Empire (Eagle Elite Book 7) (5 page)

He gave me a knowing look. “After being walked in on by the uncles, you asked for a changing screen, I would have seen shadows.”

I eyed the flimsy screen across the room. I’d found it at a garage sale and begged Gio to buy it for me. He’d blushed a billion shades of red, mumbled out a sorry, since he’d been the last to walk in on me before dinner, and quickly handed the woman a hundred dollar bill.

She responded by trying to give him more stuff, which he took, because we were Italians, and gifts were like food; you accepted, you always accepted, even if you were full, you accepted.

Dante snapped his fingers in front of my face. “What? Huh? Did you say something?”

“No, but you did just spend the last thirty seconds gazing into thin air with your mouth wide open. Not a great look, Val.”

“Shut up.” I stood and shoved my hands against his bulky chest. “I really do need to change. Did you need something?”

“The pig.” Dante’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “It is not big enough! We will run out of food!” He mimicked Gio’s voice perfectly. “I’ve been sent to get another.”

“Nooo!” I wailed. “He said only forty people.”

Dante snickered. “He lies, he always claims the family dinner will be small. Remember last week when he said he was inviting a few colleagues over?”

I shuddered. We’d had more than twenty men in suits dine with us. I hadn’t liked it. Papi had said they were old friends.

But none of them had looked friendly to me.

They seemed too… polished.

A few of them were young.

Too young.

Young enough to be my age, which was silly because, well, who was that successful at nineteen?

Their accents were funny as well.

Not quite Italian, not quite American… yet.

Not New York.

A mix of Chicago and Sicilian, I assumed.

“You’re doing it again,” Dante said in a bored voice. “I just wanted to warn you that this party’s about to get a little bigger. Oh…” He grinned and let out a low laugh. “Also, Nico just arrived, and he asked about his fiancé.”

I growled.

“Just think of all the tiny cologne babies you can have, I bet we can even find a few miniature suits. They’ll look just like their papa.”

“Out!” I shoved against his chest with a laugh. “And thanks for the warning.”

“Any time,” he called behind him as laughter erupted from downstairs. The party wasn’t even supposed to start for another half hour, but that’s how Italians were. They didn’t just come to the party on time, they came early to help. Meaning, they came early to drink wine, they came early to buy more wine, and they came early because they almost always brought enough food to feed a small country. Just a little something they cooked up just in case.

Just in case anyone starved.

It really was a miracle nobody had to push me around in a cart because of my inability to walk — I did enjoy my cannoli.

With one last look at the door, I rushed over to the pillow and tugged the papers out, slid them back into the envelop, then shoved them under my mattress, taking special care to cover the side of the bed with a blanket.

Nobody would look there.

Because I was little Val.

I didn’t take chances.

I didn’t hide things.

And I certainly didn’t live on the wild side.

“Valentina!” Sal called from downstairs. His yell was followed by loud laughter.

Sighing, I reached for my simple black dress and closed my eyes. I should have been thinking about rejecting Nico.

Instead.

My thoughts lingered on the pieces of paper.

And the mysterious prince.

Who had no flaws.

Yeah. Right.

Lord, what fools these mortals be! —A Midsummer Night’s Dream

Sergio

I WAS SUPPOSED
to look like Frank’s grandson.

Anyone would see through the lie in seconds. How stupid were his cousins? That’s what I wanted to know.

Ever since Andi’s death, I’d been working out harder, and had somehow managed to put on a few more pounds of muscle. Maybe it was because every night when I laid my head on the pillow… I still smelled her.

And it wasn’t that I didn’t want to remember her.

It was more this need to… actually sleep. Frank still commented on the dark circles as if I wasn’t painfully aware I resembled a zombie more than a human being.

My dark jeans hugged my legs as I tucked in the last of my white button-up and pulled my jacket tight around my body. My blue and black scarf wrapped twice around my neck, giving me a false sense of comfort. I hoped I looked approachable enough, because the only warning Frank had given me was that we were going to a party.

I asked if it was the type where we used guns.

And he only winced.

Which really couldn’t be a good sign.

“How long has it been?” I asked once we parked across the street, our black Mercedes blended in quite well with the rest of the Lincolns and Audis.

Frank frowned. “A while.”

“Well, that’s descriptive, thanks.”

He let out a low chuckle. “Just, don’t pull your gun. They’ll be offended.”

My eyes widened. “No shit? So if I pull a gun, I’m going to offend them, but they’re more than welcome to pull a gun on me?”

“You’ve been shot before.” He shrugged. “Just duck.”

“Wow.” I let out a low whistle. “For a loving grandfather, you kind of suck with the sentimental stuff.”

He chuckled as I got out of the car and then abruptly pulled me into his arms for a hug, slapping the shit out of my back at least three times before kissing both of my cheeks.

“What the hell was that?” I whispered, not sure if I was more amused or uncomfortable.

“That—” he pointed back at the house “—was for the men that I know without a doubt are watching us. They need not know of your identity just yet… but mine? They will know me. They do not need to know your name. Listen very carefully. Here you are not Abandonato. Here you are a business man.”

Well that was easy. I
was
a businessman. I owned several businesses, but they were all
Abandonato
businesses.

“Do I have a different name too?”

“Sergio.” He grinned as the wind picked up blowing his thick wavy grey hair away from his face, it made him look younger. “Just Sergio.”

“Yeah, I give them five seconds to see through that.”

“Eh, people see what you want them to see. You know that as well as I.”

I gulped and looked away as his point aimed straight for my heart and dug in. I’d been feeling guilty about putting on a good show for my family back home in Chicago. Frank was the only one who knew it was all complete bullshit.

