Malavita (20 page)

“Prove it.”

“The
polizia
could test your hands. The residue clings for a time.”

“You would hide behind the
polizia
?”

Carlo’s face went red right to the roots of his black hair. “I settle my own scores.”

“And you expect any less from me?”

Carlo held Enrico’s gaze for some minutes, then he said, “Is my daughter that undesirable?”

The question took him by surprise. “It’s not that. You know it.”

“Do I? That insult of a ring says otherwise.”

“Insult? It’s far more than most women get.”

Carlo shook his head. “But it’s not
the
ring. You’re holding it back. Maybe there’s another girl. One in England, perhaps?”

An icy knife lanced Enrico’s gut. “Of course not.” He summoned his anger. “Whether I want this marriage or not has nothing to do with your daughter, and everything to do with you and what you’ve done to my family.” He spat at Carlo’s feet and stalked away. Oh
Dio
, let him have been convincing.

If Carlo started digging, there was every possibility he’d unearth Nico.

Antonella fought back tears as she hurried away from the others. She headed for the terrace where Enrico had tried to kiss her on their first date. It was private enough to give her a few moments to settle her nerves.

If
that was possible.

Everything Enrico had said to her last night—had he meant any of it?

The ring was lovely, but it wasn’t the one he
should
have given her. Though perhaps that was his father’s doing, and who could blame the man? In any case, she’d expected too much.

She was looking at the ring when she heard a tread behind her. She looked over her shoulder, expecting Enrico, but saw Dario instead. He gestured at the ring. “That pig.”

“I’m sure Enrico had no control over it. His father—”

Dario snorted. “Has he charmed every bit of sense out of your head? Are his kisses that special? He
insulted
you, and everyone knows it.”

“It’s a far more expensive ring than Papà gave Mamma.”

Dario put his hands on his hips and glared at her. “Nothing I say is getting through to you.”

“Stop it, please. Just—” She held up a hand, suddenly weary. “Just stop, Dario.”

Her brother advanced until he was only centimeters from her. He tapped her on the side of the head. “
Think
, Toni, instead of living in a damn fairytale. He is
never
going to love you.”

She said nothing and turned her face away, not wanting Dario to see how close he was getting to her biggest fear.

He tapped her head again. “What will he think of you when he discovers your part in this?”

She went cold all over, as if she’d plunged into Lake Como in the middle of winter. “He’s not going to find out.”

“
I
think he should know.”

She clutched at his shirtfront. “Don’t you dare.”

“It would be for your own good.”

She couldn’t keep the tears from forming. “I love him, Dario. Please.”

He studied her face for several long moments, his own a stony mask. Then he closed his hands around hers. “I
should
tell him, but I’ll let you do it. He’ll take it so much better coming from you.”

He dropped her hands and strode away, heading back up the hill to the house. He passed Enrico coming down. Enrico addressed him, and Dario said nothing, though he did turn his head to look back at her. For a long horrible moment she wondered if he’d tell Enrico, but Dario had never broken his word to her, and he didn’t now. He might be the most difficult sibling in the history of the universe, but she could still count on him. He loved her—that was one thing she knew without a doubt. Maybe the only thing.

Concern etched Enrico’s features as he drew near. “Why were you arguing?”

“He’s upset about the ring.”

“So is your father.” He scanned her face. “And so are you.”

“Rico, I’m fine. It’s a lovely ring.”

A shutter came down over his face. “You and I need to talk, now. But not here. I don’t want anyone overhearing this.” He took her arm and steered her farther down the hill to a gazebo wreathed in climbing roses. It was closed off on three sides and so would give them some privacy.

Her heart fluttering, she took a seat on the bench that ringed the interior, but he remained standing.

He crossed his arms and stared down at her. “My mother’s ring shouldn’t be available—and it
wouldn’t
be available if it wasn’t for your father. No Andretti will
ever
wear that ring.”

A mix of emotions flooded her. “Is that how you’ll always see me—an Andretti first?”

“Honestly, I don’t know.”

Her heart went from fluttering to frantically beating against her ribs. “I thought you were starting to—” She snapped her mouth shut. Saying those words was dangerous.

“To love you?”

She barely dared to nod, her breathing so fast and shallow she thought she might faint. And then she said something that made her wish she would. “I thought you were feeling the same way I was.”

“
Cristo
, Toni. You always go right for the jugular.” His voice was thick with emotion. What was he thinking? A muscle worked in his jaw and his eyes blazed.

“It’s how I feel,” she said. “I won’t apologize for it.”

When he turned his back to her, her anger flared, until she realized his shoulders were shaking.
Dio mio
. Rico was crying.

Toni had just told him she loved him. He should be happy. He should be telling her the same. But Enrico couldn’t. Another emotion had control of him, and he couldn’t hold it back any longer.

He barely had time to turn around before the tears came. Hot, scalding tears. Mamma should be here on this day. Primo should be here. Mario should be here.

He’d tried to be happy, to forget. But Carlo Andretti—
he
was here. He was still alive. And he shouldn’t be.

