Code of Silence: Cosa Nostra #2 (5 page)

The Choice

Mandi shifted in her seat of the crowded waiting room of the women’s clinic. She’d been here an hour and forty-five minutes already—and she’d handed the mountain of paperwork over at least an hour ago. Still, they hadn’t called her name. She wondered if this was some kind of manipulative ploy to see if she would change her mind, or to give her time to if that’s what she wanted.

She’d considered it at least a thousand times already. It would be so easy to just get up and walk out the door, nobody would think twice about it. But then what? Then she was back to being confused and afraid and tied to the DeLucas forever.

No. It was better this way. Now just wasn’t the right time to have a kid. Maybe someday, but not
now
.

With a nervous sigh, she picked up a magazine and began to look through it without even taking the time to read any of the words.

“Let’s go.” The sound of Trey’s voice stopped her cold. She froze with the thin page of the magazine pinched between her index finger and her thumb. Her heart leapt and began to pulse rapidly while her mind raced with a thousand fearful thoughts. All of this happened before she had the courage to lift her gaze to look at him.

He was in his street clothes. The slick leather jacket against a white shirt and blue jeans combo he always wore when he was out collecting rent or intimidating street-corner dealers. Right now, he was looking at her like she was one of those lowlifes. The rage in his eyes was a type she’d never seen before, and it didn’t do anything to help her snap back into motion. Remaining frozen, she was helpless to do anything but stare up at him, silently begging for mercy.

“Let’s go,” he repeated, just loud enough to embarrass her and make a few heads turn. When she still didn’t move, he reached down and looped his fingers around her wrist, giving her a firm tug onto her feet.

Though everybody stared, nobody said a word as he hauled her out of the clinic. Once they were outside, he turned to her, infuriated, his hold on her wrist tightening. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“How did you know I was here?” she asked, rage of her own building. Was he having her followed, now?

“Answer my question. What the fuck are you doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing?” she asked, her voice quivering. She motioned to the building behind her. “Why does any pregnant woman come here?”

This made his jaw tighten, setting in a harsh, angry line. He shook his head and reached for her again. “This isn’t gonna happen.”

“Stop telling me what to do!”

“Mandi, this is a huge sin. I’m catholic, remember? This goes against everything we believe in.”

“Right, I forgot. Tell me, how does God feel about you murdering people for a living?”

Anger flashed in his eyes. “Is that all you see me as?” he asked. “A murderer? If you go through with this, you’ll be no better than I am. Only you’ll have the blood of an innocent baby on your hands.”

That remark hit her harder than she expected. “You asshole.”

“I’m the asshole? You were going to do this without even talking to me!”

“Yeah, because I knew what you would say! I knew you’d never understand.”

“I understand you’re scared. I know you don’t trust me and my job freaks you out, and the idea of being tied to me forever is terrifying to you. But I
don’t
understand how you could take all of that out on a child who hasn’t done anything wrong. This won’t solve
a thing
.”

“Are you sure? Because from where I’m standing, it’ll solve all of those problems.”

He stared at her. “Fine. If you want away from me so bad, then you can leave after the kid’s born.”

“And what? Just hand it over to you? Abandon my own kid the way my parents did?”

“It beats this, doesn’t it?” he asked. “At least they gave you a shot. They didn’t kill you just because they were too afraid to grow up.”

“Fuck you, Trey.” She glared at him as she shoved past him and headed down the sidewalk.

“Get in the car,” he said.

“No! I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“And I’m not letting you out of my sight,” he shot back. “Not after this.”

“What are you going to do?” she asked, spinning to face him. “You gonna keep me locked up for the next eight months?”

“If I have to.”

She stared at him in disbelief. “So I’m your prisoner now?”

“If that’s the way you want to see it.” A black car pulled up alongside them. Reaching over, he opened the door and waited for her to get inside.

Even though she wanted to turn and walk the other way—maybe even throw in a slap and a few choice words—she knew he would just follow her. When Trey made up his mind, he didn’t change it. He stopped at nothing to get what he wanted. Right now, she was carrying the very thing he wanted most.

“I know you can’t see it yet,” he said, his tone turning just a fraction softer. “But I’m just trying to stop you from the biggest mistake you’ll ever make.”

“You’re right,” she said as she stepped down off the curb and ducked into the car. “I don’t see it.”

