Promised: A Mafia Arranged Marriage Romance, page 12
“I didn’t pack either of those,” I tell him. “To be honest, I didn’t think that I’d be sticking around somewhere cold for very long, and I packed light so that I could move quickly and easily.”
“You thought it out,” he says as he plates up pancakes, eggs, and bacon. I sniff the plate when he sets it in front of me, my stomach rumbling hard. “What were you going to do when you were free from me? Get a job?”
I nod, stuffing some bacon in my mouth. “Yeah, I figured that I could wait tables or something.”
“Marrying me would mean that you had access to a fortune,” he comments, sitting down next to me to eat. “And you’d rather give that all up so that you had to work waiting tables just so you didn’t have to marry me?”
“It’s not personal,” I tell him. “I never wanted to be married.”
He’s silent for a moment and I hate that I’m not able to read him. My father did his best to keep me locked away from as many people as possible, so while I saw my tutors, I never got really good at reading people and telling what they’re thinking.
“Why do you not really believe in love?” I ask. I have no idea if he’s going to be honest with me or not, but I have to marry this man. I’ve given up fighting that just because I don’t see a way out right now, but that doesn’t mean that I have to go blindly into a marriage with him.
I want to know who he is. I feel like I deserve that.
“I don’t believe in love because it doesn’t exist,” he says simply. “Time and time again I see people willing to hurt the person that they say they love just for their own gain. Love is just a way to keep people close to you until you need to use them.”
“That’s terrible,” I tell him. “You can’t honestly believe that, Xavier.”
He turns to look at me, his eyes locking on mine and making me shiver. There’s something about the dark expression on his face that makes me a little nervous, but I manage to hold his gaze.
“You’re not the only one with fucked up parents, Janele,” he tells me. “My dad was more than happy to turn my mother over to our enemies when they were going to leverage her against him.”
“What?” The word feels stuck in my throat. Even though I don’t know the details of what he’s talking about, I’m horrified. “What do you mean?”
Xavier sighs and runs his hand through his hair. There’s a look on his face like he’s not sure if he’s going to tell me everything or not, but then he pushes forward, the words spilling from his lips like water from a broken dam. I wonder how long he’s been waiting to tell someone all of this and just hasn’t had the chance before now.
“My mother was amazing,” he says. “But when I was in high school, there was some drama with another family, the Lombard family.”
“I don’t know them,” I tell him, and he shakes his head.
“You wouldn’t. As soon as I took control over the family I had them all killed. We hunted down every single member of the family and killed them all for what they did to my mother.”
“What happened?” I’m horrified but I can’t tear my eyes from Xavier’s face. I want to know what makes him tick. I need to know who wounded him so badly that he doesn’t think he’s worthy of love or that love even exists.
“They threatened my father with some information that he was trying to keep secret,” he says. “He embezzled a ton of money, had police in his pocket, and was running more drugs than any other family in the area. That wasn’t the problem, though, although that wouldn’t have made him very sympathetic to a jury. He also tortured and killed the governor’s wife and kids as a personal favor to someone.”
My stomach twists and I push my food away from me. There’s no way that I can eat while Xavier tells me all of this.
“So the Lombard family found out and told my father to give them my mother. They said that they’d keep her safe. Protect her. She’d live with them as a guarantee that nobody would ever find out about what my father did. But they killed her.”
“What? Why?”
Xavier shrugs. “Does it matter? My father swore that he loved her and would do anything possible to protect her, but when push came to shove, he gave her over to our enemies and sat back while they murdered her, then he didn’t do anything to retaliate. I had to. I waited, biding my time, and then I killed them all. Scorched earth.”
I’m horrified. It feels like all of my breath has left my body but Xavier isn’t finished.
“Love isn’t real, Janele. Now, tell me, do you want me to bring in a guard to watch you today or would you rather go back to your basement? I have things to do and can’t babysit.”
“A guard,” I whisper. I can’t handle being locked back up in that tiny windowless room. At least, with a guard, I’ll still be able to look out the windows and feel the sun through them.
Xavier nods once and pulls his phone from his pocket, tapping rapidly on it before clearing the dishes. “I’ll be gone all day,” he says, turning from me.
I watch him as he picks up the kitchen, knowing full well that I should be horrified at what he just told me. His family is all kinds of fucked up.
But then again, isn’t mine? Didn’t both of our fathers give up someone that they claimed they loved just to better the family? Xavier is a bad guy, I have no doubt about that, but maybe it’s not all his fault.
He’s a victim of how he was raised, just like I am. Neither of us were able to choose our fathers and now we both have huge scars from them. If I had the chance to try to reconcile with my father, knowing what I do now, I don’t think that I’d take it.
I don’t think that Xavier would take the chance, either.
I thought that the two of us were so different but there’s so much more to him than I originally thought. Maybe we’re more alike than we realized.
Except for one thing — I still believe in love. Xavier’s lived twice as long as me and has no illusions that love exists, but I still do, and I don’t want him to take that from me.
