The Secret One

by Cardello, Ruth

  He turned to me. “Yes.”

  I wanted to tell him not to do this, but I didn’t. When I was little, I’d tried to stop my father from racing once. A driver had died in a crash the week before, and I’d been there to witness it. I’d begged. Pleaded. Threatened. I’d been furious with him when he’d asked Ty to have someone take me home.

  What I hadn’t recognized then was the look I now saw in Christof’s eyes—sheer determination. I’d always thought my father was impervious to fear, but I was beginning to think he hadn’t been. He’d been a man, like Christof, who knew what he had to do and refused to let fear stop him. That kind of resolve didn’t bend before the tears of a child . . . or a woman.

  I wouldn’t have wanted it to.

  More than anything, I wanted Christof to win, as much if not more than I’d ever cared if my father won a race. Christof wasn’t walking into that building looking for anything for himself. It would have been justifiable for him to blame both sides for getting themselves into this mess, to step back and say it wasn’t his problem.

  My mother had taken that path. In her twisted mind she still blamed me for the state of our relationship . . . or lack thereof. She’d never forgiven me for choosing my father.

  I couldn’t imagine Christof ever putting a child in that position. His view of family and the responsibility each member of one had to the others was so much less selfish.

  And forgiving. Family didn’t need to be perfect to be welcome at Christof’s table. Regardless of the state of Dominic’s headspace, he would surely be moved by that kind of selflessness.

  Unless Christof is accidentally shot by his security team first. I unbuckled, leaned over, and whispered against his lips, “Be careful.”

  He kissed me gently, then unbuckled his own seat belt. “I will be. Don’t call the numbers I gave you unless a full hour has passed. I can’t imagine this going badly enough to involve anyone else, but if it does, get as far as you can from here before you make those calls.”

  “No matter what happens, I won’t leave you.”

  He gently ran a thumb over my cheek. “You’ll have to. If things go south, I’ll need you to keep my family safe.” He sat back. “None of that is going to happen, though, because Dominic is not his father. The woman who called said she cares about him. He can’t be all bad if he has people close to him who want him to reconcile with his family.”

  “But they’re afraid enough of him to require that you slip in the back door?”

  Christof acknowledged my comment with a tip of his head.

  He moved to get out, and I gripped his arm. “This doesn’t change how I feel about women giving up their last names when they marry. It’s a ridiculous, outdated practice.”

  He gave my hand a squeeze. “I’m going to be fine, McKenna. If you want, I’ll call you right now and leave the line open. You can hear everything.”

  “You’d do that?”

  “I couldn’t sit here waiting for you to return with no way of knowing if you were okay. So yes.” He dialed my number. I answered on my phone. “Mute it on your side. Don’t get me killed.”

  I gave him a deep please-don’t-fucking-die kiss, then sat back and put the phone on mute. He gave me one last long look, then opened his car door and got out.

  As I watched him go, my stomach did a painful flip. My body was shaking. I was nervous, sweaty, and nauseous, and my heart was pounding heavily in my chest. I’d become comfortable with the version of me who didn’t need anyone.

  I couldn’t imagine what I would do if he didn’t return to me.

  I didn’t want to imagine my life without him in it.

  My mouth went dry.

  My eyes blurred with tears I refused to shed.

  Never had I felt so invested in a relationship.

  I wasn’t sure I even wanted one or two kids, but if Christof came back to me, I’d have a whole litter. Just don’t let him die.

  I can’t lose him, not like this.

  I took several deep breaths and told myself it had only been two minutes and not a lifetime since he’d left.

  If this is love—it sucks.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHRISTOF

  I put one foot in front of the other and simply forced myself to walk away from McKenna. I knew it couldn’t be easy for her to sit back and watch this play out, but the alternative was to put her closer to potential danger.

  A tall brunette met me in the alley after the clothing shop. I didn’t know what I’d expected, but she was dressed casually and would have blended in well with local tourists. “You look nervous,” she said.

  I shrugged. “You did tell me I could get shot in there.”

  She looked me over again. “That won’t happen unless you do something stupid. If you follow my instructions, you should be fine.”

  “‘Should be.’ Your optimism is far from overwhelming.”

  She raised a hand with impatience. “We don’t have time to bullshit. I’m risking my job, my friends, everything—not Marc, thank God; he’s a better man than I deserve—but everything else. I can’t fuck this up.”

  Her growing agitation wasn’t a confidence builder. “Are you okay?”

  She pointed a finger at me. “You had better be everything I think you are. If you have an agenda beyond helping Dominic finally meet his grandmother, I will personally gut you and strangle you with your entrails.”

  “Wow,” I said with a grimace. “Can’t say I’ve ever received such a graphic threat. I can assure you I come in peace.” I shook my head at my own choice of words. This definitely ends with me getting myself killed. “I mean, I’m here to smooth things over and help both sides find peace.”

  She didn’t look impressed, and I couldn’t blame her. “You’re the only hope we have of that happening. We’re fucked. Whatever. Follow me.”

  At the end of the alley, we stopped. She started listing all the places where Dominic’s security would be stationed. My jaw dropped open as she went on and on.