He climbed into the car and shut the door. Settling into the seat beside her, he kept his icy gaze fixed straight ahead, refusing to look at her. “You will.”

~~~

Sitting on the patio, Bela unenthusiastically flipped through one of the dozen bridal magazines Claudia had dumped out onto the table.

“I’m thinking you need a cathedral train,” Claudia said as she flipped through the pages of a thick catalogue of dresses. “And I know you like halters, but with your shoulders, you could definitely pull off a strapless. I’m thinking white with a green sash. I know it’s an old tradition, but we need all the good luck we can get. Let’s face it, our families have been feuding for ten years. Bela, are you even listening?”

“Cathedral train, halter versus strapless, green sash, feuding for ten years,” Bela recited mindlessly.

Claudia gave her a playful scowl. “Aren’t brides supposed to glow with excitement?”

“And if I was marrying Vincent, I’d glow bright enough to light up the entire ceremony,” she said. “But this…I don’t know how I’m supposed to just put on a smile and go through with it.”

“I’ll tell you how,” she said with a mischievous grin. “By throwing the most elaborate, expensive wedding you can. Daddy wants to break your heart? Fine. You can break his wallet.”

Bela couldn’t help but laugh. “You’ve got style, Claudia,” she said. “That’s for sure.”

Imagining the wedding was with Vincent helped her to make the plans. For the next few weeks, her life revolved around dress fittings and floral arrangements. To her despair, the wedding date was set for the end of July, only a month away. Sal, superstitious as he was, claimed marrying in August was bad luck and any later date would just keep their people waiting longer than necessary. It seemed everybody was just itching to trade her over to the Marcanos and get on with their so-called peace. Bela didn’t believe the offerings of reconciliation for one second, though. Everything inside of her told her something more sinister was in motion.

Date Night

The restaurant buzzed with conversations and energy. People were at every table, either in couples or families or larger parties. They were even crowded in across the bar that ran the length of the room. Friday was one of the busiest nights at
Signora Italiano’s
—the one business venture of her father’s that Bela could tolerate. Sitting in a comfortable, private booth in the corner, she waited for Rafe to arrive. Gio was stationed right across the table from her, sipping on a Miller Highlife and watching the Nicks play on the flatscreen in the corner.

Someone suggested—she didn’t know who, but she’d gotten the order from Trey—she should go out in public with Rafe once a week. Trey claimed this was so she could get to know her new fiancé better, but she suspected it was merely to keep up the appearance of a united front.

Glancing down at the small gold watch on her wrist, Bela gave an annoyed sigh. “He’s fifteen minutes late.”

“It’s bad form to keep a lady waiting,” Gio replied.

“
Right
, because that’s what’s wrong with this situation.” She flagged down the waitress and exchanged her empty martini glass for a full one.

“You know, I never once saw you drink until he put that ring on your finger.”

“Because I never did,” she said, “but being forced to marry your boyfriend’s brother can change things quickly.”

He nodded in understanding. Then he leaned in, lowering his voice. “I might be speaking out of line here, Miss DeLuca, but I just wanted to tell you we all appreciate what you’re doing here.”

“We?” she asked.

“You know. Me and all of the other soldiers out there. The ones who would do all of the fighting if we ever went to the mattresses.” He sat back and gave her an admiring gaze. “This alliance changes all of that. It makes us feel safe again, more importantly, it makes our
families
feel safe again. Wives, children—they used to sit up at night and worry. Now, they don’t have to anymore. And it’s all thanks to you.”

His words left her speechless. She’d never thought of the foot soldiers before, the ones who weren’t invited into the corner office. Now she realized they were probably the first to be sacrificed in any war. What if they didn’t have to be? What if this arrangement really
could
bring peace?

She offered him a small smile of appreciation, but before she could respond, Rafe decided to show up. He sauntered into the restaurant twenty minutes late, with two henchmen behind him. It seemed like those goons followed him
everywhere
. Trey could at least take care of himself and was rarely spotted with more than one crew member at his side. He saw bodyguards as a sign of weakness.

She took a small, bracing breath as he headed toward her table. Gio stood, but lowered his voice to say, “Would it make you feel better if we had a signal?”

She raised an eyebrow in question.

“You know, drop your spoon or something and I’ll come over with a fake emergency and we can bail.”

“Sure,” she said, giving him a smile. “Drop my spoon. Sounds easy enough.”

He gave her a sympathetic nod as he passed her. “I’ll be right at the bar in the back.”

“Thanks,” she said, and then turned her attention to Rafe as he approached the table. “You’re late.”

“Traffic’s a bitch,” he said, taking Gio’s seat. He picked up the menu and began to study it. “You order yet?”

