Code of Silence: Cosa Nostra #2 (4 page)

As soon as she left her dad’s office, she instructed Gio drive her to the motel where Vincent was staying. When he opened the door, she rushed straight into his arms. Only then, once those sculpted arms were around her and their bodies were touching, did she weep. He stepped back a few paces and then pushed the door shut with his foot, closing them in the room alone. His arms tightened around her in a python grip as if he’d been waiting for her for hours. Burying his face in her hair, she heard him inhale a deep, unsteady breath. 

“I can’t believe this is happening,” she whispered into his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry.” He lifted one hand up to cradle the nape of her neck tenderly. “I’m so sorry they’re doing this to you.”

“What was your dad thinking?” she asked, pulling back enough to look at him. “Why would he even suggest something like this?”

“To punish me, maybe?” he said. “I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter. Let’s just go. We’ll do what you always said and just take off.”

“Now you want to run?” she asked with a bitter scoff. This new nightmare seemed to fit their run of bad luck. Turning from him, she wiped her cheeks. “Now that I
can’t
.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just can’t,” she said.

“Then what are you going to do? Are you going to go through with it?” She could hear the concern in his voice even though her back was to him. “Bela, look at me and tell me you’re not going to do it.”

The desperation in his tone brought on another swarm of tears. They clouded her voice, making it difficult to speak.

“Look at me.” He took her by the elbow and turned her to face him. He peered deep into her eyes, reading her very soul. “Tell me you’re not going to marry my brother.”

Her voice trembled as she said in a heartbroken whisper, “I have to.”

“Why?” he demanded, those analytical eyes making her feel like she was being interrogated. “Someone said something to make you do this. What was it?”

“Nothing.”

“You don’t have to be afraid of them,” he said. “Just tell me what happened and we’ll face it together.”

The more he spoke, the more her heart began to hurt. A couple tears escaped, leaving tiny wet trails down her cheeks. Bringing her palm up, she wiped them away and glanced at the floor; anywhere but his wounded eyes.

“I care about you too much to let them do this to you,” he said. “Too much to watch you
marry
my
brother
.”

“I don’t want this either.” Angry tears festered in her eyes again, skewing her vision of him. Blinking them back, she tried to remain strong. “Trust me. I really,
really
don’t want to do this, but I don’t see a way out.”

He covered his mouth as he began to pace, thinking. “It’s okay,” he said, his breath quickening as if his thoughts were rushed. “It’s fine. I’ll just move up my timetable.”

“What?”

“You’ll agree to marry him,” he said. “But before the wedding happens, I’ll find whatever proof I need to arrest your dad. Once he’s in jail, there’s nothing holding you to the arrangement. Then we’re free to run.” With a wry, hopeful smile he added, “Sipping pina coladas on the beach.”

After more lies and deception, she thought. Still, it was the only version of her future she was willing to accept. “All right,” she said. “But I’m counting on you to arrest him, or I’ll be stuck—”

