When she loves, p.18
When She Loves, page 18
“My daughter and I were just catching up,” my father says, a tense smile on his face.
“We’re all caught up,” I mutter.
That earns me a sharp glare, but at least Papà keeps his mouth shut. He hurries past Cosimo and disappears around the corner.
Cosimo studies me as I walk toward him. “He’s a real piece of work,” he says when we’re shoulder to shoulder. His gaze drops to my arm. “Something tells me your husband won’t be thrilled about that.”
I pull down my sleeve. “I’m fine. Please don’t say anything to Rafaele.” He’d lose it.
Cosimo stares at me for a long moment and then nods. “Not my business.”
I brush past him, knowing there’s no way to undo the decision I made.
Tonight, I will have to come clean to my husband.
CHAPTER 27
RAFAELE
Gino and I walk out onto his terrace, and he leads me toward a rectangular pool full of koi. The fish are apparitions in the dark water, coming to the surface for only a few seconds before they disappear again.
“They don’t get cold in the winter?”
Gino follows the movement of one with his gaze. “They’re resilient. The pool is deep enough for them to swim near the bottom even when the top freezes over.”
“They can live under the ice?” That sounds like a claustrophobic nightmare.
“They can.” A smile pulls on his lips. “Impressive, isn’t it? One of my earliest childhood memories is sitting by a koi pond with my mother and watching them swim. She’d take me to the Japanese garden in Brooklyn and tell me the tale of the koi that climbed up the waterfall. A Japanese legend. The fish that managed to overcome the challenge of swimming upstream in a waterfall became a fearsome dragon. She’d say to me that no matter how impossible it felt to navigate a given situation, pushing through would make me stronger.”
A bitter taste floods my mouth. I can’t remember ever having moments like that with my mother.
Father didn’t like her spending a lot of time with me, so he kept us apart for most of my childhood. She was always with the girls, and I was cared for by a rotating menagerie of nannies, none of whom ever stuck around for long. When I turned eleven, he sent Mamma with the girls to the house in the Hamptons. By then, I was glad she left. It meant she’d be safe from him.
“She sounds like she was a good mother.”
“She was. She left us too soon.” Gino clasps his hands behind his back and wanders over to the edge of the terrace.
Only a thick sheet of glass and a black railing prevent a gust of wind from throwing us off the side of the building. Central Park sprawls below us, a dark gash in the sea of concrete and skyscrapers.
Gino drags his hand over his beard. “I’m curious… How did your father explain our tense relationship to you?”
“He said it was because he killed one of your uncles.” He always claimed it was an accident, but knowing my father, that was probably a lie.
Gino exhales a low laugh. “Of course he’d give you that reason. He probably believed it himself.” He places his hands on the railing. “My father had eleven brothers. He got along with about half of them. One of them, he choked with his bare hands over an argument that had something to do with a car his brother borrowed without asking for permission. Another was so brutally humiliated by my father on multiple occasions that he hung himself. We are a complicated family. The uncle your father shot was frankly irrelevant.”
I glance at him. “Then what really happened?”
“As I’m sure you’ve realized being inside my home, I have an affinity for water. But your father… He loved fire. Did you know that even before he killed my Uncle Aldo, he burned one of my warehouses down to the ground on a cold night in December?”
Fire.
A memory scurries through me.
My father used to burn the faces of the men he interrogated. He’d grab them by the scruff of their neck, drag them to the fireplace, and shove their face into the flames. When I was a kid, he’d sometimes make me watch. I had repressed that memory for years.
Gino continues, “I’ll never forget it. It was Christmas Eve ninety-one. You weren’t even born then, were you? I was with my family, and Vita had prepared a feast. I can still remember that giant roast turkey. It looked like it was taken straight out of a commercial on the Food Network.” He chuckles. “I couldn’t wait to try it. I think I ate one bite before I got the call. They shouted that a warehouse was on fire. I had to leave the dinner to go check it out. Vita looked like she was going to kill me, but we had about twenty million dollars’ worth of product in that warehouse, and back then, that was a lot for my family. By the time I got there, there was nothing left to salvage. The fire burned everything to the ground.”
Yeah, that sounds like my father. He liked to destroy things.
“I walked through the smoking rubble and found a charred corpse. A guard. We only had one that night because we thought no one would dare try something on Christmas?” Gino sounds incredulous. “None of us are upstanding citizens, but for men like us, family means something.”
I purse my lips. My father was first and foremost a don. For him, family wasn’t even in the top ten of his priorities. He cared about me in his own twisted way, but when it came to my mother and my sisters… He treated them like possessions devoid of thoughts and feelings. He wasn’t the kind of man who’d ever have any empathy for another man’s family. For all his rigid rules and traditions, he spit on all our family’s core values.
He respected only one thing—strength. Which is why he loathed dying a weak man.
I turn to Gino. “Let’s not keep our families in this decades-long standoff over something that happened before I was even born. Let me repay you for the damage my father caused.”
He lifts his shoulder. “I appreciate the gesture. I do. And maybe we can start there. But I can’t promise that it will be enough, because it wasn’t just my business that was harmed that night.”
