Thin Lies (Donati Bloodlines #1) (6 page)

A
shiver worked its way down Emma’s spine. That was the second time someone had
subtly offered information to her about Affonso’s actions toward women in his
life.

Actions
suggesting violence.

Her
stomach rolled.

“Is
he like that with his other women, too?” she dared to ask.

Calisto’s
brow furrowed. “Affonso, you mean?”

“Yes.
His mistresses, too. My father mentioned something to me last week. He said
Affonso had a … taste for pain when it came to women who don’t listen. You just
said something similar. I wondered if that was true. Is it?”

Silence
answered Emma’s question.

Then,
Calisto said, “I’ve never seen him hit a woman.”

“But
you don’t know for sure, right?”

“I
know he can be a monster.” Calisto’s eyes hardened, but he wasn’t directing his
coldness at Emma this time. “I know he’s hurt women—
a
woman—someone told
me that once.”

“I
don’t understand. Who did he hurt?”

“Someone,”
Calisto answered vaguely, offering nothing else. “What I meant when I said that
you would have to answer to him for your choices after marrying him wasn’t that
he would turn physical with you. I don’t believe he would, with his wife.
People are watching you, and him, Emmy. Affonso knows better than to hit his
wife and leave a mark that might be seen. And there are other families like his
in New York. Families with far more power than he has. One of those families’
boss, Dante Marcello, is known to step into personal business for the sake of a
woman.”

Emma
didn’t know what to say. “Really?”

“Honor
is supposed to be the most important thing a man has in Cosa Nostra. The way he
treats his wife and his family falls in line with that. There are men in
la
famiglia
who never forget that being honorable, that being a good
made
man, is more important that being your boss’s man. Despite being a boss,
Affonso is watched like anyone else. He has standards that he’s expected to
keep just like anyone else.

“I
don’t believe he would put his hands on you,” Calisto continued quieter. “Your
father was likely just trying to scare you into compliance by playing on a fear
that every woman has buried somewhere inside of them.”

“But
he doesn’t actually need to hit me to hurt me,” Emma replied.

Anyone
with any sense knew that.

Calisto
nodded. “You’re right. And that’s what I meant. He can remove people from your
life, take away your things, shame you privately, or ignore you publically and
make you seem unworthy of your position at his side. Pride is a terrible thing
to have taken away. Sometimes, in this life where a woman is only valued for
her last name and position, her pride might be the one thing she has. The worst
kind of men know exactly how to rip it out of your heart without ever laying a
finger on you.”

“Are
you warning me that Affonso is one of those men?”

“I’m
saying that he’s good at hiding the monster he doesn’t want you to see.”

Emma’s
shoulders tightened with tension. It was like a little knot in between the
blades that wouldn’t leave, no matter how hard she tried. With every reminder
pushed at her that her time as a free woman was quickly coming to a close, the
knot grew a little more.

Just
like the heaviness in her stomach. Or the emptiness in her heart.

Calisto
was still watching her closely, gauging her reactions and emotions. At that
point, Emma didn’t give a damn. She didn’t want to be somebody’s perfect
housewife and doll to play with when it was convenient.

Why
did she have to pretend like she wanted that at all?

“You
did hear what I said, didn’t you?” Calisto asked.

Emma
swallowed her emotions down. “Yes.”

“Practice
makes perfect. Work on it.”

“That’s
easy for you to say. You’re not the one being forced into a future that you
don’t want.”

Calisto’s
lips curved wickedly and his gaze narrowed, darkening his features. The
handsome ruggedness of his face sharpened into something far sexier in a blink.
Emma had to look away again, refusing to get caught up in a crush on a man she
couldn’t have, didn’t know, and wasn’t sure if she wanted to.

Releasing
a short, clipped laugh, Calisto asked, “And how do you know that, Emmy?”