I’m not sure if I can change his mind about love, but I’m also not sure that I have a choice.
As fucked up as he is, as terrifying as he is…I think I have to try.
Xavier
Even though Timothy would be more than happy to meet me today to talk to my uncle, I don’t want there to be anyone else with me. I also don’t want to give Benito a heads-up that I’m coming, but he’s always been predictable.
Every single morning he goes out for coffee and a bagel at Joey’s. He sits in the far corner booth by himself, taking up the space that a family of five could use, and nurses his coffee while reading the paper.
When he’s done, he leaves a mediocre tip. The tip isn’t the reason why the staff at Joey’s doesn’t ever try to kick him out or move him to a smaller table even during a rush. They only leave him alone because of his last name and because he makes sure that the grip of his gun is visible when paying.
In short, Benito is an asshole.
I’ve known that he was an asshole for a long damn time but never really realized just how bad he was. Now, though, I know.
He’s willing to set things in motion to have me killed so that he can take over the family. If that’s not some drama worthy of a Shakespeare play, then I don’t know what is.
The other thing about Benito is that he honestly believes he’s untouchable. He’s never in a hurry, never looks over his shoulder. While most people in the family prefer to go out to eat with someone else to help watch for problems, Benito is cocky.
I don’t think that it’s ever crossed his mind that someone would have the balls to approach him in Joey’s, and that’s confirmed by the look of shock and surprise that flits across his face for a moment when I slip into the booth across from him.
I only see it there for a second, then he straightens his face into the same mask that he’s worn for years and takes a sip of his coffee before speaking to me.
“Nephew. To what do I owe this pleasure this morning? I figured that you’d be tired from your meeting with the Dicaso family last night.”
I grin at him. Since I didn’t order anything when I first walked in, a waitress scurries over to take my order, but I wave her away. I don’t plan on being here with him long enough to enjoy a meal, and the breakfast I shared with Janele filled me up.
“Plans change,” I tell him. It’s important that I play my cards right, because the last thing that I want is for him to know that I’m on to him. I’m here to feel him out and figure out exactly what he knows but I don’t want him to be able to do the same to me.
“They came up with the money,” he says. “So you know that you can’t back out of the deal.”
I nod like it’s something that I’m really considering when actually they’d have to pry Janele out from under my cold, dead body if they ever wanted to take her. “It just wasn’t the right time last night,” I say. “Don’t worry, I’m a man of my word. That’s how my father raised me.”
My tone is light but I still see the way he stiffens a little bit. Benito hates being reminded of my father and the fact that I’m the head of the Colombo family, not him.
“Is there anything I can help you with or did you just come by to interrupt my breakfast?” Benito takes a bite of his bagel, showing me his teeth for a moment before they sink into the soft cream cheese covering the top.
For a moment, I’m torn. Getting into a discussion with my uncle right here in the middle of a busy restaurant isn’t a good idea, but he turned me over. He’s not really my uncle, not when he’s so willing to play with my life and ruin me so that he can have power.
Without thinking about what I’m doing, I lean forward, resting my elbows on the table to get closer to him. He follows suit, obviously thinking that there’s something important that I want to tell him.
The table is huge but we’re both almost coming off our seats, so there’s only about a foot of space between us. I can smell the coffee on his breath.
“I know that you are working with the Dicaso family,” I say. He twitches and I see how he rests his hand lightly on his gun. He may want to shoot me right now, but he won’t do it here.
Not when someone innocent may get hurt. Not if he’s hoping to be the head of the family.
“You can fuck off straight to hell,” I tell him. “They’re not getting Janele and you’ll never be the leader of the family. Nobody respects you, uncle. Nobody thinks that you’d do a good job.” It feels really fucking good to say these words to him.
Even though I’m looking right at him and taking in the lines on his forehead, the way his mouth is pressed into a firm line, and how I can see his Adam’s apple jump when he swallows, he’s not what I’m really seeing.
Janele is the only thing that I can focus on right now. She’s the reason that I’m doing this. I never thought that I could care for someone, but there’s something about her that’s drawn me in.
I don’t trust myself enough to try to explore those feelings, not when I’ve already told her what I think about love. But there’s something there.
Just not love. I’m sure of it.
“You’re a pretentious little shit,” my uncle hisses. His eyes are dark and they dart around my head for a moment before landing back on my face. “You never should have been given the crown. Imagine how powerful the family could be if you weren’t such a fucking pussy.”
The sound of the restaurant behind me washes over our table, reminding us both that we’re in a public location. That’s only going to keep him from shooting me. It’s not going to keep either of us from saying what needs to be said.
“You always hated him,” I say. “My father. You hated him for being older and you hate me for being a great leader.”
Benito scoffs. “You’re a shit leader. Think about all of the power you’re leaving on the table. The fact that you’re even working with other families is ridiculous. Crush them. Rule them. Take what belongs to ours and leave nothing for anyone else.” He slams his fist down on the table, making his coffee slosh over the side of the mug.
Neither of us move to clean it up.
