Emilia: Part 2 (Trassato Crime Family Book 4) Read online

  “Yeah. I get what you’re saying, and I know I already said this, but I’m sorry.”

  “There’s nothing to be sorry for.” She stood and patted me on the shoulder. “I’ll call you in a couple of days to check in and see how things are going, but promise me one thing.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t wait too long to decide. I almost lost Kon because I kept waiting, and while my story had a happy ending, I went through a lot of crap to get there.”

  “I hear ya.” She hugged me and left me alone with my thoughts, and instead of hiding behind my piano, I actually focused on what I wanted out of my life.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  “Ah, you’re heading out. Good for you.”

  Mid-reach for the front doorknob, I whirled around like I’d been caught doing something wrong. “Lucca, I didn’t realize you were here.”

  He planted a kiss on both of my cheeks, then held both of my hands in his. “I came to talk to you, but it looks like you’re finally getting some fresh air today. Are you done avoiding the world?” He rolled his r’s, almost singing his words.

  A blush crept up my neck. “I was going to try and catch Marcello.”

  “Marcello? I thought you were over him considering he’s marrying someone else.”

  “Did he tell you that?”

  “We haven’t discussed his plans.”

  “Really?” I frowned. “I thought you two were friends or something.”

  “Not friends, no. Does Marcello know you’re coming?”

  “No.” I grimaced. “Do you think I should call first? I mean, he texted me his address two days ago saying he wanted to talk, so I figured he wouldn’t mind if I just showed up unannounced.” While Lucca was my uncle in name only, it wouldn’t hurt to have him in my life. I had lost my mother so long ago. Part of me hoped he could fill the giant hole she left in my life and give me a connection to her, one I believed was lost forever.

  “Listen, Emilia, I know we don’t know each other very well…” He sat on the bench in the entryway and patted the seat beside him. I dumped my purse on the floor and sat next to him. “…but I’d like to remedy that. My sister, your mother, cut her family out of her life, and I can’t help thinking her life would’ve had a happier ending if she had a support system.”

  I pushed back the tears threatening to make an appearance. No matter how much time passed, I still teared up when I thought of how hopeless she must have felt that day.

  “Maybe you’re right. I didn’t know her that well. I know that sounds weird.”

  “Yeah, I get it. Your mom wasn’t an open book. She held things close to her chest.”

  My phone buzzed with a text. “Sorry to run out on you, but my ride’s here.”

  “Who’s driving you?”

  “Gian.”

  “Your cousin, right?”

  “Yep.”

  He grabbed my arm before I could stand. “I came by because I wanted to talk to you about moving to Italy again. I think it would be good for you to get out of town for a while, clear your head, and connect with the other half of your family.”

  “I want to spend time with you. I really do, but I have to talk to Marcello first.”

  “What’s he got to do with anything? He’s moving on with his life, and you should too. There’ll be other men and other opportunities in Italy.”

  I tried to breathe through the pang in my chest. Things weren’t over with Marcello. He didn’t know what he was talking about. Marcello wouldn’t marry that other woman without talking to me first. At least I didn’t think he would. Then again, what did I know? I refused to talk to him for days. He might have one foot out the door by now. My panic inched up another notch. I had to see Marcello before it was too late.

  “I can even get you a spot at that conservatory again,” he continued as if he was discussing the weather instead of my future. “I know things didn’t work out last time, but I’ve got connections. You could even start in a few months.”

  My head whirled toward him. “The conservatory? What do you know about the San Luigi music conservatory?”

  They had approached me after one of my performances and offered me a scholarship before I left. My father forced me to turn them down.

  He frowned. “I asked them to watch you play all those years ago. I wanted you to follow in your mother’s footsteps. Dominick didn’t mention it to you?”

  “I thought you wanted me to marry Marcello.”

