Made (32 page)

A minute later an orange and green aluminum can slid onto the bar in front of him.
Cactus Cooler
.

Brow furrowing, he glanced at the bartender. "Do I know you?"

"No, but I know you," he said. "Or, well, I know who you are. Management said you were coming and told us to stock that stuff, just in case you asked for it."

Corrado laughed to himself, picking up the can and studying it. "I haven't drank this in years."

"Oh. Well, if you'd prefer something else..."

"No, it'll do." Popping the top, he took a sip of the orange-pineapple soda and nodded at the bartender. "Thanks."

Clutching his drink, he strolled through the casino to the elevator, taking it to the top-floor. With the bulletproof windows and secret tunnels, the presidential suite was a mobster's dream...
literally
.

One had designed it.

Corrado unlocked the door and stepped inside, finding the bed empty. He made his way toward the dim bathroom, hearing the subtle sound of splashing water, and pushed open the door. Celia lay in the bathtub, lit candles surrounding her, a heap of bubbles covering her body. Leaning against the doorframe, he took a sip of his drink.

"Corrado Alphonse Moretti," she said playfully. "Are you drinking something
carbonated
?"

"Cactus Cooler."

"What the hell is that?"

He walked over and sat down on the edge of the tub as she sat up, sloshing water onto the floor. He handed her the can, and she sniffed it. "This isn't cactus juice, is it? Because it would be just like you to drink some healthy crap like that."

"Don't worry—it's right up your junk food alley."

She took a sip as she surveyed him in the dim lighting. "What happened to your face?"

"My mother happened."

"She hit you?"

"No," he said. "She shot at me."

She gasped, gaping at him, as he took the drink back.

"Needless to say," he continued, "I'm rescinding her invitation to the wedding."

Setting the can down, Corrado reached over and brushed some wayward hair from her face before cupping her chin, his thumb stroking her soft cheek. "You are far too beautiful to be marrying into my family,
Bellissima
."

Her expression softened. "Are you rescinding my invitation, too? Because if you try, I'll just crash the party."

"It wouldn't be a party without you," he said. "Just me in a suit, jacking off in a church like a chump."

She snorted. "Sounds like a good time to me."

Smiling, he leaned down to softly kiss her. He pulled back, but she grabbed his tie, locking him there. "You mentioned something earlier about a basement tunnel. How do you feel about making good on that?"

"So, about this Maura girl..."

Corrado closed his eyes, a long exaggerated blink of exasperation, before looking across the small table at his fiancée. Celia casually picked at a plate of bacon, a glass of fresh squeezed orange juice in her hand. "What about her?"

"What's going to happen to her?"

He frowned. "Have you been talking to your brother?"

"Huh? Why?"

"He asked me that same question."

"Did he?"

"Yes, and I'll tell you what I told him: I don't know."

"You don't?"

"No."

"Can you find out?"

He stared at her peculiarly. Why would he do that?

"Don't give me that look, Corrado," she said. "She's a fifteen year old girl."

"How do you know how old she is?"

"Vincent told me."

Sighing, Corrado closed his newspaper. She had talked to Vincent. "Did you lie to me?"

"No," she said. "I just avoided answering your question."

He wanted to be annoyed, but he was too impressed by her manipulation. Had she learned that from him?

"So?" she pressed. "Can you?"

"I
can
. Doesn't mean I will."

"Oh, you will," she said with certainty.

"How do you know?"

"Because I'm going to say
please
."

Tossing the newspaper aside, he stared at her, that irritation setting in. "I can afford to hire a maid. You don't need a slave."

She flinched, stopping eating. "How can you say that?"

"Say what?"

"What you just said." Anger laced her words. "She's a person. A living, breathing, feeling 
person
."

"I know she is."

"Do you?"

"Of course."

He picked his newspaper back up, flipping to the place he'd left off minutes earlier. As soon as he started reading, Celia shoved her chair back and stood, snatching the top of the paper and shoving it down to look him in the eyes.

"Then act like it," she sneered.

Celia stormed off, slamming drawers as she changed into her one-piece bright blue bathing suit. She grabbed a towel and her sunglasses, not even acknowledging him again as she stormed out of the suite, slamming the door behind her as she went.

Frustrated, Corrado threw the paper aside, grabbing a muffin from the small basket in the center of the table before striding after her. He made his way to the lobby and out toward the pool, lingering at the side of the building as he watched her dive into the water.

"Corrado." The familiar voice of the Boss rang out behind him.

Corrado took in the sight of the husky man, bare-chested, wearing nothing but a pair of black swimming trunks. "Sir."

"You seen your father this morning?"

