Clean Slate (New Mafia Trilogy #2) (19 page)

           
“Yes, Princess, it’s yours. Try it on for size.”

Very carefully, I
lifted my present out of the case. It was cold and dense, but not too heavy and
my hand fit the grip perfectly. Holding it away from my body and from Victor, I
exhaled deeply at the memory of the last time I held a gun.

           
“Wow, not your typical stocking stuffer,” I commented and
Victor laughed. His laugh was deep and infectious. I joined him, but soon
sobered when I remembered I was holding a deadly weapon. I set the gun it its
box like it was a venomous snake and quickly took a step back.

           
“Relax, it’s not loaded.” Victor chuckled and shook his
head, taking a magazine out of his leather jacket pocket. He set it down next
to my gun. “You are now the owner of a Glock 19. Do you know what the 19
means?”

           
“No.”

           
“It means there are 19 bullets in that magazine. Shooting
lessons start tomorrow.”

           
“Really? Sweet. Thank you!” I threw myself at him, giving
him a hug. He hesitated before wrapping his arms around me and returning the
squeeze.

           
“There’s one more thing,” he said in my ear and I
immediately tensed up, unsure if Victor had interpreted my hug as an invitation
for more, but he pulled away and took a seat on one of the stools at the
breakfast bar.

           
“What’s that?”

           
“Gio wants to meet you. He wants you to come to Christmas
dinner and he won’t take no for an answer.”

Of course he wouldn’t.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I sighed. “Fine. What time?”

Victor said he would
pick me up at 6:00. After he left, I locked the gun safe and slid it underneath
the futon before changing into shorts and a t-shirt to go for a run on the
treadmill at the community fitness center. The run helped clear my head and it
also made me realize I forgot to tell Victor about the social security number
situation. Making a mental note to ask him when he picked me up, I continued
running, enjoying the pleasant burn in my calves.

When I got back to the
apartment, I showered and didn’t shave, enjoying the freedom of not having to
impress a man with smooth legs. Not bothering to get dressed yet, I wandered
into the kitchen and made a turkey avocado sandwich. Sitting down on the futon,
I turned the TV on and flicked through the channels, passing holiday movie
after holiday movie. There was The Christmas Story marathon and Scrooged,
National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation, Trading Places and some horrifically
cheesy movie on the Hallmark Channel. I settled on Home Alone, completely
relating to Kevin McAllister since I was alone on Christmas without my family
and evading bad guys.

At 5:30 I finished
getting ready for dinner. I dressed in simple black pants and a dark green
V-neck sweater. My hair had air dried without any product so it hung past my
shoulders in loose waves. I kept my make-up light and natural. As I was
slipping on a pair of black heels, there was a knock on the door.

Checking the peephole
first, I recognized Victor’s profile and opened the door. He cleaned up quite
nicely and was wearing dark blue jeans with a black button down shirt. All of
his tattoos were covered except for the top part of a skull on the side of his
neck, its blank eye sockets peering up over his collar. His hair was tied back
and not hanging in front of his face, making his eyebrow piercing more visible.

           
“You look nice,” I said when I let him inside.

           
“You too. Ready?”

           
“Yes.” I grabbed my black Coach clutch and followed
Victor outside, locking the door behind me. “Um, we’re not taking the Harley,
are we?” I asked, pausing on the stairs leading to the parking lot.

Victor laughed. “No, I
drove one of my cars.” He hit the key fob in his hand and headlights on a black
Audi parked next to my BMW flashed. “You won’t get helmet head tonight.” he
teased when he held the door open for me and I slid into a soft leather seat.
Victor walked around the car and when he got in, his pant leg pulled up,
revealing his ankle holster and gun. Seeing it reminded me of protection, which
made me think of my social security number situation. I explained to Victor
what happened and asked him if I should be concerned.

           
“It might be an issue. I’ll mention it to Gio tonight. As
of now we don’t think Marco knows you’re here, but if the cops on his payroll
figure it out, then…”

I took a deep breath,
keeping the panic in check. “Then we’ll deal with it.”

           
“Right,” Victor said, giving me an approving smile.

Victor drove us out of
the city and up into the foothills where streetlights were spaced further and
further apart until we reached an elevation where his Audi’s headlights
provided the only light. In the distance, sprawling estates, built far away
from the street offered a glimpse of civilization. Our views to the left were
of a blanket of twinkling lights from urban sprawl far below. This blanket
ended near the edge of the ocean, an inky black expanse stretching out until it
disappeared into the night sky.
 

My phone vibrated in my
clutch so I fished it out. Chelsea had texted me:
Merry Christmas! Sorry, I can’t call, Mom is up my ass
. I chuckled
and wished her Merry Christmas. Seconds later my phone buzzed again. This was
an incoming call from a number I didn’t recognize and it had a 215 area code –
Philadelphia’s main area code. I hesitated, but answered right before it went
to voicemail.

           
“Hello?”

           
“Merry Christmas!” Grant said and I relaxed.

           
“Merry Christmas to you, I almost didn’t answer.”

           
“I picked up another throwaway phone. How are you?”

           
“Good, I guess.” I told him I was with Victor and where
we were going.

           
“I’m not surprised Gio wants to meet you. Just be
careful, okay?”

           
“I will. Did you have a good Christmas?”

Grant told me about
Christmas Eve dinner at Uncle Franco’s restaurant and my stomach growled when he
mentioned the calamari. Surprisingly, I found myself craving one of Aunt
Gloria’s hugs more than her food.

           
“How’s Dom?” My voice tapered off at the end, it even
hurt to say his name.