“I
don’t.” She turned back to him, adding, “But I would think that you didn’t wake
up one day with your entire life turned on its side while every decision you
ever thought you made was nothing more than a lie that taunts you. Am I right?
Because that’s how I feel right now, Calisto. That is the hell I’m living with.
Pretending nothing is wrong might seem easy to do, but until you step into my
shoes, you have no idea how hard it really is.”

His
jaw ticked, and his hand balled into a fist against the tabletop. Then, Calisto
grabbed his cup from the table and stood from the booth quickly. His rushed
movements and stiff back told Emma that she had struck a nerve.

Something
…  

What
had she said that pissed him off so much?

“What
are you doing?” Emma asked.

“Going
back to my table,” Calisto muttered. “Maybe you were right, Emma.”

The
way he used her full name instead of her nickname felt wrong. It came out of
his mouth stilted and emotionless. Not like how he usually spoke.

“Right
about what?”

“You.
The overindulged mafia princess with her poor-little-me complex. Keep feeding
that, let it fester and grow. I’m sure in five years, that’ll be the one thing
still going strong inside of you when everything else is used up and gone.
Affonso will keep the silver spoon in your mouth, gagging you quiet. Don’t
worry about that.”

Emma’s
heart clenched, but her mind screamed louder. Unlike earlier when his words had
hurt her by accident, this was not the same.

Calisto
meant to hurt her.

His
words had a purpose. He probably meant to distract her from his own secrets by
cutting her with his words. She wouldn’t let him do that. He was hiding
something.

Emma
wanted to know what it was.

“I
upset you,” Emma said softly.

Calisto
froze solid as he turned to leave, and a shudder worked over his shoulders at
her statement. “No, I—”

“I
did. What was it?”

He
glanced over his shoulder, his stare locking onto hers and holding strong. For
the first time, Emma felt like she was getting a good look at this dangerous,
attractive man. A familiar discontent colored his irises, barely hidden. A
story was right on the tip of his tongue. Hatred twisted his features into a
mask of pain, taking away his usual apathy and replacing it with a man she
might be curious to know.

A
man who looked
raw
.

Beaten
by unseen things.

Used
by unknown beings.

Sore
to the touch, like unhealed wounds.

She
knew those things.

All
of them.

Because
she had them inside, too.

“What
was it?” Emma asked again.

“You
assumed I didn’t understand. You assumed I didn’t know. Your life, your
feelings, and your mistakes. You assumed. And you were wrong.” 

Emma

The
building in front of Emma gave off bad vibes. All she had to do was look at it
and dread slipped into her veins, freezing her solid.

She
didn’t want to do this.

How
many times had she told her mother no, brushed her off, or skipped out on
appointments in the past three weeks?

Several.

Too
many.

Emma
let out a shaky breath, eyeing the lace and satin on display in the shop’s
window with as much disdain and hatred as she could. Her mother had Emma’s
size. She knew her height and measurements. Emma, quite vocally, had refused to
do this very thing and had told Minnie that she would wear whatever in the hell
was supplied for her to put on.

Anger
surged through Emma.

Wedding
dresses covered mannequins in the window. Pretty, delicate veils draped their
faces. Crystal covered shoes, meant for brides wanting to be their very own
Cinderella for the day, rested on raised platforms, catching the sun’s rays and
glittering.

“Damn
you, Mom,” Emma growled under her breath.

A
light chuckle drew Emma’s attention to the side.

Calisto
leaned against a black car, a lit cigarette dangling from between his lips. Just
the way the light of the sun shone down from behind him lit Calisto’s tall, fit
form up like a halo. When he slowly released a cloud of smoke from his lips,
his features and amused smirk were shadowed by the gray plume. The man looked
damn good standing there like he didn’t have a single fuck to give but for the
smoke on his lips.

Emma
ignored the chill running down her spine.

Because
it wasn’t cold.

It
was hot.

And
something deep in her stomach pulsed, right along with the ache between her
thighs.

Stop
it,
she told herself.

She
learned Calisto could be an asshole, a mystery, and sometimes entertaining when
he wanted to be. He was mostly quiet, and he watched people a lot with those
piercing eyes of his. He rarely engaged others for any kind of interaction.