  I remembered a story Mauricio had shared about how, during his last visit to Montalcino, his landing had been delayed because Dominic Corisi had closed the airport. When he had landed, Mauricio said the airport had been crawling with security. What kind of person required their own militia?

  “Is he a paranoid man?”

  “No, there’s a lot of people who would like to see him dead.”

  I know some of those people.

  “Anything I should know?” My voice rose to a telling high pitch. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Beyond what’s gone down with the family?”

  “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.” She smiled. “But don’t worry, he left that life behind.”

  “Do you know what would make me worry less? If you stopped describing death scenarios for me every two minutes. Unless you think me shitting myself will give me an advantage when I talk to Dominic, I suggest you chill out a little.”

  “Please don’t shit yourself.”

  “One more death threat, and anything could happen.”

  She looked me over again, then smiled for the first time. “You’re funnier than I thought you would be.”

  I didn’t tell her I wasn’t completely joking.

  “Let’s go,” she said. She took my arm as if we were a couple out for a stroll. We walked slowly toward the back of the building. Once through the back door, she told me to be silent. We made our way through several locked storage rooms to a service elevator. The door slid open. She didn’t step in with me. “He’s on the seventh floor. Second door on your right as soon as you exit the elevator. You’ll step into a bathroom that is attached to his office. This entrance was designed so the cleaning staff wouldn’t disturb anyone in the office.”

  “So I’m popping out of his bathroom?” Sounds like the perfect way to get shot.

  “At least if you need to nervous shit, you’re already where you can.”

  “That’s the only way I can imagine this going worse than I already
picture it.”

  She smiled again. “You’ll do fine. You’ve already impressed me. I didn’t think you’d actually come.” The door of the elevator started to close, but she put her hand out to stop it. “One more thing. Don’t tell him you had help getting into the building.”

  “Right. Ambushing him from his own bathroom was all my idea. Gotcha.” Yeah, there was no way this could go wrong.

  “Good luck.”

  The door closed between us, and I chose the seventh floor.

  Only because I knew McKenna was listening, I said, “Mack, when we tell this story to our children someday, let’s not mention the part where I said I might shit myself.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  DOMINIC

  They call me the devil.

  The man standing by his office window in Montalcino fisted his hands at his sides. He couldn’t deny a younger him might have deserved the title. Funny how circular life could be. Coming to Italy had never worked out for him, but there he was giving it one more go.

  But this time I’m the one holding all the cards.

  A knock on his door announced the arrival of the head of his security team, Marc Stone. “Do you have a moment?” There were few people Dominic trusted; Marc was one of them.

  “What do you need?” When Marc didn’t say anything, Dominic turned to face him. Something was bothering Marc, and that was never good. “It’s not Alethea, is it?”

  “It’s not.”

  “I was clear that her part in this is finished.”

  Marc adjusted the cuffs of his suit, a tell that he was sitting on something Dominic was sure he didn’t want to hear. “She assured me she understood that.”

  Dominic sighed. “Then what is it?”

  After clearing his throat, Marc said, “I’ve worked for you for a long time. I owe you more than I could ever repay.”

  “But?”

  “It’s not really a ‘but’; it’s a question. What are we doing here?”

  Dominic would have told almost anyone else to get out of his office, but Marc was as loyal as they came. “I tried to do this nicely. They wanted to do it the hard way.”

  “Do what? Who is the enemy? I can’t properly protect you unless you give me something to go on. Are you building a new headquarters here?”

  “Building? No. This is more of a demolition project.”

  Marc shook his head. “When I first started working for you, you weren’t someone I could care about. You were a job, but not one I was proud of having taken on. I’ve seen you change over the years. You’ve done so many good things for so many communities. You have a wonderful wife, an amazing daughter. Both of whom love you. Do you know how worried they are about you lately? I’m worried too.”

  Hands clenching at his sides, Dominic turned away again. “None of you have any reason to worry. When this is done, I’ll go home, and everything will return to normal.”

  “No, I don’t think it will. You’re headed down a dark road. I know this Dominic, and I don’t want to work for him again.”

  “Go back to the United States, then.”

  “I’m not going anywhere, but I can’t stand back and not tell you that you’re hurting everyone who cares about you. Is whatever you want here worth that?”

  “Yes,” he said tightly. “Yes, it is.”

  “Okay,” Marc said.

  “Is that all?”

  “Yes. That’s it.” Marc’s phone beeped. “I wouldn’t take this call, but it’s Alethea. I need to make sure it’s not about the baby.”

  “Go take your call.”

  “Think about what I said, Dominic.”

  Dominic didn’t say he would, but not going over and over their conversation proved impossible. From the moment his wife, Abby, had come into his life, it had been like he’d been given a second chance. She hadn’t known who he was, what he’d done, or how many people feared him. Her faith in him had reignited his conscience, and although that hadn’t been a good feeling in the beginning, it had made him a better man.

  He’d made a lot of mistakes.

  Hurt more people than he cared to remember.

  Never Abby or their child. He’d made sure the rage within him stayed far outside his marriage and his home. His daughter, Judy, saw him as a big softy. For her, he was.