“I know.” He rushed forward, pulling her into another tight, desperate squeeze. With those strong, sturdy arms wrapped around her, she somehow knew this messy situation would work itself out. Even though it seemed impossible, she trusted him to protect her from it. “I don’t care what it takes,” he whispered. “I’m going to get you out of this. I
promise
.”

~~~

“Just a little bit farther,” Trey said, holding her hand as they weaved down the sidewalk. They came to a building. Pulling open the door, he held it for her.

“Would you just tell me where we’re going?” Mandi asked.

“Would you just let me surprise you?” With a teasing smile, he ushered her into the building. It was dark inside and she didn’t see any windows. “Okay, ready?”

“Yes,” she said with a giggle.

He flipped a switch, illuminating the room with lights. Large fluorescent bulbs came on, one at a time, allowing her to see the room was a dance studio. Complete with wall-to-wall mirrors, balance beams and a perfectly polished wooden floor. The sight of it took her breath away. “What’s going on?”

“It’s yours.” Standing in the center of the room, he spread his arms out. “What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful,” she said. “But…”

“I remembered what you said that night, about how you wanted to open a dance studio. Remember? You said those who can’t do, teach.” He chuckled. “And you were so upset about me firing you, I thought this might be a nice compromise. You still get to do what you love and…frankly I won’t have to be so jealous all the time.”

Words escaped her grasp. She was touched he’d remembered something she’d just mentioned one night, but at the same time, there were so many obstacles standing in the way. “I don’t have a teaching license,” she said. “And the baby will be here within the year, then what?”

“I know a guy who can take care of the paperwork and get you whatever you need. When the baby comes, you can hire a substitute. You’ll still have this place waiting for you whenever you’re ready to come back to work.” Taking her hand, he led her across the room. “I’m working on getting you a list of clients. A lot of the guys I work with have daughters and every little girl loves to dance.”

He pushed open a door and turned on the light, revealing a room full of lockers and benches. “Here’s a locker room, and there’s an office in the back.”

“This is incredible,” she said.

He beamed a proud smile. “I told you I’d take care of you.”

There was a lot to think about, but she found her mind brimming with possibilities and hope as she looked around the empty dance studio. She pictured it filled with little girls practicing pirouettes and this brought a smile.

“And, I know how you like your independence, so the deed will be in
your
name. It won’t be tied to me or my business at all. This place…” he motioned to the building around him. “This place is legit. Minus a few forged degrees, of course.”

In that moment, she couldn’t help but feel like she was sleeping with the devil. He offered her the world—all her dreams on a silver platter, but at the expense of her soul. When the devil looked like Trey DeLuca and proved time after time he was madly in love with you, who could resist?

Engagement Party

Two days after the dinner from hell, the families threw a gala to announce the engagement. Claudia chose a stunning champagne colored, one-shoulder dress for Bela to wear. Elegant beadwork detailed the sweetheart bodice and single strap on the floor length gown as delicate empire ruching hugged the bodice tight. From there, layers of gauzy chiffon flowed to the floor. The gown made her feel like a princess and, at one fell swoop, it depressed her that it was wasted on such a twisted occasion.

A small platform sat to the far side of the room where she was instructed to wait until the announcement was made. Until then, guests mingled in the grand ballroom, with its towering ceilings and polished hardwood floors. Tables set up on either side of the room held an array of Italian food, while waiters circled the room with trays of appetizers and glasses of Champagne.

Finally, Sal and Dante approached the microphone in the center of the stage and called for everybody’s attention.

In the crowd, Bela spotted Vincent. Wearing his usual sleek, black-on-black suit, he was planted at the bar and drinking a glass of what looked like Scotch on the rocks. Knowing this must be killing him, she couldn’t bear to watch and forced herself to look away.

“Welcome dear friends, family and associates,” Sal began. “We invite all of you here tonight to celebrate the union of our families.”

Standing beside her father, Dante motioned for Bela and Rafe to stand. They went on to explain how this merger would bring peace to the streets and profit to everyone. Then Sal and Dante stepped back, guiding their children to center stage.

Turning to Bela, Rafe made a big show of kneeling on one knee. With a quick glance at the crowd, she saw all eyes were on them—even Vincent’s—and felt the air in the room thicken. It turned so hot on stage, she could barely breathe.