Toni came up behind him, slipped her arms around his waist, and hugged him close. “I’m sorry, Rico. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

He couldn’t answer for a second. He sniffed tears back, then took a deep breath. “It’s not you, Toni.”

She let go and stepped in front of him, placing her hands on his crossed forearms. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

“I miss them.” That simple admission left his throat raw.

“Oh Rico.” She wrapped her arms around him. He embraced her tightly, the tears flowing again, even harder, until his body was wracked with sobs.

Dio
, he was such a child, sobbing like that, but somehow Toni made him feel safe. Like she understood. Like she’d always be able to.

Finally he got a handle on himself. “I don’t know what came over me,” he said.

“It’s natural. You told me you’d never cried for them. It’s got to come out some time.”

“Today wasn’t the best choice.”

She caressed his jaw. “I’m glad I was here for you. That you weren’t alone.”

A lump formed in his throat. “Me too,” he managed, but it sounded strangled. He searched her face, her beautiful, beloved face, and said the words that rose up in his heart. “I love you, Toni.”

Her eyes glistened. “You do?”

“I thought you already knew,” he teased her.

She smiled. “I thought so, but I didn’t dare believe I was right.”

“Pretty gutsy to tell me first then.”

Her smile broadened. “So you would have said it first if I’d said nothing?”

He shrugged. “Maybe.”

With a shake of her head, she shot down that notion. “I doubt it.”

“You’re probably right.” He chuckled.

She tapped the center of his chest. “You men are so afraid of how you feel. It’s enough to drive a girl mad.”

He raised a brow at her. “And
you
never do anything exasperating?”

“Never.” Her eyes twinkled. “Ever.”

He leaned down and kissed her, meaning to keep it light, but she felt so good, her breasts crushed up against him, and when her lush mouth opened to his, he couldn’t ignore the invitation.

Spinning them around, he pinned her to the wall near the start of the wraparound bench, her back against a post. He slid a hand down to her buttocks and tilted her hips forward, but she wasn’t tall enough to get good contact that way.

Didn’t matter—he had plenty of other delights to enjoy. He kissed down her neck to her throat, then along her right collarbone. She writhed beneath his lips, soft moans catching in her throat, and she arched up, as if offering her breasts.

He started to push the strap off her left shoulder so he could bare her to his mouth, but something stopped him. He’d ruined Veronica’s life by following his selfish desires. He couldn’t do the same to Toni. If he failed, if his plan didn’t work, if the marriage didn’t go through, he didn’t want her chances at happiness with someone else ruined.

He pulled back and stepped away from her, his
cazzo
practically screaming “
idiota
!” at him. But it was the right thing to do.

She looked up at him with dazed eyes. “Don’t stop.”

Was
Dio
testing him? Sure felt like it. “We should go back to the house.”

“It’s all right, Rico. We’ll be married in two weeks.”

“No. What if your father caught us? I won’t give him an excuse to ruin this.”

She nodded. “You’re right.”

He took her hand and kissed it. “Just so you know, this is killing me.”

She rubbed a hand against him, making him groan. “I can tell.”

“Evil girl. You’ll pay for that later.”

She winked at him. “I hope I do.”

Where had
this
girl come from? He didn’t know, but he liked her. “If that’s a challenge, I’m taking it.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a lingering kiss. “Oh, it’s definitely a challenge.”

He pinched her butt and made her squeal with laughter, then chased her back up to the house, Carlo’s icy stare for once not dampening his mood. He was in love with his bride-to-be, and
Dio
willing, he’d get to show her how much on their wedding night.

Enrico and Dom had spent a couple hours after the engagement party strategizing about how to kill Luigi Gennaro. The man was certainly going to be on alert. On top of that, given Carlo’s suspicions, it was entirely likely that Carlo had given the man some backup.

Though he’d conducted the other three hits in the early evening or under the cover of night, this one needed to be different. Gennaro would be more vigilant at night, would expect Enrico to use the darkness in his favor. So he’d have to take a bigger risk and wait for early morning.

He’d left the lake around three AM and headed for Milan. If Gennaro were trying to stay awake, he’d no doubt be about ready to nod off by four. Besides, as sunrise approached, it was only natural for a man to shake off his fears and relax.

But that would be a mistake.

Enrico had downed several cups of espresso—almost enough to make him jittery. After the mistakes he’d made with Borelli and Ripoli, he’d nearly lost his nerve. But he couldn’t walk away now. Not when he was so close to his goal.

Not when Carlo knew it was him.

If he didn’t finish this, he’d never be able to look Carlo in the eye again. And the odds were good that Carlo would take that sign of weakness as an invitation to roll right over him—to eliminate the last of the Lucchesis, marriage or no marriage.

After his encounter with Gennaro less than two weeks ago, Enrico had tested his entry plan on Signora Passerini and found that the old woman would let anyone in without much hassle—as the backup manager, she was used to being buzzed by owners who’d lost their keys or kids coming home without their parents.

He donned a pair of gloves, then pressed the button beside 342. It was a shame he had to wake her at this hour, but it was the safest way into the lobby. Even at this hour, enough partygoers were wandering by that he might draw attention if he tried anything else.