Eagle Elite Volume II, page 67
So I focused on pieces.
I focused on cracks in the pavement.
The dust of a few scattered rocks the cement at my heel.
It was the same way I looked at Val. My efforts, so far, had been working, ignore her body and face as a whole, but hands? Yeah, I could stare at her hands, she had three scars on her pointer finger, I assumed it was from thorns in the roses she often arranged.
She had a dimple in her right cheek that, on first glance, looked like another scar, but really was just a really deep indent that made her appear even more innocent than she was.
Her hair was dark brown.
But, when she tilted her head at different angles, shots of gold shimmered.
She was short.
Not as short as Andi, but short enough that I knew my presence would be extremely intimidating to her.
Pieces.
I looked at pieces.
Never her smile, only her teeth.
Eyes were fine, as long as she didn’t lock gazes with me too long and, really, I was confident that even if she touched me for a prolonged period of time, I’d be okay.
It wasn’t that she wasn’t striking—she was Luca’s blood through and through, she had his ghost eyes, so light that they almost seemed white at times, and she had Joyce’s smile.
I’d bet it killed Frank.
And that’s when it killed me—this wasn’t just his niece, this was his wife’s daughter.
Damn me.
I’d been outside having a near nervous breakdown over the fact that I had to marry the girl—a mere eight weeks after my wife’s death, mind you—and Frank had just met his wife’s son and daughter.
His brother’s children.
The last thing he needed was my emotional baggage to go along with it. I kicked the wall one last time and was just about to turn the corner when I saw Frank and Val on the porch of the brownstone.
I held back.
They sat down in the cold, Frank on the top stair, Val, too, but as far away from him as possible, nearly underneath the railing, her arms wrapped around the post as if it was enough to protect her from a man like him.
“You’re upset,” Frank said in a bland tone.
I rolled my eyes. No shit she was upset, old man! She’d just been told that her family was mafia royalty, what normal, innocent girl wouldn’t be upset when you exchanged their iPhone for a gun and told them to make sure they always sit in booths when going out to eat?
Once you knew your own blood, it was impossible to go back.
The chilling knowledge of her heritage alone would make sure of that. She’d always watch her back from here on out, never stand in line at Starbucks, and, when she walked home at night, she would always think she was being followed.
Mafia breeds paranoia.
As well as insanity.
They go hand in hand, but they also keep you alive.
“I’m in shock,” she finally said, her eyes meeting his. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and ducked her head, staring down at her shoes. “My whole life is a lie.”
Dramatic, but true.
I frowned as she chewed on her lower lip, sucking it into her mouth only to release it.
A strange mixture of anger and lust jolted through me like lightning.
The wrongness of the emotion started a cold sweat as I continued to eavesdrop.
“We thought it best to protect you. Luca was a very dangerous man. He was also convinced you could never live a normal life if you lived under his roof. He knew something must be done. You were raised until the age of five in Italy. I’m sure you remember fragments.” He sighed, his breath swirled around his head. “There were two death threats against you and Dante… I’ll never forget the night my brother called me to say he needed to put you both in hiding. The only people I could think of…” He glanced back at the house. “Were also, at the time, not my biggest fans.”
“At the time?” She joked.
“Yeah well…” Frank chuckled. “Blood is blood. They had no choice, and they adopted you as if you were their own.” He angled his head and studied her. “You have been happy, no?”
After a few seconds, she nodded.
“And you’ve been well taken care of?”
Another curt nod.
“Believe me when I say, the last thing I want to do is ruin your future, but it was your father’s dying wish that you not only know him, but that you join the Family. By joining through marriage you are automatically—”
Val covered her mouth with her hand and laughed.
Frank frowned.
I stared harder. Had she just laughed? At Frank Alfero?
“I’m so sorry!” Val laughed harder. “I laugh when I’m nervous. I just… it’s kind of funny right? I read, Frank. That’s what I do.”
“I don’t think I understand.”
“My excitement in life.” She smiled again to herself. “Was reading, mainly historical romance. Women had no power in Regency England. They couldn’t even own property. Did you know that once they were married both the church and crown only recognized them as property of whomever had wed them?”
Frank shook his head.
“Marriages were formed based on wealth, power, protection, prestige.” A wry smile curved her lips. “Are you telling me the same thing, Frank? Am I supposed to marry Sergio for all of those reasons? Or is there more?”
Frank shifted on the step.
I waited to see what he would say. Because there was so much more to that story—to the real reason we were here, to why it was imperative that they join the ranks.
“Sergio doesn’t need you, not emotionally, not financially, not physically.”
She jerked back as if she’d been punched but kept her mouth shut.
“He has more money than he knows what to do with, used to work for the FBI, is an expert hacker, and now that his wife is dead…” He shook his head. “…he honors her memory by staring at walls.”
Thanks, Frank. Glowing review.
“The last time I saw him laugh it was forced, and I fear I have already lost him. Then again, nobody ever had Sergio—nobody but his wife, because even before her, there was an emotional detachment in his killings and dealings. He is not a safe man, nor a sane one, Val.”