Foreboding slithers down my spine.
“You’re married now. One day, you might disappoint your wife the way I disappointed mine that Christmas, and if you love her, maybe you’ll find it just as difficult to forgive the man who caused that disappointment.” His gaze leaves me, moving back to the Manhattan skyline. “That year was hard on Vita. I was away a lot, always working, always trying to grow the business. We were newlyweds, and she was adjusting to a world that was completely new to her. I tore her away from the life she had, a life where she was successful and independent and happy, all because I promised I’d make her happier, but that year, I failed on my promise.”
I take a sip of my whiskey. Gino might be the only don in this city married to an outsider. I can see why he thought Vita was worth the trouble. Even now that she’s older, she is a strikingly beautiful woman. His affection for her is blatant. He doesn’t try to hide that he worships her.
How strange. Isn’t he afraid someone will use her against him one day?
“Cosimo was one. Vita was already pregnant with Alessio. She spent all evening with our baby, both of them waiting for me to return so that we could enjoy that moment with our little family. But I didn’t come back until the morning, and I brought bad news.” He sighs. “That lone guard was Vita’s cousin, Andy. Andy was ostracized by the rest of her family for being an addict. But Vita never gave up on him. She helped him get clean, and she even got him a job with me. She invited him to spend Christmas with us, but he wanted to work, wanted to be busy on the night when those with messed up families feel most alone. Imagine how it felt for me to tell her that he’d died.”
Fuck. My jaw clenches.
I wonder if my father knew the man’s identity. Probably. He was exceptionally good at finding other people’s weak spots.
“Vita struggled for a while. My boy seemed to act differently toward me too, even though he was far too young to understand what had happened. Seeing how I hurt them broke my heart.” He draws a loud breath through his nose and exhales with a shake of his head. “Not much gets to me like that.”
Emotions flicker across his face in quick succession. Disappointment, pain, grief…
I shift on my feet, uneasy. He’s opening up to me, leaving his feelings bare for me to see. His love for his family. His love for his wife. His need to protect them. Doesn’t he know doing this is a sign of weakness? You don’t reveal your soft spots to a rival. Even better, you don’t develop soft spots at all.
When he meets my eyes, there’s a clear warning in his, the kind that can’t be misunderstood. He’s telling me that if I ever hope to establish peace between us, I have to stay the fuck away from him and the people he loves.
I smooth my hand over my tie. I’m not a fan of apologizing for my father’s many sins, but the situation warrants it.
“I’m sorry. I know my father never apologized to you, and hearing it from me won’t carry the same weight, but I want you to know that I am sorry for the harm he caused you.”
It appears it’s the right thing to do. Gino’s gaze flashes with a hint of respect. “I can see you’re sincere, and I appreciate it.”
He brings his glass of whiskey to his lips and finishes it off. “Let’s keep this conversation going. We should touch base week to week. The threat of the Bratva isn’t one we should ignore, and it will serve everyone if the two big players in the city are a united front.”
Good. This is progress. “I agree.”
He pats me on the shoulder. “We should go back.”
I look toward the room, searching for Cleo on the other side of the glass. But I don’t see her anywhere.
CHAPTER 28
RAFAELE
I reenter through the sliding doors and glance around the room. Vita and two of her sons are by the bar cart having a heated discussion about something.
Where’s Garzolo? More importantly, where is my wife?
The staccato of her heels reaches my ears before she pops out of a random hallway. Cosimo is a few steps behind her. My eyes narrow. What were they doing there together? And why does she look so flustered?
I cross the room. Her steps slow when she sees me approach.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.” She says it too quickly, and her cheeks are flushed.
An ugly suspicion blooms inside me. “Where were you?”
“In the bathroom.”
“Why was Cosimo following behind you?”
She crosses her arms and huffs an annoyed breath. “Because I was sucking his cock.”
My vision darkens at the edges. What the—
“God, I’m joking,” she snaps. “Relax.”
“Bad joke,” I growl.
She shakes her head and looks around the room like she’s searching for someone. “How much longer until we can get out of here?”
What is going on with her? “We can leave now.”
We say our goodbyes and leave the condominium. Cleo won’t meet my eye on the elevator ride to the parking lot.
My jaw clenches. “Cleo.”
“What?” she asks the floor.
For fuck’s sake. I corner her against one of the mirrored walls and lift her chin. “What’s going on with you?”
She drops her gaze to stare at my chest, clamping on her bottom lip with her teeth.
I nudge her chin higher, forcing her to look at me. “Answer me.”
“Drop it,” she breathes.
“No.”
The elevator door opens. She pushes past me, hurrying into the lot, but I’m right behind her.
I grab her forearm. “Cleo—”
She winces like I’m hurting her. I know I’m not. My grip is firm, but not enough to be painful. I pull her sleeve up and see a handprint on her forearm. A hot wave of anger rolls through me.
He. Hurt. My. Wife?
He’s a fucking dead man. I disengage the knife strapped to my wrist, letting the handle slide into my waiting palm, and start walking back to the elevator. I’m going to slice off the hand Cosimo used to do this. And then I’m going to feed it to that fucking koi.
