Thin Lies (Donati Bloodlines #1) (5 page)

This
woman looked a hell of lot more like the one Calisto had done his research on.

“Fair
warning,” he said, “Affonso despises red lipstick.”

“I
know. My father made me wash it off this morning and use my mother’s pink
garbage.”

“And
the dress you were wearing?”

“Something
else picked out by my father.”

Calisto
cleared his throat. “What are you trying to prove? I can’t exactly let you go
out like this.”

“You
don’t have to do anything. All you have to say is that you let me run up to the
penthouse, and I came back like this. You didn’t have a choice because we were
going to be late.”

That
was bad.

Dirty
pool.

Calisto
liked it.

“Do
you have no interest at all in making Affonso into some kind of bearable
husband for you?” he asked.

Emma
didn’t even blink. “Why should I? He doesn’t give a damn about being a good
husband to me.”

He’d
bested her in the car.

She
had him this time, however.

“Point
taken,” Calisto admitted. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Emmy.”

“I
won’t.” Emma looked over her manicured nails as she said, “You know, you didn’t
answer my question in the car. The one about your father.”

“Because
I don’t know the answer.”

And
because he didn’t want to talk about it.

“Is
he in with the Donati family, too? He’s Affonso’s brother, right? I know better
than to ask anyone about New York business. No one talks.”

Calisto
scoffed darkly. “In with the family? You could say that—once. Don’t you have
the internet? Do a web search.”

Emma’s
brow furrowed. “I don’t need a recap on the hierarchy or rules of the mob,
thanks. I’m aware of how that all goes down.”

“Oh,
ragazza
,” Calisto murmured, shaking his head. “What you should be more
concerned with is the family you’re about to enter and how the man who heads it
got where he is. That is the information you might want to brush up on. Unless,
like your spoiled lifestyle might suggest, you prefer to bury your head in the
sand.”

“Hey,
now, don’t be an ass—”

“Don’t
bark at me,” Calisto interrupted coolly. “I’m just giving you a heads-up. We
have a couple more hours before the dinner party. Do you want to go through
some of your things while we have the time?”

Emma
made a face. “Nope. But the casino is open for business. That sounds like fun.”

Calisto
knew better. He did.

“Are
you any good at poker?” he asked.

Emma
smiled slyly. “I’m a Sorrento. We’re all good at poker.”

Emma
had a damn good poker face. Calisto gave credit where it was due. He’d thought
she was slick with cards, seeing as how she kicked his ass at the poker table,
but the fake smile she plastered on for the crowd, and the pretty, innocent
girl act she put on for Affonso was something else entirely.

Then
again, it was hard to seem innocent when the girl sported sky-high heels, a
dress that was short enough to make a man’s mouth water, and a smile that said
she knew it, too.

Calisto
found himself paying more attention to Emma than he knew he should be.

The
dinner went by smoothly, and for the most part, quietly. After they first
arrived back to the Sorrento family home for the dinner, Emma had brushed off
her father’s questions about her attire and her uncle’s demands that she wash
the red lipstick off.

Ten
minutes later, Affonso had arrived.

Calisto
had watched, amused to no end, as his uncle took his spot beside his soon-to-be
bride with an indifferent expression, but anger burning in his eyes. Affonso certainly
wasn’t happy that his chosen bride-to-be had sexed up her classy attire and
darkened her makeup for the dinner.

Emma
was playing with fire. It was liable to get her burned. Calisto still enjoyed
the show.

Sipping
from a glass of cognac, Calisto moved around the edge of the living room as the
main couple of the dinner party took the head of the room. Words exchanged
between Maximo and Affonso.

Another
show for the crowd.

Calisto
was bored.

Then
Emma stepped in beside Affonso when he called her name. Instantly, the false
smile she had been wearing all evening for the crowd suddenly melted away when
a ring was produced. Even from Calisto’s spot twenty feet away, he could
discern the shape and color of the jewelry.

A
blue sapphire, cut princess-style, rested atop a white gold band. The piece was
massive—ostentatious, even.

“…
 and to solidify an old friendship,” he heard his uncle say.

“Friendship,”
Maximo echoed.

Emma
allowed the ring to be slid down her finger.

But
she was blank all over.

After
downing the rest of his liquor, Calisto found the closest server he could to
hand off the glass. Stepping out back of the large home to the enclosed porch,
he lit up a cigarette and watched Maximo’s men laughed in a large group while
the pungent smell of weed wafted through the space.

