Emilia: Part 2 (Trassato Crime Family Book 4) Page 11

  “As of a couple of months ago, you are my business. Do I need to remind you what we have ridin’ on this deal?”

  “Abasta! I don’t take orders from you or anyone else. You challenge or question me again and I’ll personally rip your tongue out,” I shot back, my entire body vibrating with fury.

  “No. No, Marcello.” His voice quivered. What a backstabbing pussy. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I just want to make sure we still have a deal.”

  I kicked a rock through the tumbleweed, frustrated I had to deal with this right now on top of everything else. If I knew what I know now, I would have let everyone kill each other and see where the chips fell. “I don’t know, Rossi. I’m having second thoughts. I heard some stuff I don’t like.”

  “Like what? We haven’t done anything.”

  “I want to believe you’re a stand-up guy, but things don’t look right.”

  “I don’t know what you’re gettin’ at. I would never screw you over, boss.”

  “Hm.” I let him hang. While I didn’t have concrete evidence, I trusted Johnny with my life. He’d never steered me wrong, and the Rossis were dirty. I could feel it. “It’s not only the business stuff. Didn’t I tell you how I’m not big on used merchandise? Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think we even shook on it. And a little birdie’s been whispering in my ear that there’s been a lot of playin’ goin’ on while I’ve been out of town.”

  He sucked in a quick breath, which told me everything I needed to know. He wasn’t in the dark, and my mole wasn’t exaggerating. I smiled. I’d found two outs, and he knew it.

  “Yeah, well, I don’t know what you’ve heard. Let’s talk when you get back, though. I’m sure we can smooth things over.” He paused, and I could hear his fingers drumming on his desk. “Sabrina sends her love.”

  I chuckled. “Right. I bet she does. You know, I don’t think this can wait. I need you to come to New York. Call Johnny to set up the details.”

  A branch cracked behind me, and I spun around, my hand on the gun tucked into my waistband. Even out here in the middle of nowhere, I couldn’t be too careful. I had too many enemies, and I managed to rack up another when I beat the shit out of Sal and had Johnny ship him back to New York.

  Fucking bastard. I still didn’t think I did the right thing by setting him free. I should have buried him out in the pasture where the cows could shit on him every day.

  Luckily it was Emilia. “What are you doin’ out here?”

  She paused, eyeing the gun, and I lowered it. “Um, I made some lunch. I thought we could eat before Gavin’s brother gets here.”

  “So you finally got a hold of him?”

  “Yep. Though I’m not sure he’ll agree to do anything for me.”

  I wrapped my arm around her shoulder and pulled her into my side, feeling all was right again. When I found out I had to marry Emilia, I resented her. That changed the minute I saw her cowering outside her dad’s study at the age of thirteen. All of the good memories I had of summers with my sister and Emilia came roaring back. Right then, I knew we’d be able to make it work. Not because she had the cutest little pixie face or the prettiest eyes framed with insanely long eyelashes, but because I had this gut deep feeling that she was it for me. The one. And I always trusted my instincts.

  When she asked me who I was that day, I responded with the truth: her future.

  After so many twists in the road, I was going to make damn sure it finally happened. Fuck all the noise. Emilia and I would end up together no matter what I had to do, even if that meant ending the Rossis. They’d been a thorn in the Masciantonios’ side for too long. For now, though, I’d put them on ice until I figured out how to unwind the whole thing with minimal backlash.

  She frowned, pausing mid-step. “Is everything okay?”

  “It will be.”

  “Did something happen back in Chicago? I’m sure it’s hard for you being away from there for so long. You know I don’t mind if you go back to Chicago while I talk to my dad. I can follow you in a couple of weeks.”

  Emilia and I agreed to go to New York to settle things with Dominick, planning to head to Chicago a couple of days later. It probably made sense for us to split up so I could deal with the Rossis before Emilia showed up, but I didn’t want to let her out of my sight now that we were finally on the same page.

  “Nah, just business stuff. I have it handled.”