I curled my hands into fists. What the hell!
“But,” continued Frank, his gaze growing intense, “he will protect you with his life—and more importantly, he will protect you with his name. For someone to make a murder attempt on an Abandonato is to invite the Capo and the rest of the Five Families to wipe out that person’s entire existence, and not just the person foolish enough to try… but the rest of the blood line, and the best part?” He paused. “Our Capo, he thirsts for blood. He’s like a lion, barely tamed by his wife, only able to stay trapped inside the four walls of his house for hours if she keeps him…” He coughed. “Occupied.”
She stared at him for a long moment. “What’s a Capo?”
Frank chuckled to himself. “I forget you know nothing.” He leaned back against the stairs. “I guess in your world that would be like our Godfather, though it pains me to say it, considering Tex is only twenty-five, hardly my elder.”
“Twenty-five?” Val repeated. “How old is everyone else?”
“I’m the oldest.” Frank’s voice was grave. “The last.”
“The last?”
His posture stiffened. “Of the Original bosses.” He turned to her. “And so help me God, I will leave this earth seeing my promises made to my dead brother, do you understand? Run away, I will find you. Fight it, you will lose. Listen carefully, because this is the only situation where my love for your father trumps my love for you—because I owe him, more than you’ll ever imagine—you will marry Sergio, you will join the Family. You will do it with a smile on your face because you are a Nicolasi, you are our future, and you will make your father proud.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Hell is empty and all the devils are here.—A Midsummer Night’s Dream
Frank
I was being too direct. Too cold.
I didn’t know how else to be.
Trace would be disappointed in me—but I could not find it in myself to do anything more—or to offer Val an escape, away from the promises made.
Promises owed.
Blood promises, that’s what those papers in my folder held. After all, Sergio wasn’t the only one with a list, checking off tiny little boxes, exhaling in relief each time he did so.
I too had my boxes.
My list.
My bag of tricks.
I would not stand by again and watch The Alferos fall.
There is a certain finality, a harsh realization when you age, when your reflection in the mirror starts to truly appear the same way you feel in your chest.
Legacies are like the wind, you may not see them, but they are there, constantly altering the course of the weather.
Joyce had always said that I was a cold bastard when I wanted to be, and she was right. I was.
But it was time—my time.
A man feels these things in his bones. Hell, I even felt it in the air as I left Val alone on the stairs and made my way back into the house, my footsteps announcing my arrival into the kitchen.
“She will marry two days from now,” I announced. “But first, mass tomorrow.”
Gio’s eyes locked on mine. “Why do you do this, Frank?”
“It is what he wanted.”
“She would have been safer not knowing,” Papi chimed in. “We can keep her safe.”
Time for the cold heartless bastard.
“Gentleman.” I pressed my hands against the table and leaned over it. “Our time, it is coming to an end.”
Silence.
“A new generation is here.”
“We have heard rumors,” Gio whispered. “Rumors of the wars between Families…”
“Vito Campisi was shot by his own son in the chest.” I sighed. “Nixon Abandonato has been boss in Chicago for three years now. Chase, his brother, helps Mil De Lange run the De Lange Family, and the Nicolasis?”
“Phoenix De Lange,” Sal said in reverence. “A man of many secrets.”
“A man you don’t want to piss off,” I said. “My point is this… it is in the wind, it is no longer our time, and we can no longer sit idly by.” I glared at all three of them. “Sit on our own secrets, and refuse to help the new members as they rise up and take control of the Families. We have the heritage of our Families to think about. Do not fight me on this or you will have a very unfortunate accident that the coroner will no doubt excuse as old age, capiche?”
“Capiche?” Sal coughed while Gio and Papi muttered and crossed their arms.
“Now…” I sat and exhaled. “Where is the wine?”
Papi chuckled. “It is ten in the morning.”
I simply stared.
Gio nodded. “I forget this about you, Frank. Real men drink at ten, this is why I do not kill you.”
Sal stood, walked over to the cabinet, and pulled out a bottle. “One or two—”
“Three,” Frank interrupted. “It’s going to be a long weekend.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The lunatic, the lover, and the poet, are of imagination all compact. –A Midsummer Night’s Dream
Valentina
With shaking hands, I read the next letter.
I’ll continue the story about the prince. I know you enjoy reading. It was really the only way I figured you would get it or truly understand. Again, only one page a day, and you’ll know what to do when there are no more pages.
There was a certain wildness about the prince. He was at times cruel, turning his beauty into a beast, and yet, he had moments of such tenderness that the princess wanted to cry. Was he simply wild in need of taming? No. Do not do it. Do not tame the beast. Allow him to be wild. You do not tame a lion, but it is possible to befriend it, to lie down next to it and know with a certainty that the lion will protect you while you sleep. Let him be fierce. You need fierce in your life, Valentina. Today, is a new day, you have many challenges ahead, do not forget to enjoy the simple things—like dancing in the rain.