It
only made Emma wonder about him even more. That certainly didn’t help the
growing interest she seemed to feel every goddamn time he was around.

And
the man was always around!

The
fact that she was getting married in just a couple of weeks did not deter the
strange attraction building up heat and crashing through her bloodstream. It
was intent on infecting her until she couldn’t ignore it any more.

Probably
going to get myself killed over this.

Emma
ignored her inner voice.

Calisto’s
dark chuckles made Emma snap out of her daze. The pulse between her thighs
didn’t let up, because frankly, Calisto looked like sex on legs with dark-wash
jeans hugging his hips, a leather jacket resting open against his taut, cut
chest, and that fucking
cigarette
…  

She
hadn’t realized she’d been staring at the man like he was some kind of God. Snapping
her mouth closed, her walls slammed up high and the defenses came out.

Emma’s
attitude had always been her best protection, after all.

“What
do you find so funny?” she asked.

Calisto
quieted. “Well …”

“Well,
what
?”

“You
looked fit to tear that fucking store down for a second. Like you were thinking
you could set the place on fire just with your glare alone. Who knows? Maybe
you would have, if I hadn’t interrupted you. Sorry to break up your hate-fest.
Please, resume. It amuses me when you’re annoyed at something.”

Emma’s
hackles rattled at his teasing. “I’m not annoyed.”

“I
beg to differ,
dolcezza
. You’re ten shades of annoyed and ready to rip
someone’s face off. A stubborn woman can never hide her anger, no matter how
hard she tries. It’s a sign of a passionate person—I didn’t say there was
anything wrong with it, only to work on hiding it.”

“No,
I’m not annoyed. I’m pissed off. If I were annoyed, I’d push on through with a
fucking smile on my face. Right now, I can’t even muster up something like that
to get me through this.”

“It’s
just a wedding dress,” Calisto said quietly.

“Right.
Just a wedding dress. It’s not the end of my freedom or yet another pair of
shackles for them to wrap around my leg to keep me contained.”

Calisto
laughed deeply. “My God, you are …”

Emma
stiffened when Calisto’s gaze traveled over her body like he was taking her red
dress, leather boots, and the curves of her body in for his memories. It didn’t
feel innocent, not with the way his throat bobbed with a swallow, his teeth
bared a little, and his eyes narrowed.

“I’m
what?” Emma asked, trying miserably to hide the air in her voice.

How
could someone turn her on just by looking at her?

Worst
fucking crush ever.

“You
are one dramatic girl, Emmy,” Calisto finally said with a sigh. “But dramatics
won’t get you out of the marriage or the dress shopping. It won’t change your
future or the decisions that have already been made for you. I suggest you
plaster on a fuck-you smile and do what you have to do.”

Emma
wanted to scream out her frustrations. “I wish it were that easy.”

“Unfortunately,
that’s life. It’s a part of growing up and being an adult. We don’t get what we
want just because we want it, and nobody is looking out for you right now.
They’re all looking out for them and what they can gain from this. The easier
you let it be done, the quicker it will be over.”

“And
then I’ll be married to a man I don’t like, want, or could ever possibly love.”

Briefly,
Calisto frowned before his face returned to its usually passive state. “My
mother once said she learned to love my father. Their engagement lasted three
years before they married; however, so I suppose it isn’t the same thing.”

Stunned
at his candor, Emma struggled for a response. “Your mother and father had an
arranged marriage?”

Calisto
nodded. “
Sì
. She was eighteen. He was twenty-four. Young, but they
apparently got on quite well. I know in the early years my father didn’t settle
down with her. He ran with a lot of women for a while. Then things changed and
they became closer. Best friends, my mother used to say.”

“What
kind of things changed?”

“My
mother was in an accident that almost killed her. A motorcycle that my father
had bought her. He kept promising to teach her how to ride.”

“But
he was too busy with other women to remember his promises.”

