Gun Moll (17 page)

“Yeah, it’s not
bad,” she said.

“It’s not a
Mercedes or a Porsche, but it’s a damned good car.”

Melina arched a
brow. “How much money do you have under the hood? Because I would be willing to
bet that regardless of what a car looks like on the outside, it’s what is
inside that counts. Am I right?”

Mac shrugged. “You
might be, doll.”

In fact, she was bang
on. He had as much money under the hood of his Challenger as he did in the
purchase of the entire car. It was better people weren’t aware of that fact
until they needed to know.

“So,” Melina
drawled, turning her head to watch the highway fly by out of the passenger
window. “Is there anything I should know about tonight? Rules, or whatever?”

“Yeah, there’s a
bit.”

“I’m listening,
Mac.”

“Respect, doll.
That’s it. That’s everything. Nothing else matters, nothing else is acceptable.
Only respect.”

Melina pursed her
lips. “To who?”

“Anyone in that
mansion. They’re there for a reason. They got there either because of their
last name, what they’ve done for
la famiglia
, or how close they are to
the boss. It’s that simple. No matter how much you might dislike someone,
you’re not to outwardly show it unless they disrespect you in a very obvious
way. And even then …”

“What?”

“Even then, you
let me handle it.”

Melina scoffed.
“Is it some kind of woman thing? Because I have a uterus, I can’t stick up for
myself?”

“No, it’s a Cosa
Nostra thing,” Mac replied quietly. “It’s a respect thing between men and their
women. That’s all, Melina.”

“Oh.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Anything else I should
know?” Melina asked.

Mac eyed her from
the side, taking in the slinky silver dress she wore. It draped over her
shoulders, half on and half off, and hugged her curves perfectly. It showcased
the delicate line of her throat and collarbones, decorated with a silver,
low-hanging necklace.

Melina was all
woman. Every inch of Mac knew it.

“Smile, Melina,”
Mac said.

“Smile?”

“Beautiful things
tend to stand out in a room, and as much as you might want to blend in, you
never will. You deserve to be admired and envied. I’m incredibly lucky to be
the man showing you off tonight.”

Melina sucked in a
quiet breath. “Thank you.”

“Clearly, you’re
not told how beautiful you are nearly enough.”

“Not like that,
Mac.”

She’d said those
words to him once before.

“I still think
that’s a shame, doll.”

“All your charm is
a dangerous thing, Mac.”

“It can be.” Mac
took an exit ramp when the GPS directed him to turn. “Another few minutes and
we’ll arrive. There is something else I should mention, Melina.”

“What is that?”

“Earlier, when we
were talking about my sister, I avoided something. I might not be able to avoid
it tonight. You see, way back when I was a kid, my uncle, Marco, was a family
Capo. The Maccari family had a longer leg in the mob when he was alive.”

“Why do I hear a
‘but’ in there?”

“But,” Mac added,
chuckling dryly, “my uncle was killed in a street war. He was the one thing
that kept the Maccari family present and noticed. He was influential enough in
his position that he was capable of wiping away the mistakes of his younger
brother.”

Melina frowned.
“Your father?”

“If that’s what
you want to call him, then sure. Mostly, I just refer to him as ‘James’ or I
don’t refer to him at all. He’s a drunk, and he’s got a taste for street women
and coke. When I was younger—maybe five or six—he wasn’t so bad. He had his
shit under control while my uncle was alive, for the most part. Then, Marco
died and nobody gave a shit. James went downhill fast. He only came around
enough to make it look good for
la famiglia
.”

“Why would that
even matter?” Melina asked.

“Because family is
everything.”

“You told me that
earlier.”

Mac smiled, but it
felt forced. “I did. I meant it, too. My father, however, only used his family
when he needed to, so that his Capo would think he was on the up and up with it
all. No matter what James tried to make it look like, he was still a fucking
fool on the streets. Drunk, high, and screwing up every other day. I don’t know
how he’s even still alive. My mother worked her ass off doing two jobs, feeding
and clothing two kids, and trying to keep her house afloat. The moment I could
start helping out, I did. But the only thing I knew was where I came
from—mafia.”

“What does this
have anything to do with tonight, Mac?”

“Sons follow their
fathers, Melina. That’s what is believed in this world. You are only as good
and as honorable as the man you came from.”

“And yours is
shameful.”

“Very shameful,”
Mac murmured. “I often take shit for my father.”

Melina glanced
down at her hands resting in her lap. “Is that why you go by Mac? I mean, the
cop called you James earlier, and the other one called you Maccari. You go by
Mac.”

“Yes. That’s
exactly why.”

“You don’t know
that anyone will say anything about your father tonight. You didn’t have to tell
me this, you know.”