The
men didn’t even notice he was there.

Calisto
didn’t mind.

He’d
just rejoined the people mingling in the house when Affonso settled in beside
his nephew.

“Making
friends?” Affonso asked.

Calisto
resisted the urge to scoff. “I’m not the one cementing friendships here tonight,
uncle.”

Affonso
chuckled dryly. “True. Nonetheless, it would still benefit you to make a few
connections here in Vegas, Cal.”

“Why?
I have no intention of doing business here. The business I handle in New York
is more than enough.”

“Mmm.
You would make a fantastic boss, Cal. All you have to do is—”

“Be
like you?” Calisto interrupted coldly. “No, thanks.”

Affonso
scowled. “You chose this life. There is no out. Perhaps if you would embrace your
blood, legacy, and position a little more, you might find it easier to accept
and move on from the past, Calisto.”

Right.

That
was a joke.

“I
chose this life because I wasn’t given a choice. Because
you
tricked me
into believing one thing, when in fact, all you did for most of my life was
feed me lies. Once you had me in, there was no getting out. You didn’t give me
a choice, uncle. And now I won’t give you one.”

Affonso
sighed harshly. “I only wanted to give you a chance to succeed after Richard
was gone.”

“Gone.
That’s an interesting way to put it. Why don’t you say it like it is, huh?”

His
uncle didn’t respond.

That
wasn’t anything new.

“I’m
leaving,” Affonso said quietly. “There was an issue back in New York that came
up. A scuffle between one of the Capo’s crews and the Marcello territory line.
A sit-down was requested. Immediately. I wanted to stay another day at least,
but I think it might be best if I go now. I would say Emma needs a bit of a
cool down period.”

“Have
a good flight.”

“Is
that all you have to say to me?”

Calisto
shrugged. “You’re my boss. I have to respect you. If you ask for much more,
uncle, I will start taking things back.”

Affonso
didn’t respond to that. Instead, his uncle spun on his heel and walked away.
Calisto didn’t bother to watch Affonso go, either.

Knowing
his uncle was out of the house reminded Calisto that he still had a job to do
here in Vegas.

Watching
Emma until the wedding in a month.

He
was starting to wonder if he should be doing that at all. His wayward thoughts earlier
in the day about the confusing girl were worrisome. He didn’t need the problems
they could bring. Keeping a healthy distance might help to clear his thoughts,
but that wasn’t exactly possible when he was expected to be the person who kept
the girl out of trouble.

Across
the room, Calisto found Emma talking with the woman he knew to be her mother.

She
still didn’t look particularly happy.

He
didn’t think that would change for her anytime soon.

Emma

The
girl across the counter slid the cup of hot steeped tea over the cash and into
Emma’s hand. Paying for the drink and thanking the barista, Emma moved to a
private corner booth in the back of the small café, and settled in with her
touchscreen tablet in hand.

Maybe
a bit of reading would clear her head.

The
new piece of jewelry on her left ring finger caught her attention when she
turned on the tablet. The large, three carat sapphire caught the reflection of
the overhead lights and shimmered. The engagement ring was beautiful, to be
sure, but Emma still hated it.

Hated
that it was a life sentence imposed on her.

A
punishment for being a girl—a Sorrento girl.

On
her wrist, a thin bracelet glittered with diamonds. She didn’t want to wear it,
either, but apparently it wasn’t her choice. Affonso had been sending gifts to
Vegas for her every day since his departure the week before. A new laptop with
a shiny Apple logo on the top. She also wore a necklace with a circular pendant
decorated in even more diamonds. A mink fur coat, as January in New York was a
great deal colder than in Nevada. Or so Affonso’s note on the gift said.

Wedding
plans were on.

Emma
ignored every bit she could.

Her
mother brought over pictures of table settings, linens, dress choices, and
color swatches daily, trying to get Emma involved in the process more and more.
Affonso hired event planners for the small, private affair that would be their
wedding, but her mother still demanded that the church be decorated to some
extent, as well as the venue for the small reception afterward.

Both
of her parents, and a few select family members—as well as her uncle’s closest
men—would make the trip to New York for the wedding. Invitations were being
sent to other syndicates in New York and out of state, as far as Emma
understood from the private conversations she had overheard.

