.
It’s hard not to eat it all up. It’s hard not to let myself enjoy all that it means to be Nico Tacone’s girlfriend.
But it’s a total fantasy world. If I were going to stay here long-term, I’d need to get out and make friends, be in nature, build my own life.
For the moment, though, I’m letting myself enjoy it. Nico stuffed a wad of cash in my purse this morning and told me to go clothes shopping. His cousin Sal is getting married this afternoon and we’re invited. When I asked what to wear, he told me to buy a dozen outfits and let him pick.
Silly man. Silly, adorable, controlling man.
I’ve met Sal—he’s one of the guys with a suite on the same floor as Nico—but we haven’t talked. I know nothing about him. This will be the first time I get to engage with Nico’s family, which I know he didn’t want.
But if I’m really his girlfriend, and not some kept woman, I should bridge this gap. Figure out if I really could handle being permanently attached to a man born into a crime family.
Which probably means I should ask him some hard questions. How bloody are his hands? How legal is his business? Because from what I can tell, he’s running a fully profitable casino. I’m not sure where the illegal part comes in.
But I’m sure it’s there. And I don’t know if I really want to know the answers.
I head to the Saks off 5th outlet and start pulling outfits. It’s extravagant and ridiculous, and I never spend money on clothes for myself, but the fact that he gave me an assignment and wants to pick from the results makes it a fun game. I fill a cart with clothing and drag things into the dressing room, ten pieces at a time.
Two hours later, I’m laden with five giant bags of clothes, shoes and a jacket, and I head back to the casino. The valet attendant greets me like I’m the Princess of Wales and the bellhop insists on carrying my shopping bags up to my room.
Nico enters a few minutes later without knocking.
“How’d you know I was back?”
His lips twitch. “I asked the valet to let me know.”
I cock a hip. “I’m never sure whether to be flattered or creeped out by how controlling you are.”
Nico shoves his hands in his pockets. It’s a signal of harmlessness—he’s not advancing on me for once. “I know I talk a lot of shit, baby. I like to pretend I own you. But I would never stop you from doing anything you wanted to do, even if it meant walk out of here and never come back.” The words seem to cost him, because the muscles in his throat tighten and a muscle ticks in his jaw.
I close the distance between us, press my body up against his. His strong arms band around me. “That’s all I need to know,” I murmur.
“Sondra,” he murmurs, leaning his forehead against mine. “You’re one in a million. The way you always take me for what I am.”
I swallow. Now is the time for the difficult conversation. “Nico…tell me the worst. Who are you? What are you involved in? What have you done?”
His arms tighten around me and his face goes pale. “Do I need to search you for a wire?” The joke is forced and neither of us smile.
“Truly, Sondra, I can’t tell you. I wouldn’t tell you anything that would put you in an awkward or dangerous position—with my family or the feds. And don’t think I don’t know you have an uncle in the FBI.”
I flush and shove his chest. “You still think I’m a spy?”
“Of course I don’t. No, no, no. Listen.” He cradles my face. “What prompted this? Why are you asking?” I look away, but he turns my face back. “Are you trying to figure out if you can stay?”
I nod.
He blows out a long, slow exhale. “I’ll tell you this. I left Chicago because I didn’t want blood on my hands. I didn’t want to spend my life looking over my shoulder for the next gunman or Fed trying to bring me down. I believed big corporations do the same kind of shit my family did on the street, on a large scale and it’s legal. And I wanted that. Large scale, legal business. I already knew about gambling, so I came to Vegas.
“But I was bankrolled by the family, which means I can’t ever be truly free. I launder their money. I still employ the old-school tactics of intimidation and fear when necessary. Not murder,” he shakes his head. “No drugs. No sex trade. Nothing else illegal. And if I could cut ties and go one hundred percent legit today, I’d do it. I just haven’t figured out how.” He strokes my face with his thumb. “So now you know. That’s everything. Well, almost everything. I have one death on my hands from when I got made. It’s a requirement. It made me sick and it solidified my resolve to get out and never go back.” There’s a wobble in his voice and I throw myself against him, pressing my cheek against his chest.
I want to tell him I’m sorry for his family, his past, but how do I say that without negating who he is now? So I just hold him, show him I’m still here. Still on his side. Whatever side that is.