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-TWO

  Emilia

  The doorbell rang, and my hands shook. Brandon was here. As much as I hated the thought of arguing with him again, I needed someone to look after the ranch because I had no clue when or if I’d be back. While there were people around town I could hire to manage the place, I couldn’t wrap my head around the idea of a stranger inhabiting these walls.

  This place had been my salvation. Gavin and his mom embraced me as family when they hired me. It was hard to believe I owned this place now. It didn’t seem right. I hadn’t earned it. Gavin had offered me a temporary reprieve while I figured my life out. Now, by a strange twist of fate, I owned it all. I wanted to rectify that and offer Brandon an olive branch by giving him the opportunity to show me he was responsible enough to take care of the place. If it worked out, I’d find a way to gift it back to him.

  Still, I was scared. Brandon hadn’t been nice to me. Ever. The animosity only increased after his brother’s death, and he wouldn’t look me in the eye at the funeral. I might as well have been invisible. Sadly, he didn’t have any qualms spewing hate at me. I begged him to take care of the ranch when Sal forced me to go back to New York, and the condition of the place when I returned spoke volumes. He did the bare minimum. I was hoping my offer would change his attitude.

  The doorbell rang a second time, and Marcello squeezed my shoulders to get my attention. “I can take care of this for you. You don’t need to face him if it makes you uncomfortable.”

  To say Brandon was a colossal asshole on the phone last night was an understatement. I called him at least eight times before he finally answered, and when I told him I wanted to talk to him about the future of the ranch, he basically told me to go fuck myself and hung up.

  After a string of texts that consisted of me pleading with him for twenty minutes of his time, he finally agreed to show up this morning before Marcello and I left for New York.

  “No. This is my problem. I need to handle this on my own. I can’t hide from him or the police. I need to see this through.”

  Marcello’s jaw clenched. “I don’t like this. I don’t like any of it. I don’t trust him.”

  I had told Marcello about Brandon’s history and explained how I ended up with the ranch rather than him. None of the information painted Brandon in a favorable light, yet I was determined to give him a second chance. Maybe I was stupid or maybe I felt charitable since Marcello and I were getting a do over.

  The doorbell rang again. I took a deep breath and opened the door.

  Brandon stood on the bottom step as if he didn’t want to get too close to me.

  I paused awkwardly, wanting to gauge his mood. “Hi. Do you want to come inside?”

  He glanced over my shoulder. I didn’t have to turn around to realize Marcello was right behind me.

  Brandon ruffled his fingers through his shaggy blond hair. With the sunlight blaring behind him and his faded jeans and tight t-shirt, he looked like Gavin’s long-lost twin. A vise tightened around my chest. I never saw the similarities until now. Their personalities were so opposite I always focused in on that rather than their physical resemblance.

  “No. I’d prefer to do this outside. I can’t breathe when I’m in that place.”

  “Okay.” I glanced at Marcello over my shoulder, pleading with him to give us some privacy, and shut the door behind me. “Um…” I hesitated, unsure what to say. “Thanks for coming today. I know we haven’t always gotten along, but I wanted to thank you for taking care of the ranch when—”

  “Cut to the chase, Em
ilia. I’m not in the mood to play nice. Just say what you need to say so I can get the hell away from here. I can hardly stand looking at you after what you did to Gavin.”

  I reeled backward like I’d been slapped. “I didn’t kill Gavin. I wouldn’t have done that to him.”

  “No shit. We both know you never cared enough about him to bother.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? I loved your brother. He was my friend, or at least I thought he was. Now,” I shrugged, “I’m not sure what to think.”

  He barked out a bitter laugh. “You know, fuck you, Emilia. You used my brother. You didn’t love him, not like he loved you. He turned himself inside out to get you to notice him. He included you in his life, his friendships. He fuckin’ begged my mom to give you half of the ranch so you’d feel like you had a home no matter what happened. And you know what? For a long time, he didn’t give a shit that you didn’t love him back. He believed that he loved you enough to make it work and eventually you’d realize you loved him too.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Gavin and I tried.” I shook off the remorse building inside of me. “It just didn’t work. We were better as friends. And what do you know anyway? You stopped coming around. You and Gavin rarely talked.”