“No,” she said. “You go ahead. I’m not very hungry.”

“Good God, Bela,” he muttered, dropping the menu back to the table. “Do you have to act like every one of these meetings is a death sentence? Can’t we ever just enjoy a meal?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” she shot back.

He ignored her while he placed his order with the waiter and took it upon himself to order a pasta plate for her. Once they were alone again, an awkward silence fell over them.

Bela tried to fill the silence by tapping her fingernails against the stem of her glass.

“So…” Rafe said finally. “You’re in college, right? What are you studying?”

“Psychology,” she said.

He laughed—actually, he
snorted
in amusement and then grinned at her. “What is that? They teach how to listen to people who lie around and whine about their problems?”

Had he really just said that? she wondered as she scowled at him in annoyance. “We study the mind and how it works,” she said, taking a sip of her martini. “If you ask me, you could use some couch time.”

“Oh, I’d love some.” He looked her up and down with a suggestive grin. “Just not the kind you’re referring to.”

She was close to shoving a spoon off the table and summoning Gio, when he gave her a challenge she couldn’t resist.

“Well come on, princess,” he said with a smirk. “Show me what you got. Shrink me.”

“Looking for a diagnosis?”

“I bet you already think you’ve got me pegged.” He relaxed against his seat, as if preparing for a good show. “Let’s hear it.”

“All right.” She studied him a moment, analyzing every detail of his appearance and body language. “Well it doesn’t take a genius to know looks mean everything to you. The perfectly groomed hair and two thousand dollar suit gives that away. It’s even in the way you speak—the words you choose, your carefully selected tones. You’re well educated or at least want to seem that way, but under that suave façade, there’s a whole mess of daddy issues. I’ll bet you felt inadequate for a long time, like nothing was ever enough to please him, right? Then something changed—something won you his approval and that, like tripled the size of your ego. You feel like a king now and expect people to treat you like one. You’re not a sociopath, so you don’t gravitate toward violence but you will use it as a means to an end if you need to. You’re a narcissist, incapable of thinking outside your own point of view, but that’s not your fault. I think it came from all those years of inadequacy.”

When she finished, he was gazing at her with a charmed sparkle in those chestnut colored eyes, his lips slanted in a mildly amused smirk. She sensed he was a hint insulted and little impressed, but mostly entertained. This told her she was nothing but a joke to him. “Not bad,” he said. “Though I wouldn’t call myself a narcissist.”

“Most narcissists wouldn’t,” she said. “But what I’m the most curious about is when you went from not good enough to king of the world? Was it when Vincent bailed?”

He raised an eyebrow in response, but didn’t bother to answer.

“Deep down you knew he was the better business man—even though you’re older than him—and your dad knew it too. Vincent was always his favorite, right?”

“Until he walked out on our family and turned his back on our entire legacy,” he said. “That’s a tough one for my dad to get over.”

“Making you number one,” she said. “Seems like it all worked out for you.”

“Yes.”

“Still, you hate Vincent. All those years of being second best…only to have him betray your family. You must want to make him pay. Is that where I come in?”

“You think this arrangement is just to do what…break his heart? Make him jealous?”

“I think it’s a bonus for you,” she said. 

“You know, I’ve got your number, too.”

“Is that right?”

“Poor over privileged princess locked away in her tower, surrounded by the Cosa Nostra. It’s messed with your head so much you’ve come to believe every move someone makes is designed to imprison you even more. In a way, I feel bad for you.” He picked up his glass and lifted it in a mock toast, though she wasn’t sure what he was toasting. “That’s no way to live.”

She kept her gaze on him as his words ran all over her, igniting her Italian temper. Though it would help her resentment issues to throw another drink in his face, she decided to go for a more subtle exit. Using her elbow, she knocked her spoon off the table. As it clattered to the floor, she pretended to be surprised. “Oops,” she said.

Rafe just raised an eyebrow. He didn’t seem surprised when Gio came over a few moments later and interrupted them.

“Excuse me, Miss DeLuca.” Gio stood beside Bela’s seat. “Trey called,” he said. “He wants you to come home.”

“Right now?” she asked, pretending to be annoyed. “You told him I’m right in the middle of doing the last thing he ordered me to do, right?”

“I tried,” he said with a shrug. “He said to tell you ‘shut up and do it.’”

Bela pushed her chair back and stood, grateful for the excuse to leave. With a taut, reluctant smile at Rafe, she said, “Thanks for a lovely evening. Can’t wait to do it again.”

She hadn’t intended to sound so sarcastic, but the words came out that way anyway. Without bothering to exchange any more pleasantries, she left.

