Forever Lies (The Five Families Book 1)

by Jill Ramsower

  Telling Giada was one thing, my sister Sofia was entirely different. She had been so insistent on paving her own path; I hated to disrupt her progress by throwing our family secrets at her feet. Hypocritical, I know, but she was my little sister, and I felt protective. This type of information changed things.

  Once you knew, there was no going back.

  Giada and I decided to meet for lunch at a small pizza place near her apartment. I normally tried to eat healthy, but the stress of my current situation called for carbs. Lots of carbs. When Giada arrived, we ordered our oversized slices of pizza, then found a table on the patio outside for privacy.

  “What’s the latest news?” she asked, completely oblivious to the bomb I was about to drop in her lap.

  “This talk is going to call for another warning.”

  “I got it—you, me, no one else. Spill,” she said as she waved her hand at me passively.

  “Jeeze, alright. So, I decided it would be best to break up with Luca. We fought—it was ugly. Then he told me something that changed everything, and the only reason I’m telling you is because it involves you too.”

  “Me?” she balked.

  I glanced around, ensuring there were no prying ears nearby. “Yes. Luca isn’t the only one who’s in the mafia—practically our entire family is … connected. Giada, my dad is the boss—a bonafide godfather.”

  She lowered her pizza to her paper plate, her brows drawn tightly together. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I know it sounds crazy. I didn’t believe it at first either, but I confronted my dad, and he admitted it. Mom knows, Maria’s one of them, and Uncle Edoardo—your dad—he’s mafia too.” I let the information sink in, taking a bite of pizza as Giada stared at hers.

  Her eyes slowly rose to meet mine, none of the horror I thought I might see present. “Well, I’ll be damned,” she whispered. “We’re like the real-life Sopranos.” Her voice was awed as if she had just learned Jason Mamoa was her long-lost brother.

  “You’re taking this awfully well.”

  “Are you kidding me?” she blurted. “This is fucking amazing! Do you know how many times I’ve watched the Godfather? Scarface? Carlito’s Way? Pretty much any mob show ever made. You know I love that shit.”

  “G, our lives could be in danger because of this—it’s not some movie.”

  “I figure it’s been this way since we were born. If it were dangerous, we would have seen some of that by now.”

  “Like my brother getting killed?” Every ounce of levity vanished from my voice.

  Giada’s eyes rounded in surprise. “Holy shit.”

  “Yeah. Our lives are a lot more dangerous than we ever realized. This isn’t TV, and it’s not a game.”

  “I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to make light of it.”

  “You don’t have to be sorry. I get why it sounds exciting, but there’s a much darker side to mob life. I don’t want that to touch either of us.”

  “What about a sexy mafia man?” she teased with a questioning smile. “Can one of those touch us? Cause that guy of yours is sexy as fuck.”

  I shook my head, rolling my eyes as I took another bite of pizza. “You’re crazy, you know that?”

  “Don’t judge.”

  “Whatever. Just keep your mouth shut about it. You promise?” I gave her a piercing stare, hoping she’d understand the severity of the situation.

  “Trust me, if I have learned anything from all the shows, it’s that talking gets you dead. I’m not saying a word.” She dug into her pizza as if I hadn’t just rocked her world. Giada always did roll with the punches, but her nonchalant attitude toward our mafia connections had surprised me.

  As we finished eating and our conversation wound down to evening plans and pedicure appointments, I noticed that feeling of being watched had come back. I lifted my eyes, and they were drawn straight to Luca. He stood across the street, two storefronts down, leaning against the building and watching us—watching me.

  “G, I have to go. I’ll text you later, okay?” I murmured distractedly as I stood from the table.

  “Sounds good.” Head down, she scrolled through her phone, hardly noticing my departure.

  I charged straight for Luca, fists clenched at my sides. “Are you stalking me?” I hissed at him once I was close enough not to be overheard.

  “I’m making sure you’re safe. Things are dangerous right now—I don’t want you going out without an escort.”

  Oh. My anger ebbed as I glanced around, wondering just how much danger I might be in. “I’ll call Leo for a ride home, but I don’t want you following me around like a creeper.” I got out my phone and immediately texted Leo, not wanting Luca to have any reason to stick around. “There, all set. You can be on your way now.” I turned my back and stalked over to the curb, intent on ignoring his presence.

  I should have known my actions were irrelevant. I could no more ignore Luca than I could will myself to stop breathing. I didn’t even have to look behind me to sense him approaching—the electrical charge between us alerted me to his presence, heating the skin along my back where he now stood just inches away.

  “You think that attitude pushes me away,” he rumbled from behind me, so close to my ear that the little hairs on my neck stood on edge. “But all it does is make me want to see those sassy lips wrapped tight around my cock.” His mouth came closer before he clamped down gently on my earlobe with his teeth, then sucked on the flesh as he pulled away.

  My breathing shuddered, and my head swam with a rush of dizziness. My nipples were hard enough, every man, woman, and child on the street would be able to see them, but I was too disoriented to care. Thankfully, Leo must have been nearby. His black SUV pulled in front of me, drawing me from my lust-filled haze. Jumping into action, I opened the backseat door and leapt inside. When I glanced at Leo, he was scowling over his shoulder to where Luca stood with a smirk.