  “No. That was all your grandfather. I never liked this thing from the beginning. Your mom was stuck in a tug of war between the Trassatos and the Masciantonios, and look where that got her. I didn’t want you to suffer the same fate. I wanted you to have options. I wanted you in Italy where you belonged.”

  I softened toward him. I hadn’t spent much time or effort trying to get to know him, and yet he wanted to help me by giving me alternatives. If he’d given me this opportunity years ago, I would have taken him up on it without a second thought. Now, though, my life was different. I was in love in Marcello. I couldn’t imagine a life without him, and if he didn’t feel the same, it would kill me.

  “Thanks. That means a lot to me…” I trailed off, not sure how let him down without hurting his feelings.

  “I’m sensing a ‘but’ in there somewhere.”

  “I’m going to see where things go with Marcello first.”

  “So that’s how it’s going to be?”

  “Yeah.” I stood up and picked up my purse from the floor. “I’m not ready to give up on him yet.”

  “Have you considered what a life with Marcello would be like?” I shook my head, and he continued talking, not even looking in my direction. “I know you and your father never saw eye to eye, and your life with Marcello wouldn’t be much different. He’s the boss of his family. He won’t have a lot of time for you once you’re in Chicago. You’ll be isolated, and everyone will keep you at arm’s length because you’re an outsider. That’s not even the worst part. With all of the turmoil within the Masciantonio outfit, you’d have a bullseye on your back. Unlike in the past, you won’t be able to run if things get ugly. In Italy, you’d have free reign to do what you want and pursue your passion for playing piano or anything else. You wouldn’t have to look over your shoulder or wonder if someone tampered with your car. You’d be untouchable.”

  My chest caved. I couldn’t deny being with Marcello would be stressful and difficult at times. All of my life I’d dreamed of severing ties with the criminal underworld and escaping my golden cage, except I’d accomplished exactly that, and it wasn’t as wonderful as I thought it would be.

  I missed Marcello. I missed the smell, feel, noise of the city. I missed the fucked-up code my family lived by. I missed my cousins. I missed the crazy celebrations where everyone drank too much and laughed too loud. I missed the food. A small part of me even missed my dad. No, I didn’t want to get away anymore. My life was screwed up. Hell, by most people’s standards the people in my life were evil, but I didn’t care. It was my life, and I wanted to live it without apologies.

  “We all make sacrifices for the people we love,” I answered evasively.

  “That’s it then? There’s nothing I can say to change your mind?”

  “No.”

  “Va bene.” He smoothed his hands up and down his wool trousers, his lips pressed into a disapproving line. “It’s an open offer if you change your mind. Just don’t wait too long.”

  “Thanks, Zio.” I kissed his cheek, enjoying claiming him as my uncle for the first time. I hoped he could fill the hole my mom left when she killed herself, or at least I could learn a little more about her through him. My dad refused to talk about her. “I appreciate it. Really, I do.”

  “Buona fortuna.”

  I walked backward to the front door. “Have a safe trip back to Italy. When do you leave?”

  “As soon as I tie up some loose ends.”

  “I’ll see you before I leave then?” />
  “Sì, certo! Hey, I forgot to ask you. You’ve finalized the paperwork for your grandfather’s estate, yes? Because nothing is official until you accept everything in writing and agree to the terms. Otherwise, the contingencies kick into place.”

  I closed my hand around the door handle. “Right, my attorney mentioned something to that effect. I’ll touch base with him this week and see what needs to be done.”

  My attorney had left several voicemails wanting to discuss both the status of the investigation into Gavin’s death and the terms of the trust. I’d shut myself off from the world for too long, and I needed get my shit together so I could take care of business. Only then could I move on to the next chapter in my life. One that hopefully included Marcello.

  “Perfetto.”

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-NINE

  I paused on the front steps of my house, not sure how I wanted to play this encounter with Gian. Carmela tried to brush it all under the rug like it wasn’t a big deal. She didn’t know Gian lost his shit on me when Carmela disappeared. He said things that cut me deep. He was here, though, so that counted for something.