           
“He’s determined…to deal with Marco and get you back. I
miss you too. It doesn’t feel like Christmas without you here. Mom is in one of
her moods and already went to bed.”

The holidays always
drove our mom into a funk. Before our dad left, we had the best Christmas
memories. Grant and I would get up at the crack of dawn and wake our parents
up. After opening presents, dad would make blueberry pancakes with maple syrup
and we’d eat in the living room surrounded by bunches of torn wrapping paper,
cardboard boxes and yards of ribbon. All of that changed after he left us, it
was like he packed up all the potential for holiday cheer in his suitcase and
took it with him.

           
“Tell him about your social security number,” Victor
interjected as he slowed down to turn into a gated driveway. A large wrought
iron gate loomed ahead, its black metal bars illuminated by the headlights.

I filled Grant in and
he promised to keep his ears open. “Don’t worry, Nat. Dom and I want to resolve
this as soon as possible.”

           
“I know. “

We said goodbye as
Victor parked behind a line of cars taking up the right side of the long,
winding driveway. I walked beside him, trying to match my stride to his, but
that proved impossible. Noticing this, Victor slowed his pace and I was able to
appreciate our surroundings. I heard the fountain before I saw it in the center
of the circular part of the driveway. Lights shone on the water and the wet
peach sandstone looked almost red, reminding me of blood. I quickly turned away
and focused on the grand entrance instead. A man stood outside; wearing all
black he was almost invisible in the shadow.

           
“Nick,” Victor nodded to the man, placing his hand on the
small of my back as he guided me inside to an incredible courtyard. White
lights hung from a balcony that overlooked the piazza. A fire flickered in the
chiminea and I saw the silhouettes of people sitting on love seats that were
placed around the outdoor fireplace.

Victor escorted me across
the courtyard and through French doors that led to the main house. The doors
stood open and gauzy cream colored drapes blew in the light breeze. A group of
men, all wearing varying shades of black, sat on leather furniture around a
rustic wooden coffee table that reminded me of a stagecoach wheel. Tumblers
full of amber liquid were on the table along with a couple bottles of beer.

           
“Hey Victor,” one of the men called, acknowledging our
entrance. I didn’t miss the way his eyes wandered up and down my body.
Apparently Victor didn’t either as he tucked me behind him, blocking the man’s
view.

           
“Where’s Gio?” Victor asked.

           
“In his office.”

Victor turned and moved
me so I was standing in front of him and he guided me down a hallway. We were
nearing the end when we approached a door with a man standing guard. He was
bald, built like a Navy Seal on steroids and had a vicious scar that ran down
the length of his face, starting at the corner of his eye and pulling part of
his mouth down into an extended frown.

           
“Hey Jimmy,” Victor called. Jimmy loosened himself from
his military stance so he could hug Victor.

           
“Merry Christmas, Drago,” Jimmy said. I hovered back,
trying to conceal my smirk at these beasts of men embracing, acting like normal
people and not killers. After clapping each other on their backs, Jimmy nodded
in my direction. “This is the girl?”

           
“Yeah. Natalie, meet Jimmy.”

I stepped forward,
instantly feeling dwarfed in the presence of these two men, and held my hand
out. It disappeared within Jimmy’s bear paw-sized hand. “Merry Christmas,
Jimmy,” I said, meeting his eyes and not shying away. He grunted and a trace of
a lopsided smile rippled across his lips before he released my hand to open the
office door. Victor’s casual demeanor changed the moment the door swung open.
His face became devoid of emotion and his body language stiffened, like he was
a rusty tin man.

A man with salt and
pepper hair sat behind an enormous wooden desk. His feet were propped up on the
top and he was talking on a cell phone. After he ended his brief call, he stood
and came around the desk. I was shocked at how short Mr. Bianchi was. In my
heels, I was close to 5’7” and we were almost eye to eye.

           
“So, you’re Dominic’s girl, huh?” he said. Where Marco
lived a life of excess and it showed in his pot belly and jowls, Gio was fit
and wore a tailored black suit over a metallic gray shirt, which complimented
his hair.

           
“Yes, hi, I’m Natalie. Thank you for inviting me.” Gio
took my hand and brought it to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on the top, but
didn’t release it right away. Instead he held on, his mouth hovering just above
as he evaluated me.

           
“I can see what all the fuss is about,” he said, finally
letting my hand go. “Welcome to my home, Natalie. Come, let’s go find my wife.”
He gestured to follow him and I did, with Victor right behind me.
  

We walked back down the
hallway and instead of going into the sitting room where we first came in, Gio
veered to the right and we walked past a kitchen Martha Stewart would have sold
stock tips for and entered a sun porch of sorts. The room was all glass and
overlooked a pool, which was full of people.

           
“Samantha,” Gio called and a blonde woman, who looked like
she recently graduated high school, glanced up from where she was sitting on a
white leather sectional, surrounded by other women. She gracefully unfolded her
long legs, smoothing her short skirt over her thighs, and sauntered over to us
with a champagne flute in one hand. Up close I could tell she was older and had
a fairly decent amount of plastic surgery because parts of her face appeared to
be frozen, which I only noticed when we were introduced and she attempted to
smile. Her cheeks didn’t want to move. Samantha Bianchi was taller than her
husband. She had a willowy physique like a ballerina and her blond contrasted
against Gio’s dark hair. “Samantha, this is Natalie, please show her around.”

Samantha appraised me
with a hand on her hip. “Who is she again?” she asked Gio. Okay, bitchy much? I
thought to myself while keeping a pleasant smile on my face.