Emilia: Part 2 (Trassato Crime Family Book 4) Page 9

  My mind scrambled for a way to defuse the situation. When I opened my mouth, only a reedy sob had the courage to surface. It echoed in the room like a gun blast. My reaction was as good as a confession.

  Sal charged forward, ready to strike. Dark laughter burst from Marcello, and I knew he got the reaction he wanted. He didn’t wait for Sal to swing at him. He surged forward. They met in a clash of muscle and anger, limbs and fists tangled, punctuated by grunts and thuds. Sal’s gun skidded across the floor.

  I jumped into the fray, hoping to stop the inevitable. My one-minute hesitation was enough to make my presence irrelevant. They were already in the zone, primed to do as much damage as possible.

  “Stop! Stop!” I tugged on the back of Marcello’s shirt.

  Nothing I did penetrated their thick heads. Their collective rage was too much. Their anger burned too bright. I tried to wedge my body between them. Marcello yelled, but it was too late. Sal’s fist barreled toward me. His eyes flared, and he tried to pull back, but his knuckles clipped my chin and my head flew sideways. Pain ricocheted through my body, and I tumbled backward into Marcello’s arms, my hands cupping the lower half of my face.

  Twin gazes gawked at me, and the chaotic energy was replaced with absolute stillness. I worked my jaw from side to side, making sure it wasn’t broken.

  Sal dropped his hands to his sides. “I’m sorry, Em. I didn’t mean…” He couldn’t finish his sentence. I didn’t give a shit, either. I had enough of him to last a lifetime. Sure, Marcello provoked him, but he was responsible for his reaction, and he sure as fuck didn’t own me.

  “Get out of my house.”

  “Now? Tonight? Are you serious?”

  “Yes. I’m fuckin’ done with you. This thing—” I flung my hand between us, my entire body vibrating with disgust, “it ends now. Whatever we were, it’s over. I don’t ever want to see you again.”

  Sal puffed out his chest, likely prepping for another battle. Sensing the brewing hostility, Marcello crossed into the no-man’s land, the thick, weighty space separating Sal and me.

  “You heard her,” Marcello growled.

  Sal picked up his gun and tucked it into his waistband again. “You were just playing me until you were dealt a better hand. Marcello’s practically running the Masciantonio outfit, and I’m just a lowly soldier. That’s what you want? Power?”

  He dove his hand into his pocket and pulled out a square black box. My breath stalled. I knew what it was, and mixed feelings tumbled through me. I’d dreamed about this moment so many times before Marcello strode into my life, and now it was the last thing I wanted from Sal.

  “You might as well take this. It was custom so I can’t take it back.” He flicked open the spring-loaded box. Nestled inside was a ring mounted with tiny threads of spun gold, a princess-cut sapphire in the center. It mimicked a bird’s nest. “You’re the only person who’d like that ring.”

  Marcello snickered. “Why the fuck would you get her that? She hates birds.”

  Sal pinned me with his eyes. “No, you love them. Right?”

  Memories crashed into me. My ridiculous birthday party where I lied about liking birds to explain my presence in my dad’s study came back to me. I shivered, remembering the over-the-top display of feathers. I convinced myself a night around those gross feathers was worth it because Sal ended up kissing me. Our first kiss. My first kiss, ever. I should have known then that our relationship would never go anywhere. It all began with a lie.

  “No, Marcello’s right. I hate them. I just said that to—”

  Sal snapped the box closed and stuffed it in his pocket, a flash of malevolence flitted across his face, raising the fine hairs on the back of my neck.

  “You lied. Fuckin’ figures. You accused me of using you, but it was really the other way around. I was a means to an end. A way to get out from under your father’s thumb.” He shook his head. “What a waste of my time and energy. You really are a conniving bitch. I wouldn’t be surprised if you offed your husband. Poor fool.”

  Revulsion and rage coiled around me, burning so hot I was surprised I didn’t spontaneously combust. I wanted to purge him and everything about this moment from my consciousness. His lies, his betrayal, his whatever he did with Lettie hung over me like a portentous cloud, threatening to pulverize me into dust again.