~~~

Trey set a dinner tray on the bed in front of Mandi. She glanced at the pasta plate with a scowl. She was so sick of Italian food, just the sight of it made her want to puke. “I told you I wasn’t hungry.”

“You need to eat,” he said. “The baby needs it.”

She rolled her eyes and returned her attention to the book she was reading. Being locked up in the mansion, there was little to do but read and watch TV. Trey had made good on his promise not to let her out of his sight, although the eyes that watched her didn’t always belong to him. He was too busy to keep watch on her 24/7 and sometimes needed one of his men to do it for him.

“That your new plan?” he asked with a sigh as he sat down on the bed. “Starve yourself to death?”

“Screw you,” she said as she flipped a page, though she hadn’t read the last one. He was making her too angry to focus on the words, but the motion of flipping pages helped her to ignore him.

He snatched the book from her hands. “Are you ever going to talk to me again?”

“Wait, I have a voice?” she asked, her eyes bulging. “Shocking discovery.”

“I’m not that bad,” he said. “I listen to you. I listened when you said you wanted to work, didn’t I? I even made it happen. I just don’t agree with you on this one.”

“How much is your life going to change if we have this baby?” she asked. “I mean, honestly. Do you see it changing a lot? Because I don’t. But my life is going to be completely different.”

“Why is that so bad?” he asked.

“Trey, we haven’t even been together three months. Don’t you think this is all happening a little fast?”

“Of course I do,” he said. “But that doesn’t change the fact that it is happening.”

She sighed, bringing her fingers up to squeeze the bridge of her nose. She was getting a headache from having the same fight over and over again.

“Why is it so bad that I want this baby?” he asked. “Would you prefer me to be like the other guys out there? Just drop you off at the clinic with some money and tell you to go take care of it? I’m not one of them, Mandi.”

“No, that’s not what I want,” she said. “But you’ve never asked me what I wanted. Not once. You just make decisions for me and I can’t stand it. If you want me to stay, you’re going to have to change the way you do things. We need to make decisions
together
.”

“That goes both ways,” he said, locking gazes with her.

Looking down at her fingernails, Mandi fought a feeling of shame. “I wanted to tell you,” she said finally. “But I thought you would’ve tried to talk me out of it.”

“Probably.” He was quiet a moment. “But what is it that you want?”

She scoffed cynically. “I wish I knew.”

~~~

“I only have a few minutes, so make this quick,” Sal said as Vincent entered his office.

It’d taken him over a week to get this meeting with Sal, and now that it was happening, he was unreasonably nervous. His palms were even beginning to sweat, but he tried not to let it show.

“I want to talk about the merger,” he said as he took a seat in front of Sal’s desk. With his hands out of Sal’s sight, he took the opportunity to wipe them on his jeans. “It seems like everyone profits from it except for me. I lose everything.”

Sal leaned back in his chair. “You mean you lose Bela.”

“I haven’t lost her yet,” he said. “Betrothing her to my brother doesn’t change the way she feels—the way either of us feel. Sure, she’s trying to be strong and do what you want, and I keep telling her she should.”

Rapping his knuckles against the surface of his desk, Sal continued to listen.

“Then it dawned on me…why am I letting this happen? Especially when I don’t have to,” he said. “Her will isn’t made of iron. I’m sure she could be persuaded to give up the martyr routine and listen to her heart. I know you threatened to hurt us if we tried to leave, but I’m betting there’s a good chance you won’t ever find us. I’ve become quite adept at hiding from people like you.”

“Are you trying to threaten me, Marcano?”

“Do you feel threatened, DeLuca?” Vincent countered. “I’m just asking for my share. Since I have to sacrifice for this merger to go through, it’s fair, don’t you think?”

“So, what do you want? Money? Tell me, what price makes giving up my daughter worth it to you?”