  “Gian,” I mumbled, sliding into the front seat of his black SUV, avoiding looking at him. I couldn’t stand it if he wanted nothing to do with me, especially now that I was short on allies and friends.

  As we pulled out of the driveway, he said, “Are you gonna look at me or do you plan to stare out the window the entire ride?”

  I eyeballed him from the corner of my eye, and instead of being greeted with a frosty stare, he was grinning. I tugged on the hem of my shirt trying to disguise my relief. “You don’t hate me?”

  “Nah.” He shrugged like he hadn’t called me a two-faced bitch. “I overreacted. Carmela’s fine. Everything worked out, and it wasn’t like you could stop my sister from doing what she wanted. You called us when she didn’t show up, and that was enough.”

  I couldn’t believe he had agreed to shuttle me around today when he probably had a million and one things to do now that he’d been promoted to underboss, or at least those were the whispers.

  “Hey, cuz, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Everything. I don’t know.” I rolled my shoulders, trying to work out my nervous energy. Showing up at Marcello’s looking like a crazy person wouldn’t be ideal. “I thought everyone hated me.”

  Gian shifted in his seat, his golden eyes spearing me. “Nobody hates you. We all have our own journey to travel. Our own fuck-ups. It would be hypocritical of me to criticize you when I haven’t always made the best decisions.”

  “Thanks,” I choked out.

  “What’s the deal with Marcello?” Gian asked after a few minutes of silence.

  I snorted. “Cut right to the chase, why don’t you.”

  “You’re my little cousin, and I don’t like that he’s hanging around you when the rumor mill says he’s marrying someone else. It’s bullshit. If he’s playing you, I’ll—”

  I patted his arm. “No need to get worked up. I can take care of this myself. And for what it’s worth, I don’t think he’s playing me, but I guess that’s why I asked my dad to have someone drive me to his place. Marcello wants to talk, and it’s time I stopped hiding behind my father.”

  “Good for you.”

  Gian pulled over in front of a glass high rise at the nexus of Midtown and the Upper East Side.

  “Wow. Kind of fancy for a second home.”

  “Yeah. It’s been in the Masciantonio family for a long time. They bought when real estate was in the toilet.”

  I cracked open the door with more than a little trepidation. I was getting cold feet now that I had to go into this building and get past the doorman.

  “Do you want me to stick around for a while?”

  “No, I’m good. I’ll call if I need a ride.”

  “Oh, and you’re on the list to go on up.”

  I frowned. “How do you know that?”

  He laughed. “This is New York, not some thimble-sized town in the mountains of Colorado. You don’t have to play by the rules here.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Marcello tipped up his head in acknowledgment when he answered the door for me rather than saying anything. No greeting. No get the hell out of here. Nothing. He left the door open and walked back inside, apparently leaving it up to me whether I stayed or went home. My stomach bottomed out.

  Please don’t give up on me yet.

  It had taken me a few days to answer Carmela’s rhetorical question: Are you a runner or a fighter? I was a fighter. That was why I was here. I wanted answers, and unlike in the past, I would demand them rather than flee suspecting the worst.

  I followed the tapping of Marcello’s leather-soled shoes down the hall of his apartment to his bedroom. Floor to ceiling windows lined the entire far wall, offering an unbelievable view of Manhattan. The place wasn’t enormous, but then again this wasn’t even his primary home, and I could only guess what a two-bedroom in this location would cost.

  His bedroom had stark white walls, white bedding, and streamlined walnut furniture. Nothing personal decorated the walls, the top of the dresser, or the nightstands. There was a rectangular painting above the bed, with splashes of black and white paint. This room could belong to anyone.

  Marcello stood at the foot of the bed, his back to me, stacking meticulously folded clothing in a suitcase.

  “Are you going somewhere?” I asked, my voice as soft as a feather.

  He didn’t bother turning around. “Home.”