  He angled his square chin to the side. “We talked every day, but I couldn’t come here anymore. It killed me to see what you were doin’ to him.”

  “Because you don’t care about anyone but yourself,” I spat before I could stop myself. He was painting me as the villain. I never lied. I never promised Gavin anything, and I gave him more than a few opportunities to call it quits.

  “No!” he yelled, slamming his fist into the log post at the corner of the front porch. “I stopped coming around because I couldn’t stand watching my brother sacrifice himself on the altar of Emilia, doing everything under the sun to make your life perfect while you couldn’t have cared less about making his life better. You’re a taker. You took everything from Gavin, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he died protecting you too.”

  Anger exploded inside of me. How dare he? “I don’t know what reality you were living in, but he was having a fucking affair. He planned to divorce me. He hid all of this from me. I had to find out about it from the police. That doesn’t sound like someone who loved me or even cared about me. I, on the other hand, never betrayed him. Not once.”

  “You betrayed him by never giving your marriage a chance. He gave up so much, and you made him believe you’d try when it was all a big fuckin’ lie. You rejected him within months of marrying him and turned him into a roommate.”

  Flames of humiliation crept up my cheeks. I couldn’t believe Gavin shared the intimate details of our marriage. I planted a shaky finger in the middle of his chest. “I didn’t turn him into a roommate. It was his choice.”

  “A choice. Oh, please.” He shoved my hand away from him, and I stumbled sideways. “He had more pride than to be second best to another man.”

  “What are you talking about? There wasn’t anyone else in my life. My only friends were his friends. I didn’t talk to anyone or go out without him. I was completely alienated from my former life by choice.”

  He snorted. “No man wants his wife to say another man’s name in her sleep.”

  “What? I never…” I couldn’t even finish my thought because even though it didn’t make sense, maybe he was right. My stomach burbled with unease. Why would Gavin lie about it? It would be a detail hard to admit for most men, especially someone as proud and confident as Gavin.

  Marcello opened the front door. He must have taken the time to change because he was dressed in his customary black suit. Next to the sunlit, golden-haired Brandon, he looked like the devil. Dark, ruthlessly tamed black hair. Eyes as cold as an iceberg. Legs parted in a casual yet aggressive stance. His shoulders squared and his Roman nose flaring.

  A thrill danced through me, and at that second, in some sick, depraved way that I could only blame on genes, I was proud Marcello had my back. I felt like no one could fuck with me. Not Brandon, not the police, not Gavin’s ghost, not Sal and his nebulous threats, and certainly not my father.

  “Who’s this asshole?” Brandon said, his lips curled into a sneer.

  Marcello ignored Brandon, focusing all of his attention on me. “Emilia, are you okay?”

  “Why wouldn’t she be okay?” Brandon interrupted. “She ruined my family. Isn’t it amazing how my brother took pity on a girl who had nothing except a broken-down car and a few bucks in her wallet and that same girl ended up with everything? The ranch, the money, my family’s whole world.”

  “Shut the fuck up,” Marcello growled. “You don’t know anything. Emilia asked you here because she wanted to give you this place. And what do you do? Instead of giving her an opportunity to talk, you throw insults at her.”

  Brandon’s eyes narrowed, and he took a few steps back like he couldn’t believe it or he thought this was some kind of trap. “Right. What’s the catch?”

  Marcello shrugged, propping his shoulder against the doorframe. “Why don’t you shut the fuck up and talk to her about it?”

  I blew out a ragged breath. As much as I appreciated Marcello’s support and presence, having him negotiate how this would work felt wrong. I got myself into this situation. I missed the signs that Gavin wanted out. I agreed to marry him when I was still hurting. Figuring this out and making things right, or at least as right as they could be, was the least I could do.

  “Do you want to come in for coffee so we can discuss what needs to happen?”