Mac disagreed
entirely. “Maybe you’re right, but I wanted to. You want to trust me, doll.
That’s what you said.”

“It was.”

“I’m simply
helping that along by sharing. My father is just one of the reasons that being
invited to this dinner has me nervous.”

Melina laughed
lightly. “You don’t seem nervous.”

“Don’t mistake
poise for boldness, Melina. They’re two entirely different things. I’ve been
waiting for a night like tonight for a very long time. I’ve been kept at arm’s
length from the boss and anyone even remotely close to him because of my
father’s history. This is the closest I have ever been to Luca, and I would
prefer not to fuck it up somehow.”

“This is it for
you, isn’t it?” she asked softly.

“Hmm, what?”

“The mob—Cosa
Nostra. This is all you want to be.”

Mac didn’t even
have to think about it. “Yeah, it is.”

M
elina had seen
plenty of wealth in her former career as an escort. Some of her clients had
been multi-millionaires, while the rest toted bank accounts that certainly
weren’t anything to scoff at. Fancy cars, massive homes, private jets, and
more. Melina had seen it all.

She had never seen
anything like the Pivetti home.

Actually, that was
kind of a joke. It wasn’t a home. It wasn’t some large, two or three-level
structure with a big garage, a large yard, and a couple of nice cars in the
driveway.

No, not at all.

The four-level
structure sported what looked like three massive wings, a garage that was big
enough to be a small warehouse, stonework from the bottom of the walls to the
roof, and windows that were as large as an eighteen-wheeler. Specialty lighting
put the decorative walkways on display. The long, winding driveway was lined
with birch trees. The doors to the garage were wide open and the lights were
on. It showcased the highest luxury of cars on the market in a rainbow of colors.
All-terrain vehicles had been lined up in one of several sections.

The place rested
on a private section of land that, guessing by the length of the driveway, had
to be a few acres. Situated on the outskirts of the city in an expensive,
private suburb, the Pivetti home was not at all what Melina had expected.

It dripped in
money.

She had thought that
maybe it would be a large home—something worthy of a crime boss—but certainly
not this.

“Oh, my God,”
Melina mumbled, staring up at the structure before her.

Her gaze caught
the dozen or so security cameras that were visible in eaves and over doors. No
doubt, someone was probably watching their vehicle. She was thankful for the
dark-tinted windows keeping them from view as she gaped like a fool. It was
only then that she noticed the black-clothed men standing in inconspicuous
locations. Guards, likely.

Melina didn’t know
what to think.

“Close your mouth,
doll.”

Her jaw snapped
shut. “This place is huge.”

Mac put the car in
park, eyeing the home. “I’ve never seen it up close before, but I’d heard
stories about it. I’d seen a couple of pictures, but nothing more. My
imagination didn’t do it justice, I can tell you that.”

“It’s … what is
it?”

“Excessive.”

Melina
wholeheartedly agreed. “It’s a little ostentatious for a crime boss, isn’t it? Isn’t
the whole point of your business to stay under the radar? Nobody is saying he
has to live in the slums, but this is …”

“Excessive,” Mac
repeated with a chuckle. “Luca Pivetti comes from old money. Keep that in mind.
His grandfather’s father had a large share in one of the biggest banks in the
USA. He also has a huge ownership in the casino market in Vegas, and a few
overseas real-estate endeavors in Europe. So yeah, the man might be a crime
boss, but he’s also a major business man with some very legal ventures.”

“I can smell the
money from here.”

“Oh?”

Melina crinkled
her nose for show. “Smells like entitlement and arrogance.”

Mac laughed hard.
“Keep those thoughts to yourself when we’re inside, doll.”

Jesus Christ.

She hadn’t even
thought about the inside of the home.

“Please tell me
the floors aren’t paved in gold and the wallpaper isn’t made of diamonds or
some nonsense,” she said.

Mac shrugged. “I
have no idea.”

“Great.”

“But let’s go find
out.”

Even better
…

Melina’s coat and
clutch were taken from her by the waiting staff the moment she stepped into the
home. The quiet woman who bent down to wipe the soles of Melina’s heels wore a
gray uniform, trimmed with white and comfortable looking black shoes. Confused,
Melina allowed the woman to clean her heels as she watched a man do the same to
Mac.

“Thank you, Miss,”
the woman said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Mr. Pivetti welcomes you to
his home to celebrate his youngest daughter’s eighteenth birthday with a dinner
and party. Enjoy the evening, and please find one of the help if you need
anything. We’re happy to serve you, ma’am. Follow the hallway to the entrance
where the staircase is located. Another staff member will be waiting to direct
you up the right staircase to the second level where the rest of the guests are
in the ballroom.”

Ballroom
?

There was a
ballroom in the fucking place?