Emma
just … didn’t care.

What
difference did it make?

It
wasn’t
her
day.

It
was her father’s day. Her uncle’s.

Affonso’s
day.

At
least with Affonso gone back to New York, her parents and her uncle backed off
a bit. Her lipstick color wasn’t criticized and the length of her dresses were
overlooked.

Her
babysitter, on the other hand, was never too far behind.

Keeping
her head tilted down, Emma shot a glance at the presence sitting a couple of
tables away from hers. Calisto tipped up a coffee, took a sip, and then grinned
in that knowing way of his. The way that said he knew she was watching him.

The
man had been keeping a distance lately. He rarely approached her, didn’t speak
unless they were in the same room and he didn’t have a choice, but he was
always close by somewhere.

Watching
her.

Keeping
tabs.

Unsettling
her.

When
she exited the elevator that took her from her penthouse to the casino’s foyer,
Calisto was waiting. The black rental he was driving stayed glued to the bumper
of her car, regardless of where she drove. He followed her into restaurants,
stayed outside of her friend’s homes when she visited, and kept quiet the
entire time.

Emma
didn’t know why Calisto had decided to stay further away from her while he kept
an eye on her, but she was both relieved and bothered by it.

Relieved
because she needed to breathe. She wanted to feel normal for a little while
longer, and the closer Calisto was, the harder it was for her to pretend like
she wasn’t going to be married in just three weeks.

On
the other hand, it left her bothered because Emma didn’t know much about
Calisto at all. When they first met, he didn’t seem to have a problem talking
to her or sticking close. Now, he had taken on an attitude of indifference. Her
father and uncle treated him with the utmost respect, handed the man a wide
berth of space when he entered their homes, and never questioned his job of
watching Emma.

Not
that they cared.

She
supposed her feelings on Calisto’s distance shouldn’t matter. He wasn’t her
friend, he was her watchdog, reporting her whereabouts and activities to her
soon-to-be husband back in New York. Mistaking Calisto’s charming smile and
conversations from the week before as an offer of friendship might do more harm
than good. The last thing Emma wanted or needed was a snake waiting to bite her
when she wasn’t looking.

The
fact that Calisto was both Affonso’s nephew and his consigliere couldn’t be ignored.
Loyalty to the boss was everything in Cosa Nostra. Emma wouldn’t pretend like
she had an ally in Calisto Donati, simply because the man had given off the
impression that he wasn’t all that close to his uncle.

Sighing,
Emma went back to her tablet to check her emails. A few were from friends at
school, wondering where she had been for the last week. Another was from the
head of her study group, asking if her spot could be filled with another
student, since she obviously wasn’t using it. Under her father’s instructions—by
demand of her uncle—she had withdrawn from her three classes at college.

She
hadn’t exactly been serious about college before. Mostly, she had treated it
like a part-time thing that gave her something to do. Now that she didn’t have
the choice at all regarding her schooling, she was starting to wish that she
had taken more time to appreciate it.

All
over again, her fuckups were staring Emma right in the face. Her gullibility
mocked her without saying a single word.

George
and her mother Minnie had never pushed Emma to go to college. After high
school, she was given a stipend of her trust fund at the beginning of each
month that was deposited straight into her bank account for whatever she
wanted. The penthouse had been a gift from her father, as had her cherry-red
Mustang.

Growing
up like she had, spoiled and kept like a little doll, had made her think that’s
how she would always be. Taken care of by someone else. Wealthy without lifting
a single finger. Overindulged, with material possessions to make up for the
lack of emotional connection.

Emma
hadn’t realized how awful all that was until her mistakes were laughing at her.

She
was disgusted with herself.

Maybe
she did deserve what she was getting, after all.

“You
look like you just swallowed a spider,” came a voice at her side.

Blinking
out of her daze, Emma glanced up from her tablet to see Calisto sliding in
across the table. Not wanting him to know about her internal war and
self-hatred, she clicked off her tablet and donned a mask of indifference.

“Zoned
out. Checking emails can be a boring task.”

Calisto
arched a brow like he didn’t believe her for a second. “I didn’t know you had
so much work, friends, and business to do that your emails were flooded daily.”

Ouch
.

Even
little old Emma with her head stuck firmly in the sand could hear the jeer in
Calisto’s words.

“Making
fun of me is a little low, isn’t it?” she asked bitingly.