  “No.” He glanced over his shoulder, looking for something. “I don’t have time now. I’ve got to get to work. I’m gonna be late as it is.”

  “Well, I’m leaving today, and I don’t know when I’ll be back. Maybe you could call in and—”

  “I can’t. Look, I’ll make sure the ranch runs smoothly while you’re gone or as long as you need me to, but it’s probably better if we communicate by email. Both of our emotions are running high right now.” He inched backward like he couldn’t get away from me fast enough.

  “Wait. Do you even want the ranch?”

  “Of course I want it. The ranch is the only thing left of my family. I don’t want it sold off to the highest bidder and subdivided into lots.”

  “All right. I’ll send you some ideas in the next week.”

  Brandon opened the door to his old beat-up truck. “Would you mind if I looked around in the barn and the garage?”

  “No. Why?”

  “Brandon had a tool set of my dad’s. Most of the stuff is old and rusted, but I’d like to have it.”

  “Sure. Take whatever you want. It’s more yours than mine anyway.” I cleared my throat, feeling choked up. I didn’t want Brandon to hate me. I didn’t want him to see me as the person who ruined his family.

  “Thanks. When are you leaving?”

  I glanced back at Marcello. “An hour or so.”

  “I’ll be gone before then.”

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-THREE

  “You ready to get out of here?” Marcello picked up my suitcase from the floor of the entryway.

  “I’ll meet you in the car in ten minutes. I want to look around for a few minutes.”

  He nodded and closed the door behind him. I couldn’t explain the sadness swirling inside of me except that something deep in my bones told me I’d never be back. This was the end of an era. I had so many fond memories of living here. It was the first time I felt like I had a home since my mother killed herself. My life here was so entirely different from everything I experienced in New York.

  Owning and living on a ranch with Gavin was a 365 day a year commitment. No matter the weather, holidays, or any other plans we may have had, Gavin had to take care of cattle before we could think about doing anything else. And there was always work to be done—maintaining the fences, relocating herds from one pasture to another, checking the health of the animals, feeding them, irrigating the
hay fields, repairing the equipment, and then there was the business side of things.

  I ran my hand along the long farm table in the kitchen, remembering the celebratory dinners we had here with the staff at the end of calving season. It was one of the few times a year I embraced my heritage and cooked an Italian feast. The first time I did it, I was so nervous because I hadn’t done much cooking at home. Thank God for the afternoons Carmela’s mom forced me into the kitchen to cook; otherwise I would have been lost.

  It was almost surreal to think I might never step foot in this place again. This afternoon, I couldn’t bring myself to pack away all of my personal things and the few mementos of my life with Gavin. Something inside of me hated the idea of disturbing anything else that rightfully belonged to Gavin’s family. This was their story, not mine, and I had to find some way to return it all to the last surviving member of their family.

  I made my way to the front door and hesitated when the picture of Gavin on our wedding day caught my attention. We looked so happy. Our life seemed so promising. The two of us were smiling, the sides of our faces pressed together in front of the local courthouse. Gavin had taken it on his phone on our way out the door.

  We didn’t have a traditional wedding or even traditional feelings for each other at that point. Yet Gavin laughingly demanded we memorialize the moment for our kids if we ever had any. I thought he was kidding at the time, but if Brandon was telling the truth, I probably misread Gavin’s comment liked I misread so many interactions with him.

  I couldn’t keep going over this in my head. Brandon could shout accusations at me all he wanted, but neither of us would ever know the whole truth. Gavin died, and his reasons for marrying me, having an affair, and keeping my inheritance from me had died with him. I had to make peace with that and let it go. Wishing, hoping, and wanting wouldn’t change the past.

  On a heart heavy sigh, I scooped up the 5x7 photo, dumped it into my purse, and headed out the front door, locking it behind me. I stalled for a second, not sure if I should keep the key or tuck it under the doormat. I stuffed it in my pocket. I could throw it away later if Brandon decided to take over the ranch permanently.