The man who had
cleaned Mac’s shoes stood and recited the very same thing to him. Melina raised
an eyebrow in Mac’s direction as the woman scurried away into a connected room
with the man right on her heels.

“What was that?”

Mac looked as
confused as she did. “What wealth can buy?”

Melina didn’t
think so. Those people didn’t feel like normal house staff. Usually, maids and
so forth were not as robotic and stiff. Sometimes, they even smiled. Those
people had done neither.

It felt all wrong.

Glancing down at
her dress, Melina asked, “Am I underdressed for a ballroom?”

“No,” Mac
answered. “According to Guido, it’s where Luca entertains for dinners and
parties. It’s big enough and it keeps everyone in one place instead of
wandering his house. I guess the boss gets pissed as hell when people snoop.”

Taking in the
large foyer that had expensive art and tapestries on the wall, and the marble
floor beneath their feet, she wasn’t surprised that Luca didn’t allow people to
wander. In the middle of the room, a silver statue of horses rearing back that
was nearly as tall as the ceiling rested below a glittering chandelier full of
crystals.

Probably
one-hundred percent real crystals.

Overwhelmed,
Melina took it all in in silence.

“Come on, doll,”
Mac said.

Melina allowed him
to guide her down the hallway. Painted photographs lined the dark-wood walls.
Gold plaques under each named the individual or individuals in the paintings.
At the very end of the hall, Mac stopped and nodded at the final two paintings.

One was a man who
Melina recognized, sitting alone in what looked to be a library. Short, dark
hair combed neatly to the left and the large ring on his right finger caught
Melina’s eye first. With brandy glass in one hand, a cigar in his other, and steel
gray eyes staring out at them, the man in the painting seemed cold and distant.
His posture was straight and stiff in the large leather chair he rested on. His
wealth surrounding him made him seem almost unobtainable—untouchable.

Luca Pivetti.

Melina knew his
face from the photographs the detectives had shoved at her.

“Whoever painted
that has a knack for putting reality into art,” Mac muttered.

“I thought you
never met the man?”

“I haven’t, but
I’ve heard enough.” Mac nodded at the second painting. “His daughters.”

Melina took in the
second painting, noting the three women standing around their father with an
ornate, massive fireplace behind them. All of the girls were beautiful and
young. The oldest probably couldn’t be much older than twenty-five, at the
most. What stunned her most about the girls were the color of their skin.

Dark caramel, like
hers.

“I didn’t know his
wife was …”

“African, yes,”
Mac said.

“African only?”

“South African
with an Italian-African father, actually. Diamonds are a huge trade, you know.
Luca’s father got mixed up in that mess and in the process, met a man that
might have been a little more dangerous than even he was.”

“Luca’s wife’s
father?”

Mac smirked. “Good
guess. Her father had dual citizenship between Africa and Italy. He spent the
majority of his adult life in Africa running diamonds.”

Melina’s gaze
narrowed. “Blood diamonds?”

“I think so.
Anyway, when a deal went south between Luca’s father and the diamond king, a
deal was struck, a marriage happened, and it’s been quiet going ever since.”

“An arranged
marriage?”

Mac eyed her
before saying, “It’s actually not uncommon in this lifestyle.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. She came
over here to the States and they married. They had three girls. Cosa Nostra
overlooked the fact she was only half-Italian, seeing as how the Italian came
from her father’s side.”

“No sons?” Melina
asked.

“Rumors say
there’s a son or two in
la famiglia
that belong to Luca. Mistresses for
mothers, or so the story goes.”

“You seem to know
a lot of the story.”

Mac’s hand slipped
into Melina’s before he pulled her alongside him to walk again. “I wanted to
know the man I was meeting. So let’s do that, doll.”

The second Mac and
Melina were directed into the ballroom, Melina found the person who the
talking, laughing, and dancing people probably considered the most important
man in the area. In the middle of the very spacious room, a marble fountain of
naked women had water spouting from the ladies’ outstretched hands. Sitting on
the edge of the fountain with his ankle crossed over his knee and a glass of
red wine in hand was a laughing Luca Pivetti.

The man was
surrounded by men and women alike. They looked on at his laughter with their
own as drinks were poured and servers moved from person to person with plates
of finger foods in hand. The moment Luca stopped laughing, the people around
him quickly followed suit. With a wave of his hand, the people scattered away
from him. Luca stood as a young girl dressed in a pink chiffon dress came up
beside him. Standing on her tiptoes, she kissed his cheek and Luca patted hers
in return. Melina recognized the girl instantly as one of Luca’s daughters in
the painting.

He was clearly
commanding. He owned the space. He was important.

Melina learned all
of that in just a few quick seconds.

“I thought this
was supposed to be a birthday party-slash-dinner?” Melina asked Mac.