“I’m
not making fun of you.”

“Aren’t
you? Listen, I realize that to you, I’m probably nothing more than a spoiled
mafia princess who is finally being put to use for her family, but I’m also a
person, Calisto. A real fucking person with feelings. I don’t need you to point
out my flaws—I am well aware of them.”

Calisto
leaned back in the booth, his stare never leaving hers. A million and one
questions flickered through his gaze, but the man stayed quiet.

It
unsettled her.

“Stop
doing that,” Emma snapped.

“Doing
what?”

The
deep tenor of his voice lifted a bit in his confusion. Emma still thought
Calisto’s tone was almost musical. Like just speaking was an art form for him.
She didn’t know anyone else in her life who could talk with emotion in their
voice while their face was nothing more than a blank slate, unreadable and
cold.

Emma
fidgeted under the booth table. “Looking at me like that, like you’re trying to
pick me apart or something. Quit it, Calisto. I told you, I’m aware of my
flaws. There’s no need for you to go pointing them out, too. Everyone else is
already getting a wonderful laugh at my expense. Can’t you let me suffer in
peace?”

“I’m
not sure what you mean,
dolcezza
, but I was only trying to make you
smile with a joke. You were over here frowning and letting your tea get cold. I
thought maybe …” Calisto trailed off, scowling. “You know what, I thought
nothing. Your unhappiness isn’t my concern, you’re right. And if you feel like
your suffering is by your own hand, then that also isn’t my concern. Growing
up, I was taught that those who make their beds deserve to sleep in them.”

If
his earlier words had hurt, those ones damn well ached. He could have slapped
her and it would have felt better.

Emma’s
jaw fell open, and a breath caught painfully in her chest. “I didn’t make this
bed.”

“That’s
not what you just told me.”

She
fiddled with the sleeve of her coat, feeling the rough tweed rub against the
pad of her thumb. For a moment, the action soothed her for whatever reason.

“I
was thinking of something before you came over,” Emma admitted. “What you said
struck a nerve, and I didn’t take it as the joke you meant it because of that.
I shouldn’t have snapped at you, Calisto. I’m sorry.”

He
took in her words without responding. Lifting his cup of coffee, he took another
sip and then set it back on the table.

“The
spoiled
Mafioso principessa
nonsense that you barked at me,” he said
quietly. “Was that what you were thinking about?”

Emma
glanced away, refusing to meet Calisto’s piercing brown-black stare. She never
was any good at hiding her true feelings. She didn’t want him to see the anger
and shame that had to be shining brightly in her eyes.

“Yes,”
she said.

Calisto
hummed under his breath with a sound that came off as understanding and interested
at the same time. Emma felt her invisible walls shudder at Calisto’s vague
offer of sympathy. She was again reminded of who this man was, the person he
was close to, and how he could hurt her with it.

She
wouldn’t give him the ammo.

Not
willingly.

“I
was mistaken,” Calisto murmured.

Emma’s
gaze cut back to her companion instantly. “About what?”

“The
bed I thought you made. What I said, I guess.”

“Actually,
you were right. My unhappiness isn’t your concern. You’re not required to fix
how I feel or make it better. I don’t want you to.”

Emma
figured putting that out there was better for both her and Calisto. That way,
the man knew she wasn’t up for playing games with him. If all he wanted to do
was try and get closer to her in order to feed information to Affonso, then he
had another thing coming.

“Not
what I meant,” Calisto said, waving a hand as if to dismiss her words.
“Although, someone telling you the truth might help the way you feel, no
doubt.”

“How
do you know anything about what I feel?”

“You
wear your emotions on your sleeve when you think no one is watching. You should
get better at that,
ragazza
. In front of a crowd, or even with your
family, the mask you wear is perfectly in place at all times. Last week at the
dinner party, no one would have guessed you were unhappy and angry about
everything that was happening around you. But when you’re alone …”

“It’s
obvious,” she said.

Calisto
shrugged. “You should know by now that you’ll never truly be alone once you
take Affonso’s last name, Emmy. Someone will always be close behind. Someone
else will be watching. He’ll have different ways of making sure you’re
behaving, interacting with the right people, and keeping up the image that he
wants you to maintain. Better you start acting now like you’re never alone then
to fuck up later and have to answer for something he considers you’ve done
wrong.”