  “Were you going to tell me you were leaving?”

  He paused momentarily, then said, “No,” and resumed packing.

  I rubbed the growing ache in my chest. Marcello had my heart in an iron grip since our engagement party. I knew now I’d never get it back. He owned me even if he no longer wanted anything to do with me. “Why not?”

  He whirled around, diving his hand into his hair, leaving it ruffled and standing on end. “Why am I leaving? Why the fuck do you think I’m leaving? Jesus, Emilia, it’s been days since I talked to you. You won’t pick up the phone when I call. You wouldn’t give me ten minutes to explain what was really going on. You don’t trust me. You hid from me instead of talking it out like adults.” He flung his hands into the air. “I can’t do this with you anymore. I’m done chasing you.”

  I reached out my hand to him, pleading with him to listen, not that I had a leg to stand on. He was right. When you loved someone, cared about someone, you gave him the opportunity to defend himself. For the second time in our acquaintance, I pushed him away before he could explain. I condemned him without hearing the facts, or at least his side of the story. I opened my mouth to say something, anything, and nothing came out.

  “That’s what I thought.” He turned around again and stuffed the last pile of clothes into the suitcase, slamming it shut with more force than necessary. The sound of the zipper sliced through the air, untethering the last shred of hope that we could resolve this. That I hadn’t waited too long.

  “Please,” I whispered, wringing my hands, frantically searching my mind for a way to roll back the clock or least get him to give me another chance. “I’m sorry,” I finally blurted out, because I was and that was the only place I could think to begin. “I wanted a couple of hours to think, and the longer I waited the harder it was to talk to you. I was afraid of what you had to say. I couldn’t stand the thought of you marrying someone else.” A fierce possessiveness surged inside of me. “I get it. I know I don’t deserve your love after everything I’ve done. But that doesn’t mean I won’t fight for you. For us.”

  He bowed his head, and his sigh threaded through the tension building around us. I wanted to believe this gave me an opening. That he was softening. I wrapped my arms around his waist and rested my head against his back. I smelled his spicy citrus-scented cologne, and I heard the steady drum of his heart. And like every time he came into my orbit, that impetuous bond linking us together swelled. Limitless and wil
d. Spinning a web of attraction and desire around me.

  Only that wasn’t the purpose behind my visit, and I wasn’t sure it would be reciprocated at this point, so I tamped it down, burying it for the moment so I could get the answers I came for and fight for him.

  Yes, I planned to fight for him. I didn’t know how far I’d go before I stepped foot inside his door. I thought I’d be the better person and let him go if he made promises to someone else he intended to keep. The minute he opened the door, I knew I’d been lying to myself. It may have taken me days to find my footing, but I wouldn’t let him marry anyone except me. I wouldn’t let him walk away, and that realization was liberating. I could take the gloves off and give this my all.

  “I love you, Marcello. I’ve loved you for so long I can’t remember when it started. Maybe when you confronted me outside of my dad’s study and I didn’t know who you were. Maybe it happened when we exchanged all of those silly letters or when you claimed me at our engagement party in front of everyone. All I know is that I love you. My marriage to Gavin, my stupid infatuation with Sal—none of that altered the fact that you are in my heart so deep I don’t think I’ll ever get you out. I don’t want to. You’re it for me. I want a life with you. I want everything with you.”

  His muscles tensed under my hands, and I wondered if I had ruined what we had with my confession. I didn’t regret professing my feelings, though. All my cards were on the table. Marcello could throw it back in my face and I’d be devastated, but it wouldn’t be as bad as not telling him the truth.

  He spun around, his eyes flashing with so much emotion my breathing stalled for a beat. His face scrunched up like he was combating the desire to strip me naked or throw me out.

  “Do you mean it?” he barked, the muscles in his jaw jumping, his nostrils flaring, and his eyes narrowing with what looked like malice. “Or is this another game, Emilia?”