"Uh, no, sir."

"He's supposed to be around here," Antonio said. "You know, handling some things."

Antonio slapped him on the back before walking away, finding a spot to settle beside the pool near where his daughter swam.

Corrado slipped back inside the casino and gnawed on his muffin as he made his way through the lobby and to the office down the long hallway. He knocked on the door before stepping inside.

Vito sat behind the desk, surrounded by paperwork. Corrado sat down in the chair along the side—the same chair he'd taken up residence in day after day when coming to work with his father as a child.

"Your mother, uh… she's getting some help."

Corrado quietly ate his muffin.

"It's this outpatient thing," Vito said, "you know, at home."

Of course.
It would take a miracle to get Erika Moretti to leave her house for
anything
.

"Doctor's gonna make house calls… so is the counselor."

"Counselor?"

"Yeah, like a drug counselor," he grumbled. "Not one of them crazy doctors. Your mother… the last thing she needs is some doctor fucking with that head of hers."

"You think it'll work?" Corrado asked.

"Of course, kid. She ain't
that
bad."

Corrado's opinion differed.

"She'll be fine," Vito said. Who was he trying to convince—Corrado or himself? "She's more pissed she has to do all the housework. That woman doesn't have a domestic bone in her body."

"She has help."

"Yeah, uh, not anymore," Vito said. "Can't have that girl in the house with those people coming by. Gotta be careful."

"What's going to happen to her?" Corrado mentally berated himself when he asked the question. Damn the DeMarco kids, putting those thoughts in his head. "You going to send her back wherever you got her?"

Seemed like a simple solution to him.

"Not possible," Vito said. "I lost twenty thousand getting that girl. You don't know anyone who could use some help, do you?"

"No."

"Celia couldn't use an extra set of hands? Maura's a good worker. Nice girl. Never caused any problems."

"You don't have to convince
me
of that. I was around her more than you were."

"Yeah, right, right… you're right. So? You want her? Maura?"

No
. He stared at his father, that word echoing in his head, but Celia's concerns overshadowed it. "I'm sure Celia wouldn't be opposed to it."

"Great." Vito relaxed as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. "Call it a wedding present from your mother and me."

The pool area was packed when Corrado ventured back outside, scantily clad bodies everywhere. Corrado scanned the crowd, finding Antonio and Gia lounging in the bright sunshine, but no Celia to be found.

Heading back upstairs to the suite, he unlocked the door, his footsteps faltering. The sound of frantic crying reached his ears. Coldness swept through Corrado, every cell in his body on edge.

Celia sat at the foot of the
bed,
her head dropped low, her hands covering her face as her body shuddered.

"Celia?" he called, as he shut the door. "Sweetheart?"

She looked up at the sound of his voice, tears streaming from her blurry eyes, streaking her flushed cheeks. The crying stopped for a fraction of a second, just long enough for the universe to feel like someone had hit pause. The world had ceased to turn in that moment. Nothing existed—nothing mattered—except for Celia. He stared into her distraught eyes, vowing he'd destroy whatever made her feel that way. He'd kill whoever hurt the beautiful creature in front of him, whoever had been so callous and cruel as to make something so precious feel such pain.

He'd tear the world apart until he got vengeance.

But that moment faded when she covered her mouth to stifle a sob. Shutting the door, Corrado hurried over to her and grasped her hands, pulling them away from her face. Crouching down in front of her, he stared into her eyes. "Tell me what's wrong."

"We fought." The words came out as a strangled cry.

Fought
? "You got in a fight?"

"We did."

"Who did?"

"Us," she gasped. "Me and you."

"What? When?"

"Earlier." She hiccupped as tears spilled down her cheeks. "I was so mad… and when I came back, you were gone. I didn't know where you went! I looked, and I couldn't find you, so I came back up here and you still weren't here, so I thought…"

He gaped at her, dumbfounded as she stammered on and on. "Celia, calm down."

"We're not even married yet," she cried. "We're already fighting!"

"We didn't fight," he insisted. "We
aren't
fighting."

Her crying slowed to a whimper as she caught her breath.

"My parents fight," he continued. "We just had a disagreement."

Celia sniffled, gazing at him. "What's the difference?"

"We're not always going to agree, Celia. It's impossible. You're a spitfire. You're going to have your opinions, and I can guarantee I'm not always going to approve of them."

"You should," she said, her voice cracking. "I'm always right."

"Like I said—we won't always agree." He cracked a smile. "But never,
never
will I fight with you. I'll never scream at you, I'll never throw things at you, and I'll
never
hit you.
And if someone else ever does?
I'll—"