  “Just go,” I muttered.

  Leo begrudgingly followed my instructions, dropping me at my apartment building and walking me to the elevator.

  “I got it from here, thanks.”

  “Your father wants to make sure you have someone with you whenever you’re out—just a temporary thing. You let me know whenever you need to leave your apartment, okay?”

  “Yeah, I got the memo.” I gave him a tight smile, wondering just how long this increased supervision would last.

  When I got off on the fourteenth floor, I found my Uncle Sal waiting for me outside my apartment. It was strange to look at him and know he wasn’t just my father’s best friend, he was in the mafia. I wasn’t sure if my father had told him I knew, so I decided not to broach the subject.

  “Hey, Uncle Sal! This is a surprise—I hope you weren’t waiting long.” I gave him a hug and began to fish my keys out of my purse.

  “Not at all. It’s my fault for not calling before I came up. I was nearby and needed to get a gift for my upcoming anniversary, so I thought I’d drop by and you could help me with some ideas. Us men are no good at these things,” he said with a chuckle.

  “Sure, I’m happy to help. Come on in.” I held the door open for him, then set down my purse. “Can I get you a water or soda?”

  “Nah, just come have a seat.” He walked toward the sofa and gestured for me to sit.

  The entire situation was irregular. I couldn’t shake the feeling something was off—he was my uncle, and older people were strange sometimes, but his surprise visit notably coincided with my discovery about my family’s mob involvement. Did he know that I knew? Was he trying to uncover how much I knew? I suspected he had an ulterior motive, but I had no idea what it might be.

  “You know,” he started in, hands in his pockets as he gazed out the window. “You’ve always been my favorite—so ambitious and eager to please. When you were little, you used to tickle my beard, your little fingers on my chin.”

  “And you would call me a scamp an
d chase me away, making me laugh until I couldn’t breathe.”

  “You remember,” he said with surprise.

  “Yeah, we’ve had a lot of good memories together. Remember the time you took me and Sofia to see the Rockettes? Looking back, I think maybe that was a little for your own benefit,” I teased, remembering the gorgeous dancers and their long, beautiful legs.

  He smiled at me, but there was a deep sadness behind those grey eyes. “That’s why this pains me so much. It wasn’t supposed to be this way, but plans change, and sometimes, we have to make sacrifices.”

  Before I could ask what he was talking about, Sal pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and pressed the wet cloth against my face. Unable to help a gasp of surprise, my lungs filled with a sickly-sweet smell. Almost instantly, my vision blurred, and my flailing arms failed to respond to my muddled commands. Not even terror-induced panic could overcome the numbing effects of whatever chemical soaked the cloth. All I could do was plead in the silent recesses of my mind as I slipped deep into unconsciousness.

  The first thing I noticed as I woke was the rank odor of stale cigarettes and the biting cold of metal against my back. When I tried to rub at my aching head, I discovered my hands were bound with leather cuffs to the hard surface below me. The restraints triggered a cascade of memories, ramping up my heartrate and flooding my system with adrenaline.

  I tried to open my eyes, but the glaring light sent a stabbing pain deep into my skull. All I could do was squint, my lids blinking rapidly as I tried to survey my surroundings. I still wore my clothes, which was a relief, but that was the only shred of good news.

  I was strapped to a metal examining table as best I could tell, and two brilliant pendant lights hung down over me like the lights in an operating room. The implications weren’t lost on me. Choppy, shallow breaths puffed from my chest as I continued to look around the small concrete cell.

  An evil laugh, low and malicious sounded from behind my head.

  “Stop, Rico, you’re scaring her.”

  It’s amazing how the brain can cling to hope. The instant I heard Uncle Sal’s voice, hope surged inside me. It didn’t matter that he had been the one to abduct me. He was family, and therefore, my mind insisted he might help save me.

  “But it’s so fun to watch her squirm and panic,” said the man with the evil laugh. His words bore the heavy drawl of a thick Italian accent.

  “Uncle Sal?” I whimpered. “Please, help me.” My voice was scratchy and horse, sending me into a coughing fit.

  “I’m sorry, little Lessi, but I can’t do that. Rico here wants revenge for some very bad things your father has done. Those are our rules—blood for blood.” He was silent for a moment, then slowly approached the table until I could finally see him above me. “You’re not surprised by any of this, are you? I see you must have known more than I gave you credit for.” His head tilted to the side, more intrigued than bothered.

  “Why would you do this?”

  Sal’s lips thinned as he thought. “Rico, leave us,” he ordered the other man.

  I had yet to see the other man, but I could hear the clicking of a door open and close. It sounded like a heavy metal door, and I wondered where on Earth they’d taken me and how they’d removed me unseen from my apartment.