Nico
It was short notice, but Sal managed to book a decent private chapel—not the cheesy Elvis kind on the strip. I pull into the chapel parking lot and turn off the Porsche I took out for the drive today. We get out and I escort Sondra toward the door. She’s wearing a pair of tight white capri jeans with pink-gold heels and a turquoise blouse. She looks classy and beautiful.
&nb
sp; Sal’s marrying a stripper he hired a year ago. He’s been banging her ever since and decided last week, when she told him she was pregnant, to make it official. He swore me to secrecy over her former profession, which I have no problem with. I actually like the girl. She’s a Jersey chick, street smart but generous. She’ll fit in with the family, make a good mother to his kids.
I can’t tell if I’ve won or lost something with Sondra. It appears to be a win, but she’s quiet on the ride to the chapel. She went soft, which is always her gift to me, but who knows what conclusions she’ll draw from what I told her. What decisions she’ll make.
I’ll honor them, whatever they are. Even if it kills me to let her go.
“Nico!” My aunt calls from the parking lot.
I stop and wait for her and two other cousins to arrive. My uncle, her husband, is in jail for life, which is why I took Sal under my wing when I moved here. She and the girls flew out on my plane this morning. “Aunt Perla, this is Sondra. Sondra, this is Sal’s mother, my Aunt Perla, and his little sisters, Genevieve and Kara.”
Leo pulls up and then Sal arrives in his own car, appearing harried and on edge. “Where’s the bride?” I call out.
His head whips around as he scans the parking lot, panic flaring in his eyes until his gaze lands on a red mustang parked up front. “She’s here. She and her girlfriends came early.”
He hugs his mother and sisters, pumps my hand, cheek-kisses Sondra and slaps Leo on the back.
“Sal, this is not a Catholic church,” his mother complains. “I can’t believe you’re getting married in a non-denominational chapel.”
“I know, Ma. This was the best I could get on short notice.”
Aunt Perla sniffs and I hold the door open. The whole lot troops in and we walk through an indoor area to a back courtyard with a set of fake boulders and a waterfall cascading down the center.
“This is pretty,” Sondra murmurs politely.
I think the shape of the rocks kinda looks like butt cheeks, but I keep my mouth shut.
The officiant directs us to take a seat on the plastic folding chairs, dressed up with fabric skirts and canned organ music starts to play. The bride comes in with her two bridesmaids—also strippers, I suspect—and they meet Sal up at the butt cheek waterfall.
Thank fuck the officiant keeps it short and sweet. I hold Sondra’s hand during the ceremony and Aunt Perla even finds the grace to cry a bit.
“And now I’d like to invite you all to a celebration dinner at Scordetto’s Italian Restaurant,” I announce.
“Is that a restaurant at your casino, Nico?” Aunt Perla asks.
I shake my head. “No, Sal doesn’t want to celebrate his wedding at the place he works. I rented out a nice restaurant for the night. Come on, let’s go.”
“That was sweet of you,” Sondra murmurs as I lead her out.
“Least I could do.” I open her car door and help her in. The truth is, I’m already getting itchy about mixing family with Sondra. Later I would think it was my gut warning me, but all I think now is how uneducated and unrefined they must seem to her. It’s shitty of me to be ashamed of my roots, but I guess I’ve pulled myself up pretty far from where I came from. I forget how far until moments like these.
Sondra
Nico seems distracted and uncomfortable when we get to the restaurant, and I totally sympathize. Who doesn’t get squirmy around family gatherings?
I head to the women’s room and when I come out of the stall, I hear Nico’s aunt and Sal talking in the hallway outside.
“So what’s the story with Nico’s girlfriend?”
I freeze, my hand on the door to push it open.
“Yeah, she’s nice. Makes him happy,” Sal answers.
“Yeah, but what about the fiancée? Isn’t he still engaged to Jenna Pachino?”
Jenna Pachino. I knew it!
I go ice cold and hot at the same time. My stomach drops to my feet on the floor.
Oh my fucking God. I knew his story didn’t add up. The way he didn’t introduce me when she showed up at the casino. She’s his fucking fiancée?
This is my pattern. Cheating assholes. Even when I know they’re lying, I still want to believe. And this time? This time I don’t think I’m ever going to recover.
I back away from the door, shaking like someone who’s gone into shock.
Oh yeah. I have gone into shock. Somehow I manage to pull out my phone. “Corey?” Fuck, I’m already crying.
My cousin must hear everything in my voice. “What’s wrong?”
“I need you to pick me up—from Scordetto’s. Please come soon.”
“I’ll be right there. Are you safe? Hurt?”