“Rafe! What are you doing?” Cleo shouts after me.
“Gonna cut him.”
There’s a gasp and I hear her heels clacking against the concrete floor as she tries to catch up to me. “He’s already gone! You can’t just walk back into Ferraro’s home with a knife! What’s wrong with you?”
I halt. “Who’s gone?”
“My father.” She comes around me, blocking my path.
My thoughts rush to catch up. “Your father did this to you?”
“Who do you think?” Her eyes widen with realization. “You thought it was Cosimo? No. He got Papà away from me.”
This doesn’t make any sense. “Why would your father do this to you? You told me he never laid a hand on you.”
“He didn’t!” She shoves her fingers into her hair and huffs out an anguished breath. Her gaze flickers with whatever she’s refusing to tell me. “Rafe, please. Just calm down.”
Calm down? Only then do I clue into the fact that I’m panting like an enraged bear. My pulse is pounding so hard I can hear it inside my ears. My palm is hot around the handle of the knife. Every muscle in my body is tense, ready to strike.
It’s happening again. This is how I felt when I saw Ludovico trying to force himself on her in my club. How I felt when I saw her bleeding on the ground in Il Caminetto.
Out of control.
I give my head a shake, Nero’s warning coming back to me loud and clear.
I’ve seen how she gets under your skin.
Fuck it. I don’t give a fuck about any of that right now. All I know is that I’d do anything to protect her. Anything. And if that means killing her father so he can never touch her again, so be it.
She grabs my wrist and tries to pull me in the direction of our car. “Please. Let’s just get into the car and go home.”
“Cleo, tell me what is going on. Why would your father do this?”
She sniffs.
I force myself to take a deep breath. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”
She grimaces. I study her face. Her eyes are wide and, God fucking help me, guilty. I know that look so well I’d recognize it on anyone. But if her father hurt her, why does she feel guilty? And why isn’t she answering me?
Cleo hates her father. She wouldn’t stay silent to protect him. But she’d stay silent to protect herself.
Whatever she sees in my expression makes her let go of my arm. She takes one step back, then another.
Alarm bells are ringing in my head. “What did you do?”
Her cheeks are flushed. “Okay. Listen. I can explain.”
I start to advance on her, my suspicions confirmed. “Do you know how many times people have said that to me? I’ll let you guess how those conversations usually end.”
She backs away from me. “Two weeks ago, Papà made me an offer.”
I match her step for step. “What kind of an offer?”
“He…” She swallows. “He asked me to spy on you.”
My body freezes. A deep pit opens in my stomach, filled with razor blades and ice.
“To what end?” I grind out.
Her eyes fill with tears. “He wanted me to find a weakness so that he could get rid of you.”
I can’t help but laugh. This is too good. Garzolo, that fucking backstabbing snake. I should have known a man like him can never be trusted. But this was really his best plan? Get his daughter involved?
My eyes narrow on Cleo. She makes me feel like I’m going crazy. Did I really just think I’d do anything for this woman? That’s not how this works. I know that’s not how this works.
I’m a don, and my first duty is to my position, not to her. But she is my wife, and she is supposed to be fucking loyal to me.
A tear slips down her cheek. “I didn’t do it!”
My stomach swoops with relief, but it’s short-lived as I rewind our conversation. “Two weeks ago? You’ve been sitting on this information for two weeks?”
She presses her lips together, trying to hold back her emotions. Emotions I don’t fucking understand, because the way it seems to me, I should be the one upset here.
I advance on her. “Did you find anything? Did you spot any weaknesses?”
Her pulse pounds against the side of her neck. She takes another step back. “You don’t have any.”
“You and your father aren’t on good terms. He must have offered you something in exchange.”
“He did. He offered me freedom. I wouldn’t have to marry anyone else. He said that after he managed to kill you, he would disown me, and that I could go to Italy to be with Vale and Gem.”
Go to Italy? In what fucking universe would I allow that to happen? Oh right, the one where I’m dead.
The thought of her living a life without me somehow triggers me far more than anything else she’s just said. My anger pulsates beneath my flesh, my vision narrows, my breaths come out short and quick. There isn’t enough oxygen in my lungs.
This is a possibility she considered for two fucking weeks?
Cleo tries to take another step back, but there’s nowhere to go. Her calf hits the edge of our car, and she yelps as she loses her balance.
I eat up the space between us with two long strides and force her back against the car door. Above us, a fluorescent light flickers. It’s the only movement in the empty garage.
Did I bring this on myself by being so lenient with her? Has she forgotten who she married?
She glances at the hand I’ve got pinning her shoulder, exposing her neck to me. I lift my knife and press the cool blade against her delicate throat. She stiffens. Sucks in a breath.
Sandro’s head pops out on the driver’s side. “Boss?”
“Get the fuck back inside.”
A beat passes before he does as he’s told.
I move my hand from her shoulder to her chin and turn her face toward me.
My wife stares at me with her piercing green eyes, the color of emeralds. Who knew they could hide so much deceit inside their depths?