  My uncle lifted his hand and swept at a tear that had leaked out of the corner of my eye. “If you have to die for this, it seems only fair you know why. Your father has grown weak in recent years, soft and complacent. It’s no longer in the best interest of the family to be led by him. Unfortunately, in our world, there are no letters of resignation or peaceful takeovers. There is only one way a don can be removed from power. I tried to set up your father, have the Commission take him out on my behalf, but it hasn’t played out according to my plans. Now, it looks as though war may be the only way I can take over his position. Your death would ignite already explosive tensions between the families. It works out for everyone—Rico here gets his revenge, and I get my war.”

  “Everyone except me. Please, don’t do this, Uncle Sal. Please, I’m begging you.” I hated how my jaw quivered as I plead with him but not enough to overrule my desperation.

  He peered down at me with a look akin to remorse, but I knew better. This monster I had called family was incapable of something so human as remorse or empathy. Before I could curse him and spew insults, he walked to a table on the side of the room I hadn’t noticed before. He picked up a roll of duct tape and tore off a section with his teeth.

  “What are you doing?” I blurted.

  “I’m afraid I can’t have you telling all my secrets.” With both hands, he stretched the tape over my mouth and pressed down to seal my mouth shut.

  I wailed and raged against the tape and my constraints, but it did no good.

  “I’m sorry again, sweet Alessia. I hope you understand, it’s nothing personal.” If there’d been any question the man was evil, it was dashed away when he winked before leaving the room.

  My chest puffed up and down with unfettered rage until Rico came back into view, and my breathless pants turned into sobs of terror. The middle-aged man was so thin, his sallow cheeks indented below the bone. His mousy brown hair flopped to the side, just long enough for the greasy strands to cover his eyes. Those pale blue eyes were the worst part of all—soulless and empty. I could feel their filthy touch as they roved over my body, hungry for blood.

  “It’s important when someone wrongs you to not only get your pound of flesh but to ensure a lesson is taught. Those filthy Luccianos must learn to never, ever fuck with the Gallos. Luca did an excellent job leading me straight to you. I watched you for days, but I wasn’t allowed to touch, not until Sal here made his offer. Now, we make things right.”

  His eyes glowed with depravity, and when he lifted a knife where I could see it, warmth spread beneath me where I lost control of my bladder. He sniffed the air, then laughed at my fear, but embarrassment was the farthest thing from my mind. Humility was nonexistent when one was lost in abject terror.

  My nostrils flared angrily as I tried to pull in the oxygen my lungs desperately needed to keep pace with my racing heart. My eyes stayed fixed on the small switchblade he gripped in his hand. Taking the hem of my shirt, he sliced through the fabric from my navel to my throat, cutting the blouse in half.

  “Your skin is beautiful, such a perfect canvas,” he mused to himself as he trailed the knife down my chest and belly without so much as a single scratch. When he got to my slacks, he popped the button off and lowered the zipper.

  I began to thrust my hips and squirm, fear taking control of my body.

  “You know, this knife is very sharp. I wouldn’t want to do that if I were you. One slip of my hand, and this could all be over very quickly.” His words were spoken with an eerie calm that chilled me to my core.

  Every muscle in my body clenched, locked down motionless—too scared to move, too terrified to relax. A twisted, vile grin spread across his face as he returned to his work.

  I wished to God this was the moment where help came for me—that Luca or my father came bursting through the door and put a bullet between Rico’s eyes. I would have even celebrated if Uncle Sal had experienced a change of heart and had come back to save me, but that wasn’t the case.

  This was the moment in the movie when the camera pans back, and everything fades to black. No one wants to see the details of what happens—the innuendo is enough. For me, there was no escape. I was forced to experience first-hand each sadistic detail, memories that would haunt me forever.

  23

  Luca

  After Alessia took off with her driver, I jumped in my car and started to make the trek into Jersey to check on Arianna. I’d been so consumed with all things Alessia, I hadn’t provided adequate supervision of my little sister. A few weeks’ time on her own and there was no telling what kind of trouble she could get into.

  Before I crossed over the GW bridge, I texted Ales
sia. Did you make it home?

  Setting my phone back on its charger, I waited for a response. The tires passing over each section of bridge made a clicking sound that counted off the seconds as my text went unanswered. She swore she would answer me, and I was fairly certain she hadn’t been lying to appease me. With growing agitation, I grabbed the phone and dialed her number. Ring after ring came across the line before her voicemail picked up.

  It was entirely possible she had jumped in the shower or had some other valid reason for not answering, but I couldn’t shake the feeling in my gut that something wasn’t right. As soon as I made it to the other side of the bridge, I flipped a U-turn and started back toward her Manhattan apartment.

  By the time I reached the building over a half-hour later, she still hadn’t returned my text or answered my calls. My head filled with gruesome images as I went from concern to worry to all-out fear. I wasn’t normally the type to succumb to the emotion, but in this instance, I was drenched in the sticky substance.

  I double-parked and tore off toward the entrance. The concierge attempted to stop me, but I blew past him and caught an elevator already waiting on the ground floor. Each agonizing rise between floors felt like a lifetime. When the elevator finally opened, I ran to her apartment and pounded on the door.

  “Alessia, it’s me. Open up!” Hand flat against the door, I stood motionless and waited, listening for sound on the other side.