“You’re working with the Dicaso family,” I remind him. “But you’re willing to crush them?”
He scoffs. “A means to an end. Just like you, just like that little piece of pussy you’re protecting. Give her up, Xavier, give up the family, and I may let you live.”
He wouldn’t. There isn’t anything kind or human left in my uncle. Instead of answering, I push back from the table and plant my hands on it to stand up. “You’re going to have to answer for this,” I tell him.
“Watch your back.” His voice is light and airy like he’s telling me that ice cream is on sale at the store, then he leans back and picks up his coffee mug, wiping the ring from the table with a napkin and taking a sip.
“And watch that little slit of yours, too,” he calls after me as I walk to the door.
I feel myself start to pause to turn around and stalk back him. The entire restaurant heard him and has frozen in place.
It would feel so fucking good to go punch him in his smug face.
See it crumple under my fist.
I could take him in a fair fight, I have no doubt about that. The problem with Benito is that it wouldn’t be a fair fight. He’s still in the corner booth waiting on me but I know that he has one hand on his gun, the other on a knife he keeps in the breast pocket of his jacket.
He wouldn’t fight fair and I might actually end up getting hurt.
With his words ringing in my ears I push the door open and step outside. The cool morning air is just as bracing as it was back at the house and I wonder for a moment what Janele is doing.
As much as I’d like to go see her, I need to take care of a few other things. First on my list of people to call is Timothy, and he picks up as I walk to my car.
Janele
My guard sits in the corner of the living room like a statue. I swear, he’s just as wide as he is tall, bound with muscles and tattoos, and wears a scowl so permanent that it looks etched into his skin.
He has no neck and sits there staring at me like a potato that doesn’t move. His eyes follow me, though, like a creepy painting in an abandoned house, and I do my best to try to pretend that he’s not there.
Xavier left me here in his home but I don’t think that I should be poking around and digging through his stuff. As much as I’d love to find something that clued me in more into what makes him tick — like a journal or letters — I have a feeling that someone as closed-off as he is isn’t very likely to be writing down his thoughts and feelings.
After digging through his bookshelf and not finding anything that struck my fancy, I wander back into the kitchen. Xavier obviously loves to cook and has all top-of-the-line appliances, his pantry and refrigerator are stuffed with ingredients, and his oven looks like it’s cleaned after every single use.
I wrinkle my nose, hoping that he’s not going to expect me to clean it every time I cook or bake, then I realize what I just thought and I stop in my tracks, one hand on the kitchen counter.
For a moment there, I was thinking about what it would be like to be his wife, and that’s just simply not something that’s going to happen. I may look calm to my guard, but as I walk around, I’m looking for a way out.
A window that doesn’t latch completely, or something that I can use to cover the cameras so I can escape without being seen. There’s no way that I’m just going to give myself over to this life.
Rubbing my eyes and sighing, I look around the kitchen one more time. I could curl up and read or watch TV, but I’m suddenly craving cookies. Without stopping to think about what I’m doing, I pull a thin notebook from the cupboard and flip it open, hoping to find that it’s a cookbook.
It’s all handwritten and I pause for a moment, excited that I may have found something that will give me a clue as to what makes Xavier tick, but it’s just recipes.
He’s written them all down, all dated, all of them with notes on how the recipe turned out. I flip past one for chicken piccata with extra capers rated a 10/10 to one for beef short ribs that’s been all scratched out and reworked. The original rating of 3/10 ended up 8.5/10 when he was finished.
Who the hell has this much time and is willing to put so much effort into improving a recipe? Without thinking about what I’m doing, I pull out a seat at the bar and sit down, putting the cookbook in front of me.
Desserts are at the back and I quickly find chocolate chip cookies that he’s rated 10/10, but I keep flipping. I’ll come back to them, but I want to see what else he has for me to choose from.
On the back of the chocolate chip cookie recipe, though, I pause. The page is filled with his writing, but it’s not another recipe. It looks, for lack of a better word, like a journal.
“No,” I whisper, running my fingers down the page. “It can’t be.”
I read quickly, afraid that my guard is going to wonder what I’m up to and come interrupt me. I don’t want him to know what I’ve found so I hunch over it a little to guard it from his view.
It’s not a journal as much as it is his thoughts on the recipe and when he last made them. They were his favorite growing up and his mother always made them for him. When she died, he made them for the funeral.
And then never again.
I sniffle, not even realizing that I’m about to cry.
If I close my eyes I can almost picture a young Xavier standing at the kitchen counter helping stir the dough. It’s a little fuzzy, but I can almost see him dropping the dough onto the baking sheet with his mom.
Of course, I have no idea what he looked like as a little kid or what his mother looked like, but that doesn’t stop me from imagining it. It doesn’t stop me from replacing him and his mom with me and mine.
Before my mom got sick, she and I would bake in the kitchen all the time. Chocolate chocolate chip cookies were her favorite, and I know that I could easily change this recipe a bit to make it more like the cookies from my childhood, but I don’t want to.