  With Abby at his side, Dominic had changed his business practices. He’d poured billions each year into community development, both in the US and abroad. He funded research, especially anything to aid the poor. If good deeds could cleanse a man of his sins, Dominic had at least brought balance to his tally sheet.

  Marc didn’t need to tell him Abby was worried. The problem with acting less like the man he knew she deserved was that he couldn’t look her in the eye while doing it. So he’d withdrawn from her, found a hundred reasons to be with her and Judy less over the last few months.

  If it was possible, he hated himself even more for it.

  He hated everyone who’d played a part in making him into someone he didn’t want to be. If he could win over the fury within him, lock it back into whatever corner he’d kept it in for so long, he would. So far, that hadn’t been possible. The closest he’d come to feeling anything since he’d been turned away from seeing his grandmother was a mild satisfaction each time he bought another lot of land out from beneath the people who excused their behavior by calling him the lord of hell.

  If I am the devil, then my wrath will surely burn Montalcino to the ground.

  A creak from a door opening drew Dominic’s attention away from the window. He turned in time to see a man he instantly recognized from photos as Christof Romano. How pathetic that they sent one of their youngest to stop me.

  Hands in the air, Christof stood in the middle of the room and said, “I’m unarmed, relatively harmless. Sure, I took karate one semester in school, but mostly I got my ass kicked. I’m just here to talk.”

  “What the fuck are you doing here, Romano?”

  “You can call me Christof.” When Dominic didn’t, Christof continued, “Or Romano. Whatever you feel most comfortable with.”

  “Don’t make me ask you twice.”

  Christof walked farther into the room, oddly bold for someone who had come alone. “Like I said, I’m here to talk.”

  Dominic frowned. “How the hell did you get past my security?”

  Christof shook his head as if he was embarrassed. “That’s not important.” He walked over to the chairs in front of Dominic’s desk and said, “Mind if I take a seat?” He sat without waiting for permission.

  Dominic strode across the room and stood there, towering over him. “I’ll save us both time. There’s nothing you could say that will stop me. In fact, the first person who denies me access to my grandmother will hold the honor of being the reason I wipe Montalcino off the map.”

  “Wow,” Christof said in a tone only someone of his generation would use. They really were cocky bastards. “That’s a hefty threat.”

  “More like a promise.”

  “I admire your commitment to this near-villain role, but—”

  “Fuck with me, and I won’t stop there. Think your family’s business is safe? Get in my way, and I’ll crush you.”

  Christof sat back, placed his hands on his thighs, and expelled an audible breath. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but short of killing me—which I’m confident you won’t because you’re not your father—you can’t hurt me. Or my family. Strip away our company, our money, my car—and I really like Mack—but strip all that away, and we still have everything that matters. I’d still have my fiancée, my family, my friends, and on most days my dignity. My father always says he was just as happy with one store, all of us, and some wine.”

  Dominic folded his arms across his chest. “That’s not what you’ll be saying when you’re living on the streets.”

  Christof’s eyebrows rose, but his expression remained calm. “You do realize we’re cousins.”

  “You’re not family to me. There’s no one h
ere I care about.”

  Christof rose to his feet and went toe to toe with Dominic. “Then why are you here? From what I’ve heard, you have a wife, a child, and more money than God. Why are you so angry, and what is it you think anyone in Montalcino owes you?”

  “Answers,” Dominic growled in a tortured tone that he hated had come from him. It was the truth, though. All he wanted was for someone to look him in the eye and tell him why they’d let him suffer, thinking his mother was dead, and why he still wasn’t worth their time.

  Christof’s expression changed. For a moment he looked—sympathetic? “And you deserve answers. I don’t know everything, but I believe I have the ones you’re looking for.”

  “Do you?” Dominic asked in a disgusted tone.

  “I do, and I’ll tell you everything I know. On one condition.”

  Oh, this should be good. How much does he think I’m willing to pay for what probably isn’t even the truth? Okay, I’ll play. “What’s the condition?”

  “That after you listen to the whole story, which I’m hoping will change your mind about the fate of Montalcino, you consider coming to meet your grandmother tomorrow.”

  Dominic’s hands fisted. “Is this some kind of a fucking joke? She doesn’t want to see me.”

  Christof took a seat again as if he’d been invited to stay. “You want answers? All I’m asking is that you listen with an open mind.”

  “You’re a cocky little shit, aren’t you? What are you hoping to get out of this?”

  “Honestly? I have three brothers. Two older. One younger.”

  “And this matters to me why?”

  “Because my youngest brother is actually your brother. His biological mother’s name is Rosella. He’s never been to Montalcino because our mother is afraid what people will say to him. He just learned about you, but he’s always known he was adopted. He was left by your mother too. He’s flying in tonight. If we do this right, he could forever say he has four brothers.”

  Dominic sat in the chair beside Christof. “And a sister—Nicole.”

  “And a sister.” Christof looked Dominic right in the eye and said, “I have a pretty good idea why you’re here. I don’t blame you. You feel like the family turned their back on you when you needed them the most. What you don’t know is that when you came looking for your mother, your father came as well. He threatened to kill her if he found her. They had to lie to you. It was the only way to keep her safe.”