“I’m okay, I just need to get out of here right away.”
I hear a door slam. “I’m already on my way,” she promises.
I wait with my ear pressed to the door until I’m sure no one’s outside before I slip out. The group is gathered in the back room, ordering drinks, so I’m able to get out the front door without anyone seeing me. I skulk around the side of the building like a criminal and wait. It feels like hours, but probably isn’t more than ten minutes before Corey’s car comes screeching into the parking lot.
I run for it, just as Nico comes out.
“Sondra!” he shouts as I throw open the car door. “Wait! Where are you going?” He jogs toward the car.
“Get out of here!” I sob to Corey.
She steps on the gas, but Nico throws himself in front of the car, forcing Corey to slam on the brakes.
“Sondra! What happened?” He runs around to my side of the car.
“Where’s your fiancée, Nico? Why didn’t you bring her today?”
If I had any doubt in my mind the fiancée was real, it evaporates when I see Nico go still.
“Drive away,” I tell Corey.
“Wait!” Nico lunges for the car as Corey guns it. “Let me explain.”
I flip him the bird and we peel out of the driveway.
And then I’m a sobbing mess. “I picked another cheater. Can you believe it? I really can’t.”
Corey throws me a worried glance. “I’m so sorry, Sondra. He deserves to die.”
“Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” I say, smearing tears across my cheek with the back of my hand.
My phone dings with a text coming in. I know it’s from Nico, but I’m too stupid not to look.
I’m not marrying Jenna. I barely even know her. It was a contract made by our fathers when we were kids. She came here to ask me to help release it, which I’m doing. I never intended to marry her. I only want to be with you.
I read it aloud to Corey, who presses her lips together. “Well, he should’ve told you about it, then.”
My sobs quiet. I think I actually believe him, which might be total insanity. “Yes, he should have.” It doesn’t matter, though. All I know is that I can’t trust my own judgment with this guy.
I block his number on my phone.
“Where to?” Corey asks.
“Home.”
“My place?”
“No. Michigan. I want to go home. Take me to the airport.”
Chapter 14
Nico
I’m going out of my mind.
I can’t get her fucking cousin to talk—to tell me where she is. At least not with any non-violent methods of persuasion, and obviously I’m not going to strong-arm her. I have a guy watch Corey’s house, but she doesn’t seem to be there. Nor has she appeared on any camera in the casino.
My girl is gone.
Even though this whole time I knew I was wrong for her, I can’t stand knowing I hurt her. I pressed a knife right into her soft spot and let her feel cheated on again.
It’s unforgivable.
And that’s the part I have to make right. I can’t let her walk away from this thing wounded. I never wanted that. I was selfish—I indulged in getting close to her. I let myself get carried away by the pleasure she brought to me. But once I convince her
I was true, I need to let her go.
It’s the only way I can make any of this right.
Sondra
I’m in bed with the covers over my head for the third day in a row. My mom has been in a dozen times to coax me out, but I’m not having it.
“Just let me rest,” I tell her. “I need sleep.”
My phone rings and I ignore it. A text comes through. I ignore that. It rings again.
I look at the screen.
Corey.
I pick up. “Hey.” Even to my own ears, my voice sounds heavier than lead.
“I think Nico’s story is true,” Corey says.
My stomach, nervous and empty on the depression diet of a few bites of fruit and toast, seizes up.
“He’s talked to me. I cornered his cousin Sal, and I even asked that guy Leo and his bodyguard Tony. They all had the same story. Childhood commitment that’s never been acted on. In fact, Tony says he gave her money to disappear while Nico gets things worked out with her dad.” Her voice lowers. “He also says Nico’s a total wreck. Hasn’t slept since you left.”
“Why are you telling me this?” If there’s panic in my voice, it’s because I spent the last three days reconciling myself to never seeing Nico again. Now Corey’s shoving open the door I’ve been trying so hard to keep closed.
“I just thought you should know. He still should have told you about the fiancée situation, but with your past, maybe you jumped to the worst conclusion. He wasn’t two-timing you, Sondra.”
I throw back the covers, suddenly too antsy to be in bed. “It doesn’t matter. It’s not like I was going to marry him, anyway. An ending would’ve been inevitable. So now it’s done.” I pad to the bathroom, the need for a shower overwhelming.
“I don’t know. I think you were thinking about whether you could be with him long term. And that’s sort of a different question. I’m not sure you should mix up the two situations.”