All my love,
R
I re-read the letter over again.
It made no sense.
Who was this mysterious R, and why was she—since I’d already decided it was a girl—writing me about this prince? I had to admit, after today, it was a much needed distraction, it was just… weird.
An authoritative knock on my door made me jump. I quickly shoved the letter under my mattress and stood. “Come in.”
Sergio swept in the room, his look thunderous.
I fought the urge to cower in his presence. He had times where he appeared so… fierce. Like the lion I’d just read about.
“Yes?”
“I wanted to set the record straight.” His voice was cold.
“Okay.” I licked my lips and braced myself for the impact of his words.
“Wait.” He frowned. “What the hell are you doing?”
I looked down. “What do you mean?”
“You’re all”—he waved his hand in front of me, irritation creasing his brow—“rigid.”
“Oh.” I nodded. “I’m preparing myself for your roar.” I laughed at my own joke. He didn’t. Eh, tough crowd.
“Roar?” He looked so confused, poor guy. “Am I suddenly an animal?”
“Well you’re manners are less than perfect, but no, I just mean, I’m ready for you to be mean, get angry, do the whole intimidating thing you typically do, and then you’ll march off without making eye contact, and I’ll spend hours trying to figure out why you were so mean. Because I’m a girl, we do that. And I’m a girl who has way too much time on my hands.” I took a breath. “So whenever you’re ready.”
He opened his mouth then closed it. “You’re kind of…quirky aren’t you?”
“Yes.” I nodded solemnly. “Almost like a princess locked in a tower… the only time I ever go to the movies is if all of my uncles and brother come. Once—once I tried to go with a guy and found them all in the back row. Naturally Gio was yelling because they didn’t serve wine at the theater.”
Sergio moved across the room and stared out the window. “Tell me more.”
He wasn’t looking at me, but he seemed more relaxed.
And stories I could do.
I lived and breathed stories.
“Well…” I sat on my bed. “I couldn’t figure out why no guys ever asked me out in high school. On the last day, someone must have finally felt like they could break their silence. Dante had threatened many lives… and you’ve seen him. He’s got serious anger issues. Was Luca like that? Our father?” It felt weird asking, but I assumed they had been close, and I was desperate for some sort of connection with the man who had left me—the man who had left both of us.
Sergio hung his head. “He was… terrifying.”
“I didn’t inherit his terror.”
Sergio’s shoulders shook. I thought he was trembling until laughter bubbled out of him.
It was beautiful.
The sound.
Just like him.
Of course it would be.
“Are you making fun of me?”
“You have a dimple.” Sergio turned and crossed his arms. “I’m sorry to be the one to break the news to you, but you’re the least terrifying person I’ve ever met.”
I stuck out my tongue.
“You just made it worse.”
I chucked a pillow at him.
He moved out of the way then slowly walked over to me and sat on the bed, careful to keep at least a foot of space between us.
“Talk time?” I asked.
He nodded. “Gotta admit, I had a really scary speech for you, it was pretty heartless, cruel, the type that makes grown men cry.”
“Lucky me.”
“I can’t do it,” he admitted in a stunned voice. “Maybe it’s the dimple.”
Heat washed over my face as I reached up and touched one of my cheeks.
“One day…” He sighed. “You’ll find someone who makes you blush just like that, someone who’s just like the guys you read about in books, you’ll find a man worth fighting for.” He shook his head slowly. ”That man… isn’t me.”
His words stung, and I had no idea why. We were strangers, but rejection is rejection.
“Please don’t try.” He swallowed and looked down at his hands. “Don’t try to get me to fall for you. Don’t try to get me to fall in love with you. No seduction, no angry tears when I don’t kiss you goodnight—I can’t… I just…” His voice trembled. “Promise me you won’t ask for something I won’t ever be able to give you.”
My body was suddenly so heavy—tired. And I’d discovered in the past few days it was possible to FEEL anger in your bones, to feel it wash over you, right along with rejection. I hated it. “You said please.”
“I’m working on my bedside manner.”
“It shows.”
He smiled.
I cleared my throat and glanced down at my hands as I twisted them in my lap. They were clammy. Then again, he made me nervous. Just being around Sergio was like jumping head first into dark water—it was terrifying, yet at the same time still refreshing. “Is it because of me?”
Sergio exhaled a curse as his body tensed next to mine. Our thighs brushed, and I shivered. “No.”
“That’s very… reassuring, please go on and on about my many attributes.” I said dryly.
He laughed again. “Are you always this sarcastic?”
“Yes.” I nodded seriously. “I’m extremely sarcastic in my head.”
“You’re fine.”
The comment stung.
“And,” he continued, licking his lips, “I’m sure you could make any man happy…”
“Is that why you never look at me?” I asked. “You’re not very convincing, because right now I feel like the Wicked Witch of the West minus the magic.”
He didn’t move, but he clenched his jaw, and the muscle twitched as if he was grinding his teeth together. Slowly, he turned toward me, his blue eyes finally locking on mine.