Calisto
smiled, but the sight was sad. “Something like that. Anyway, she decided to go
on ahead and teach herself when my father didn’t come home again one night. It
ended terribly.”

Emma
shuddered. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t
be. A couple of broken bones later, and my father finally figured out what was
important in his life. My mother said it made the pain worth it, just to see
him come home every night to her and not run to someone else.”

“And
then you came along, right?”

Calisto’s
features darkened.

There
was no hiding it.

“Shortly
after the accident, my mother found out she was pregnant with me, yes.”

Emma
could plainly see the anger in Calisto’s gaze. Once again, he was holding back
information from her. Something secret, something hurtful, that he didn’t want
to share.

Was
he ashamed of whatever it was?

“She
was still young. Only twenty-four,” he added.

“That
would have made your father thirty, right?”

“Yes.”

Emma
fiddled with her fingers, mulling over what she knew. She had done a quick
search on his family like he had told her to, but it hadn’t brought up a lot.
It seemed like a lot of info was simply speculation or precise, known facts.

Birthdays.
Weddings. Official positions within the Donati Cosa Nostra ranks and who held
them. Maybe Emma hadn’t looked at the right stuff. Google had never been her
friend.

“Didn’t
your dad die when he was thirty?” Emma asked, willing the nervousness out of
her tone. “From some kind of motorcycle accident?”

Calisto
turned to ice right before her eyes. At his sides, his fists balled and then
relaxed just as quick. “Richard died at thirty, yes. He was showing my mother
how to handle the machine properly, took a ride away from the house with his
brother, and died when the brakes gave out. At least, that’s how the story goes.”

What
were the odds of that? How tragic, that his father had died before he was even
born. Calisto made it sound like there might be more to it, but Emma chose not
to ask or press for more information.

“That’s
awful. I’m sorry.”

“It
was a long time ago, and I wasn’t even born to meet him. I didn’t lose out on
anything in that regard.”

She
disagreed entirely. Not that Emma had much to talk about. Her relationship with
her father had always been at arm’s length, and the space between them had been
filled with material things as her father’s way of buying her love and loyalty.
It wasn’t healthy.

Emma’s
heart went out to Calisto for his loss of his father, but she was quickly
reminded of his relationship with Affonso.

“I
also noticed that your father was the older one between him and Affonso. I
guess a big deal was made out of the marriage to your mother because your
grandfather planned for him to take over eventually, right?”

Calisto
cleared his throat, settling back into his relaxed posture with an indifferent
attitude rolling off him in waves. “I see you’ve been doing your research.”

“You
told me to.”

“I
did. Find anything else interesting about the Donati history?”

Emma
shrugged. “No. Why, should I have found something?”

Calisto
didn’t answer her.

“So,
I guess Affonso must have been the main father figure in your life, huh?” Emma
asked.

Calisto’s
jaw tensed. “You could say that.”

“How
would you say it?”

“I
wouldn’t say a thing at all,” Calisto muttered. “Not for Affonso.”

Ouch
.

Calisto’s
tone could have frozen steel with the coldness it held.

“I
had my grandfather for a few years, but he died when I was starting into my
preteen years. I don’t remember much about him, because he didn’t have much to
do with me.” Then, he nodded at the dress shop. “Hurry up. Your mother is
waiting, I imagine. Grit your teeth and get it over with.”

“I
still don’t want to.”

Calisto
smiled sadly. “Yeah, I know, Emmy. But hey, if you get through it without too
much of a fit, I’ll let you take me on another round on the casino floor
tonight. Drain my pockets again. I’ll sneak you a couple of drinks.”

And
that right there was exactly why Calisto was such a mind-fuck for Emma. She didn’t
understand his intentions, his motives, or why he sometimes seemed like maybe
he actually gave a shit about her.

He
had nothing to gain.

Neither
did she.

But
you have nothing to lose
, her mind taunted.

“Well?”
Calisto asked.

Emma
grinned. “I’ll take that deal.”