  “Just leave, Sal,” I huffed, the sound grating over my vocal cords. I pointed to the door. “I’m done with this conversation. I told you I didn’t want to restart anything with you, and you kept pushing. This is your own doing. You shouldn’t have bought that ring. I never promised you anything. I don’t need to explain myself to you. And after the crap you pulled before I ran away, I don’t owe you anything.”

  Sal kicked a wooden chair across the floor, splintering one of the legs. The loud crack boomed through the room like a gong. “You want me gone, fine. I’m fuckin’ gone. You may think this is over, but you’re both gonna regret this. You think your life is shit now, Emilia, but just wait. I haven’t begun to fuck with the two of you.”

  Marcello closed the space between him and Sal in a few confident strides. “You got your answer.” Then Marcello lowered his voice and added something I couldn’t hear. Sal growled a few foul-mouthed words and left.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The door of the barn slammed shut, marking Sal’s departure. The finality of what had happened boomeranged through me. All the warm, fuzzy feelings of being with Marcello had vanished, replaced with a gut-churning hollowness.

  I swiped my hand down the side of my face, probably further smearing my mascara. I made a mental note to avoid mirrors before I showered.

  “Um…” I cleared my throat, scrambling for a way to reassert some semblance of control over my life. “So, I think I’ll head to bed.”

  I avoided Marcello’s face, uncertain what I’d see there. Uncertain what I hoped to see. Regret? Anger? Lust? Something more? I internally cursed myself for being so fuckin’ pitiable.

  I used to believe all my problems were a result of being related to Dominick Trassato. By definition, I was a criminal’s spawn, but maybe I had it all wrong. Maybe I was cursed from birth because of the destruction my parents’ relationship caused.

  If what Marcello said was accurate, my mother played my father against his father, inciting a devastating tug of war between two powerful men. I wasn’t any better. For the past few years, I had convinced myself I was the victim and that the men in my life were the villains. Only now I realized I was a bad character exactly like my mother before me, unwittingly playing two men against each other.

  I took a few steps to make my exit, and Marcello gripped my arm. “Wait. I think we should talk about this.”

  “No.” My voice sounded like I had smoked a pack of cigarettes alongside the Johnny Walker. “I can’t. Not tonight. My head’s not in the right place.”

  Marcello’s gaze sharpened, taking my measure, learning every damn thing I couldn’t admit to myself.

  “Did you know Sal was going to propose?”

  “No. You heard the conversation. I was shocked. I don’t know where he got the idea I’d drop everything and marry him.”

  “You weren’t discussing it when I walked in on you two in the kitchen?”

  I shook my head. I wasn’t in the right headspace to do this right now. He wouldn’t stop until he got his answers, though, so I told him as little as possible, hoping to placate him. “Sal wanted a second chance. I didn’t agree to anything.” I snatched my hand away from him. “What’d you say to Sal as he was walking out?”

  “I told him if he bothered you again, I’d end him.”

  My eyes flared. Mafia spooks didn’t need to be throwing out threats over me. I’d already caused enough damage by disappearing all those years ago instead of standing up to my father and owning up to my feelings for Marcello. My character weakness snowballed into a lot of crap I wished I could undo.

  “You didn’t really say that, right? I mean, my family
would—”

  A smug smile spread across his face. “I’m not afraid of your fuckin’ dad. In fact, he should be afraid of me.”

  “You bigheaded…Oh, I can’t believe you just stirred up more…” I stammered myself into silence, not sure what I wanted to say and still fuming that he told Sal he took my virginity.

  Marcello’s smile grew, if that were possible. “I told him what you didn’t have the balls to say—that you didn’t want anything to do with him.”

  “Ugh.” I stomped past a bale of alfalfa hay outside the office door. The sweet smell filled the air, bringing back memories, both good and bad. I pushed them away. “Maybe so, but I don’t like you or any other man making decisions for me. With the exception of the last few years, I’ve spent my entire life under my father’s thumb. And you’re probably worse than him.”