Rafe pulled a small box out of his pocket and offered up a dazzling ring. A circle of tiny, sparkling stones encased a princess cut diamond. When he slid the golden band on her finger, it felt heavier than she imagined it could.

She managed a polite smile for the sake of their show, and then he stood. Just when she thought this terrible moment was over, he grabbed her. It all happened so fast, his arm looping around her waist, pulling her close. His lips closed over hers in a deep, passionate kiss. The crowd cheered, shouting wishes of good luck in Italian. Bela froze—turning as stiff as stone in his arms. Pushing him away would insult his family and make this entire ‘union’ seem false, but kissing him back would break his brother’s heart.

Finally, Rafe shifted away enough to motion for a nearby waiter. Taking two glasses of Champagne, he handed one to Bela. With a beaming, charming smile, he lifted his glass to make a toast. “To peace,” he shouted, without using the microphone.

The crowd repeated him, lifting their glasses in celebration. As they all drank to the toast, Bela caught Vincent’s gaze once again over the rim of her glass. It was gut-wrenching, seeing the mix of heartache and jealousy splayed on his handsome face.

As soon as she could break away from Rafe and her father, Bela headed over to the bar for something stronger than Champagne. It was just good luck Vincent happened to be stationed there, with an open spot beside him. She gave a quick glance around and, after confirming nobody important was around, she slid onto the empty stool and ordered a martini.

She kept herself facing the bar and didn’t look at him, but the mirror in the back allowed her to see his face in the reflection. He looked miserable, and it broke her heart even more. “Tell me this terrible night is almost over,” she said.

“With the way Italians celebrate.” He gave a bitter chuckle and lifted his glass to his lips. “I wouldn’t bank on it.”

In the mirror across from them, she watched him as he took a drink and also kept an eye out for their fathers or Rafe. “You’re hitting the Scotch pretty hard tonight.”

“It’s the only way I’m going to keep my mouth shut.”

“Tell me about it.” She stopped talking while the bartender brought her martini. She took a sip before she began again. “Look…about that kiss—”

He dipped his head, his dark eyes focusing on the single ice-cube floating around in the amber liquid. “I’m sorry he did that to you,” he said. “Rafe likes to put on a show.”

“I’m sorry you had to see it.”

His expression altered to unreadable again. Looking over his shoulder, he gave a glance behind them. “You should go. We don’t want him to see us together.”

“Right,” she said as she pushed off the bar stool. Taking her glass with her, she went to mingle. She was thankful when she found Mandi and Trey before she encountered anybody else.

“This is so strange,” Mandi said as Bela approached. “I don’t know whether to congratulate you or apologize.”

Bela chuckled. “Either would work, I guess.”

Trey nodded toward Vincent. “How’s he doing?”

“About how you’d expect.” She looked over just as the bartender served him another drink. “Do me a favor, would you?”

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Trey said with a nod.

Just then, Rafe approached and took her by the elbow. She couldn’t help but notice the way he addressed Trey and not her when he said, “Mind if I steal a minute with my bride-to-be?”

Trey glanced at Bela for approval.

“Of course,” she answered with a forced smile. With a glance at Mandi and Trey, she said, “Excuse us.”

She could feel Trey’s gaze—even and threatening—on Rafe as he walked her to the door and out into the lobby of the dining hall. Once they were alone, Rafe released her elbow.

“I know it can’t be easy for you and Vincent to go cold turkey,” he said, “but try to keep it out of the public eye, all right? We have an image to uphold.”

“I was just getting a drink,” she said, lifting the glass to show him.

“Sure you were.” He looked around to make sure no one was nearby and then returned his gaze to her. “Look, I don’t want this any more than you do, but it is what it is. And if you had any other boyfriend besides my brother I’d look the other way. But sharing you with him is a little twisted, even for my tastes.”

A rush of insult pumped through her blood. Anger snaked through her veins, hot and quick. “Let’s get one thing straight. They might be forcing me to marry you, but I will
never
be your wife.” Unable to control the rage—at him, at her father, at this entire messed up situation—she swung her arm and splashed her drink in his face.

His jaw tightened as the cool alcohol dripped down onto his suit. She turned to walk away, but his hand clamped down on her arm, just above the elbow and pulled her back. His chest pressed into her arm as he leaned close to bring his lips to her ear. His low, threatening whisper sent a chill down her spine. “You’re stuck with me princess, so get used to it.”

He released her arm with a jerk, then took a hanker chief out of his pocket and wiped his face. He shrugged out of his blazer, draped it over one arm and
viola
…he looked good as new. He gave her a chilling smile as he returned to the ballroom.