That I was lost.

That I felt like I would
be
lost forever.

And the fear that came along with it — the fear that I’d found my home, only to lose it, along with the comfort that I’d never feel that way again.

Ever.

“Let’s go.” He slapped my back one last time as we walked across the street and made our way up the stairs to a neat brownstone. It was old, but well kept. The brick clean, the door displaying a nice knocker, and the mat in front of the door said
Welcome
.

Hah, if they only knew…

Frank raised his hand to knock.

But it wasn’t needed.

I knew it wasn’t needed, he knew it wasn’t needed, but for appearances, he did it anyway.

The door swung open.

A tall man with dark hair stood blocking our view. He had shots of gray woven through his hair, and he was holding a glass of wine, his lips pressed together in a tight frown.

I stood my ground. Ready to take a bullet for the Alfero boss if need be — the last thing I wanted was to be held partially responsible for the killing of the last of the legends.

Because that’s what Frank was.

A legend.

“You.” The man seethed.

Frank’s cold stare had me wanting to chuckle. Damn the man was a bastard when he wanted to be. He tilted his head to the side and said. “Aren’t you going to invite me in, Gio?”

“Go to hell,” Gio whispered. “They are safe. I have kept them safe.”

Another stare down took place.

We really didn’t want to be standing in the street, our backs exposed, our necks popping out like a dart board just waiting for the darts to come flying.

“Gio,” I repeated the name and held out my hand. “I’m Sergio, Frank’s… grandson.”

He stared down at my hand then narrowed his eyes. “You’re no more his grandson then I’m his aunt.”

I took his half outstretched hand and squeezed. “And you have a very odd way of welcoming your family into your home…” I peered around him. “Roast pig? Sounds delicious.” I shoved past him and entered the house, as he cursed behind me.

I expected a party.

Something small.

Like a birthday party.

I might come from a big family, but the bosses and wives, we mainly kept to ourselves, because we couldn’t trust anyone.

So a party would include, what? Twelve of us?

Though I remembered years when I was younger, when parties occurred every night, when the entire neighborhood would drink wine and laugh.

Suddenly I was transported back to my childhood.

Back to a simpler time, when Andi would have been alive.

When I was a child and innocent in the ways of the world.

In the ways of the mafia.

Women laughed loudly while they piled plates of food, men smoked cigars in the corner, their gestures big and loud.

And then, as if an announcement was made.

All talking and laughter stopped.

I was used to people staring.

So I straightened my shoulders and glared through every face, armor firmly in place. Just try it; seriously, my finger was itching to pull a trigger. I needed to get the aggression out somehow.

Frank’s hand gripped my shoulder. “Allow me to introduce… my grandson, Sergio.”

Men literally parted like water as we walked through the house, some ducked their heads, others nervously looked away while cursing under their breath.

But the women.

Appeared pissed.

More than pissed.

As if they knew Frank’s entire story and were just itching to scratch his eyes out.

Huh, no wonder he never visited home.

Not one friendly face.

But at least no guns.

I had to admit, I was disappointed.

“Eat.” A woman approached us, swallowing slowly as her eyes darted between the two of us. “We have two roast pigs.”

“Must be some celebration,” I spoke, careful to keep the slight accent from my voice. Andi had always said it came when I was either really emotional — or in bed. I pushed at the painful memory, but it clawed itself back into my consciousness, when the woman in front of us smiled warmly and handed me a plate.

She pressed a hand to my wrist and whispered, “Eat.”

Because that made my wife not dead.

Food?

Italians.

The plate felt foreign in my hands and, for a minute, I was disoriented as if I truly wasn’t aware of the purpose it served.

“You put food on it,” Frank muttered under his breath as he moved past me and started pulling at the pork.

The woman’s smile turned into a frown. “Are you… vegetarian?”

And again all talking ceased.

God save me, you’d think she just asked if I’d denounced the Italian flag and didn’t go to mass.

“No.” I forced a smile. “Just… really jet lagged.”

“Oh.” People around me exhaled all together and then started chattering; I wondered if they would kick me out if I said I preferred soymilk?

There was so much food I didn’t even know where to start. Huh, was that how Phoenix used to feel when I made fun of him for not eating? Back in the day, he’d thought that he didn’t deserve any kind of pleasure, that even tasting chocolate or wine would cause him to relapse into the sexual predator that he’d convinced himself he was. Asking the man to eat a grape was a life or death situation — or it had been. Until he was saved.

Damn it.

I didn’t want to be saved.

No saving was needed.

Because the truth of the matter was, I wasn’t really lost. I was just… empty.

The truth hit me so hard, I sucked in a breath. My chest cracked, just a bit as I mindlessly started piling food onto a plate that I knew within five minutes would be dumped into the trash.

“So…” The woman’s eyes were too intelligent for my liking. Her black hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, and her face was smooth and clear. It was nearly impossible to tell how old she was, but I knew she was at least pushing sixty. I frowned. Or maybe younger? She was beautiful, but clearly old enough to be my mother. “You do not like food then?”

I pressed my lips together in a tight smile and was about to answer, when Frank wrapped a strong arm around my shoulder. “There has been a loss.”

“A loss?” she repeated taking a step back from me.

I didn’t know what to say. What the hell was he doing?

“He has lost himself.”

The woman nodded sagely as if she hung on every piece of shit that flew out of his mouth.

“But he will find it.” Frank squeezed my shoulder. “Because if he doesn’t, I imagine she would be disappointed, and the last thing a man needs is to disappoint the one he lives for. Isn’t that right, grandson?”