  Instead of being pissed, Marcello had the gall to chuckle. “You can handle me, little Emilia. If I want something, I don’t stop until I get it. So you see, I’m predictable.”

  I shot him a dark look over my shoulder on my way out of the barn. His heavy footsteps followed me. “Yeah, as predictable as a game of Russian roulette.”

  Marcello’s arms circled my waist, his hot breath feathering the top of my head. “You wouldn’t want me any other way.”

  A live wire of heat and lust zipped through me. You’d think the confrontation with Sal would have squashed all these feelings. Apparently, Marcello was my Achilles heel, the chink in my armor, my soft underbelly, or if I were lucky, my salvation.

  I exhaled a breath, and my body curved around his, clinging to him like a second skin. “If you want this to work between us, and I’m not even sure if you do or if you’re playing with me, then you need to stop being so high-handed. I can’t believe you told Sal about us. You stepped over the line.”

  His thumbs grazed the underside of my breasts. “Emilia…do you really expect me to stand there like a gentleman while Sal makes a play for my woman? If I rolled over and played dead, then I’m not a man. And I’m sure as hell not worthy of being the boss of the Masciantonio family.”

  My heart soared inside my chest, and my throat tightened. There was so much in that statement. The feminist side of me wanted to kick and scream about being called someone’s woman, but the princess-obsessed little girl that still lived somewhere inside my soul swooned. The other part, him being the head of the Masciantonios, I couldn’t digest. I guess that made sense. He was next in line years ago, but something about him following in my father’s footsteps, albeit for another family, freaked me the fuck out. I decided to ignore it for now and process it later.

  “I’m not your woman,” I protested, my voice as flimsy as a puff of smoke.

  Turning me to face him, his calloused hands cupped my cheeks. He stared at me in a way that annihilated my reservations and prompted another one of those unruly bursts of desire to flood my veins.

  “I’m almost certain we already settled that back in the barn, but if you think it’s still up for negotiation, I’m happy to give you a reminder once we’re back at the house.”

  More of his high-handedness. Much to my dismay, I couldn’t find it in me to protest. I liked it. I liked him. I always had. I curled my fists around his shoulders, and he took it as an invitation. His lips met mine, and God, I loved feel of his mouth.

  Marcello scooped me up and carried me into the house, kicking the front door shut behind us.

  I smothered my smile in his shirt. “Where are you taking me?”

  “Your bedroom.”

  “You’re joining me, right?”

  He paused at the threshold of my room, his muscles tense. I tipped up my head to catch his gaze, and his eyes slid to the side. My happiness faded like a sinking balloon.

  “I can’t.”

  “Hmm,” I murmured, not trusting myself to say the right thing. I couldn’t stomach another fight or even a minor disagreement. Perhaps things were better left unsaid.

  Marcello set me on my bed. He ran his fingers through his hair, likely trying to come up with the right words to defuse the tension. Would it always be like this between us? The highs eclipsed by the lows? The disappointment washing away the good times?

  “Whatever you’re thinking right now, you need to get it outta your head. I need to talk to Mila. One of my guys is picking her up,” he glanced at the silver and gold watch on his wrist, “in an hour and taking her to the airport.”

  “She’s leaving?” I said absently.

  “Yeah.” He raked his teeth over his lower lip. “She has some friends in California she wants to visit. I didn’t want her to go, but she’s a grown woman.”

  I nodded. “What happens now with us?”

  “I’m gonna double-check that Mila’s awake and make sure Sal’s gone. Then we’ll talk.”

  He glanced out the window across from my bed. It was one of the reasons I picked this room. I kept the shades up so I could see the sunrise every morning. Unlike in New York where the buildings gobbled up the landscape, I could see for miles, although it no longer brought me peace. Maybe someday I’d come back here and fall in love with it again for the right reasons.

  “I’m done with this place. I’m ready to go back to New York.”