~~~

“How hard can it be to get the warrant?” The next afternoon, Vincent paced across the abandoned warehouse in a rage. “I’ve handed you half-a-dozen felonies!”

“Nothing big enough to nail Salvatore DeLuca,” Daniel said. He was sitting at the small meeting table strewn with files. His shoulders were relaxed and his legs were crossed, calm and casual, as if none of this mattered. As if everything Vincent cared about wasn’t riding on this case.

“What about the murder of his wife?” he asked, a spark of hope. “We have proof he ordered the hit.”

“Right,” he said. “A hit. At best it’s conspiracy. With a good lawyer, he won’t even see jail time. If he doesn’t flee the country the second he makes bail, and he will make bail.”

Fed up with all of his work and sweat being in vain, he turned around and punched one of the poster boards, sending his fist right through the cardboard and everything written on it.

“Look, I get it. You wanna stop your girl from marrying your brother, but—”

“How do you know about that?” Vincent asked, turning to his handler. “I know I never told you.”

“You’re not my only informant.”

“You have someone else on my job?” Vincent demanded, his temper pulsing quick and hot.

“No. I have someone else handling a different case. You know I can’t tell you more than that.”

“Well I can’t discuss Bela,” he said. “So stop talking about her. Even with all of your informants, you don’t know shit. You got it?”

“It all boils down to this,” Daniel said, standing. “If you want Sal out of the picture, then we’re going to have to catch him smack in the middle of something very big and very illegal. Which means you need in the inner circle. Following Junior around isn’t going to cut it anymore.”

“How am I supposed to do that?” he asked. “I’ve only been working for Trey for a couple months.”

“I don’t know,” he said. “But if you want to save your girl, you’ll figure it out.”

~~~

In the solitude and safety of her new dance studio, Mandi practiced her art and tried to escape her thoughts. She didn’t like to admit it, but her pregnancy was drudging up too many painful memories from the past. She kept thinking about the time she’d tried to tell her adoptive mother that her husband had been sneaking into her room at night. That moment—the one where no one listened, the one where the woman who raised her had refused to take her side—was the moment her life turned to a shattered mess. It was when she stopped trusting people. Now, that very deep scar was making her afraid to be a mother herself.

It was also unsettling, the way Sal had just traded Bela to his sworn enemy without a thought. And it was clear Sal had primed Trey to be just like him—probably ever since he was a child. Were those the kinds of things her child would grow up to endure to? Once she gave birth, would she have a voice in any of the decisions, or would her opinion become as meaningless as Bela’s?

Keeping with the rhythm of the music, she leapt in the air and came down in a spin, but missed her landing. She fell to the hardwood floor with one leg tucked under her body and one arm twisted under her torso. Straightening herself out, she let her body rest on the floor. Angling her head toward the mirrors, she looked into her reflection.

In that wall of mirrors, she didn’t catch even a glimpse of a magical pregnancy glow. She saw the pasty, washed out skin and too-thin body of a former stripper. She saw dull hair pulled into a sloppy bun. Though her dance clothes were new and expensive, they looked like they belonged to someone else. Someone who wasn’t an orphaned, damaged stripper.

Even if she forgave herself for getting undressed for money, she was still an orphan. Given up by her birth parents and kicked to the curb by the very people who’d adopted her after that. What did she know about parenting? What did she know about babies and taking care of people? What did she know about love?

There was so much to learn, so much to process, and already Trey was talking about doing the honorable thing and making an ‘honest woman’ out of her. The thought of marriage, on top of everything else, made her want to flee. Still, she knew it was just a matter of time before he brought it up. No respectable Italian man would want his child to be born a bastard. Knowing that didn’t mean she was ready to be his wife.

Deep down, she knew she should talk to Trey about all of this. She didn’t bother because she knew what he would do. He would talk her out of a decision she’d already made, a decision she knew was best for her right now. It wasn’t easy to admit, but she knew she couldn’t go through with this pregnancy. She had an appointment tomorrow, and after then, her troubles would be over.

She knew Trey would be pissed. He’d see it as a betrayal. Their relationship might even implode and she might lose this dance studio. She’d lose him, for sure. If not right away, then he’d drift over time. Those were problems she could handle; issues she could conquer. The alternative—giving birth to a DeLuca heir—proved far too overwhelming to handle.