  He tilted his head to the side. “Are you sure? We can stick around for a couple of weeks while the police wrap up the investigation and you get things on track with the ranch.”

  A surprised and elated sound whispered between my lips. With that sentence, so many of my doubts about him disappeared. If he were anything like my father, he had tons of work and other stuff hanging in the balance, yet he offered to table it all for me.

  “Yeah. I’ll send a message to Gavin’s brother telling him I’ll pay him to take care of the ranch. I don’t know. Maybe I’ll just give it to him. It’s his birthright. It doesn’t seem fair to keep it from him when it’s the only thing left of his family.”

  “It’s up to you.” He kissed my forehead. “I need to check on Mila and see her off.”

  “Let’s leave the day after tomorrow,” I blurted out, not wanting to disrespect Gavin any more than I already had by having Marcello here.

  “I’ll make the arrangements.”

  He crossed the room, eating up the space to the door, stopping only to draw the blinds. I was mesmerized by the way every single muscle in his body tightened with each step. When he stormed into my life all those years ago, I’d never given myself permission to appreciate him. Determined to paint him as the villain in my story, I convinced myself that those butterflies flopping around in my stomach were the result of dread or fear, but now I knew better. He crawled into my psyche a long time ago, and even if I didn’t remember our childhood vacations together, my soul sure had. And like our future together was written in the stars, I could already feel myself falling for him again. My heart reaching out for him, craving him, weaving my dreams around him.

  When he disappeared around the corner, I clenched the crisp, cool sheets between my fingers to keep from jumping out of the bed and running after him like the besotted little girl I was becoming. I undressed and drifted off to sleep in my underwear and bra with a big, fat smile on my face. Maybe tonight was the turning point and all the bad stuff was truly behind me.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Marcello

  It didn’t take long to find Sal. He was in the guest room Emilia had assigned him, leaning against the window, drinking whiskey straight out of the bottle. The sick and twisted side of me was glad he hadn’t left so I could put a period on this bullshit once and for all.

  I took an unhurried step in his direction, every cell in my body demanding that I rip his limbs from his body.

  Sal flicked a glance in my direction. “What are you doing here?”

  “Wrong question.”

  “I’m not in the mood tonight, Marcello,” he spat. “Just say what you came to say and leave me alone.”

  Closing in on him, I coiled my hand around his throat and pinned his hea
d against the window. I flexed my muscles, curious how much force it would take to end his miserable life once and for all. I was tempted. So fuckin’ tempted. He may have walked away tonight with the intention of giving up Emilia, but I watched this story play out with Emilia’s mom, and I didn’t want history to repeat itself more than it already had.

  His eyes bugged out. I pressed harder, needing to leave him with a reminder of what would happen if he crossed me. He clawed at my hands, his coordination impaired from drinking too much. That was his first mistake. You should never let your guard down when your enemies are near.

  His face was turning blue, and I didn’t give a shit. I’d bury his body on the ranch. Nobody would ever find him. He’d become another mafia piece of shit gone missing. The cops never looked too hard for a made member. It was one less man they had to keep tabs on.

  Just when I came to peace with the idea of ending his life, he kicked out, catching me hard in the shin. I released his throat and punched him in the face. The sound of bone hitting bone echoed through the room. His body sagged, his chest heaving with the effort to get air in his lungs. Blood dripped from his nose.

  “Fuck you, you crazy motherfucker.” Balling his hand into a fist, he charged me.

  Did he really think I’d let him lay a single finger on me? At the last second, I darted to the side and shoved him. He collapsed onto his knees, groaning.

  Fire still racing like acid through my veins, I crouched next to his head and grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling him within inches of my face. “Come within ten miles of Emilia again,” I growled, “and I’ll be more than happy to demonstrate exactly how much of a crazy motherfucker I am when someone tries to take what’s mine.”

  “Emilia’s too good for you.”

  “And your point is?”

  “When she finds out what a psychopath you are, she’ll leave your ass…again. And I’ll be there waiting for her with open arms.”