Page 23 of Depths of Obsession (The Emerald Dagger Mafia #2)
CHAPTER 23
I pull the dress down over my head and adjust it, examining my reflection in the mirror. Fear and dismay twist into a frightening knot in my stomach. I don't know what I was thinking when I grabbed this dress at my apartment. Was it really only a few nights ago? It seems like a lifetime.
The dress is figure-hugging, and every dip and valley of my body is emphasized in a way that leaves nothing to the imagination. It also brings out the green in my hazel eyes, making them glimmer like jewels in the low light. It matches the earrings and necklace set Luca gave me for the wedding perfectly.
Who am I kidding—I know exactly what I was thinking . I wanted Luca to notice me. To want me. I wanted to stand out, to make his gaze linger.
But that was before.
Now I want nothing more than to blend in. Standing out at this auction is probably the worst idea imaginable. I want to fade away into the background like a shadow.
I look at the wedding rings on my finger. I’m married. I had been so confident when Luca was standing in the gazebo. I honestly thought Luca loved me. That we really were getting married for love. Taking a step back, and seeing reality, it’s pretty obvious he married me as a way to right a wrong that happened long ago. I am just a means to assuage his guilt.
I was an abject idiot to fall in love with him.
I shake my head at my own foolishness, biting my lip as I finish smoothing out the gown. It clings to me, defiant against my doubts. I slip on my sky-high heels, feeling even more conspicuous. Then, I gather my long hair, twisting it up into a loose chignon, leaving a few loose tendrils framing my face. It's a look that says "effortlessly elegant," but right now it just feels like a mask.
I check the mirror one more time, adjusting my makeup, making sure my lipstick is perfect. No smudges, no imperfection to be seen. My wedding dress is lying on the bed. Nico dropped off some clothes earlier saying he was sure Luca would want Rocco to go over the loft in great detail to make sure the cops hadn’t planted any listening devices or cameras or anything else.
As soon as the auction is over, I will leave and go to my mother. From there we will go somewhere. I have friends in the U.S., people who will let us stay with them if needed. Or maybe, just maybe, it’d be better to pick a place where I know no one, to start over somewhere completely new. We still don’t know who holds my father’s debts and I know they will not let it die with him. It’s better if we just go.
I have fake passports—two, in fact. When Mia asked me to make one for her, I decided to cover my bases too. I even got fake green cards for each identity, so I'm good to go. I have money stashed away—enough to live on comfortably for a year before things get tight. I just don’t have a fake ID for my mother. At least not yet. I grab my cell and text my contact. We always speak in code just in case.
Looks like it’s raining again. My mother needs an umbrella.
A reply comes back almost immediately.
Okay. No problem. I expect to be singing in the rain in no time.
I breathe a sigh of relief. He can get it done quickly. Singing in the rain means pay me the same way as last time. If his answer mentioned a yellow submarine, it would mean there was trouble, and we would have to figure out something different.
I stare at myself in the mirror again. The emeralds catch my eye. Are they even mine? Maybe, but I’m not sure I can keep them. I don’t want to be a thing that he saved to feel better about what happened in the past. I take off the necklace and earrings and leave them on my wedding dress. Instead, I put on my own smaller diamond earrings that my mother gave me when I graduated from law school.
I always knew it would come to this. No matter how much I tried to ignore the jeopardy I was always in, I’ve been aware of the inevitable. I kidded myself into thinking I could make a life here in Milano; that I could just be Pippa, free from my family’s baggage. But here, I will always be Pippa Dominici, daughter of Danillo Dominici, connected to the Valdici family mafia. The name carries weight and oh, so much baggage. I’ve grown tired of carrying the weight. If I leave, I can shed that skin. I can be anyone I want to be—a fresh start, a new life, a chance to be just me. No baggage. No shadows of a family I never chose. No wife of a man, a vampire, who married me to save me.
I square my shoulders, taking a deep breath, giving myself one last look. Then I turn on my heel and head out into the living area. “I’m ready,” I say, my voice firmer than I feel as I approach Nico.
“Good,” he mutters, without bothering to look up. He’s staring at his phone screen.
“What are you watching” I ask. I glance at the screens, catching sight of something familiar. “Is that the entrance to the Galleria?”
“Yes.” He nods, still staring at the screens. “Calaba is holding the auction there.”
“In the Galleria?” I can’t keep the surprise from my voice. “Seriously? How the hell did he manage to get permission to do that?” The Galleria is the oldest shopping mall in Milan. It’s not like the shopping malls in the US. It’s an astoundingly beautiful piece of architectural history. The fact that it was built in the eighteen-seventies and it’s still as gorgeous as ever and still a shopping venue is incredibly impressive.
“Not that hard for a guy like him. They hold functions there all the time when the mall is closed.” Nico scoffs, finally looking up. He runs his gaze down over me and his eyebrows go up. “You look…amazing.”
“Thanks,” I offer him a small smile to try and think of something to say. “I assume all the stores will be closed then?”
Nico shrugs as he stares at his screen once again, a hint of annoyance in his expression. “Probably, but he might open one or two, let the guests pick out some swag. This isn’t just Calaba’s auction, Pippa. It’s a grand event—a fundraiser for some so-called worthy cause. Guests are expected to donate major money. You need an invitation to get into the main event at the Galleria, and another, much harder-to-get invitation to the actual auction for the necklace.”
A new Prada or Louis Vuitton bag wouldn’t be amiss. This might be the last time I have an opportunity to get one for a long time. My father bought me a Louis last Christmas after we had a huge fight, and he slapped me. I’ve never used it. I would like to get one that doesn’t have a horrible memory attached. I lean forward, squinting at one of the screens. “Is that… is that George and Amal Clooney?” I ask, genuinely surprised.
“No idea.” Nico’s growl is impatient, and it’s clear my questions are starting to irritate him.
“Sorry,” I say, “I don’t mean to annoy you.”
Nico glances up again a bit of pink coloring his cheeks. “No, I’m sorry. It’s not you. We’re trying to get some surveillance set up for the auction and it’s not working.” He turns his head and points to the ear bud in his ear. “I’m on with Rocco.”
“Oh, okay.” There’s a weight lifted off my shoulders. I couldn’t take a whole night of Nico snapping at me for no reason. My bandwidth for bullshit is extremely narrow at the moment. “Well then, I assume we have invitations to both?” I ask, trying to keep my voice light.
“Yes,” he replies, “Ria came through and got us in.” He glances at his watch. “And we need to get moving.” Nico stands up, grabs his tuxedo jacket from the back of the chair, and we head out of the hotel room. We get into another Porsche, and Nico speeds through the streets of Milano towards the Galleria. He’s not as crazy as Luca but it’s still exhilarating, and fun. When was the last time I had fun? I can’t even remember. Not since Mia, Luna, and I moved back from the States. Life since then has been one tense moment after another, one crisis immediately preceding the next.
We make the last turn before reaching the Galleria and come to a screeching halt. Cars are piled up in every direction, a chaotic mess of headlights and horns.
“Shit,” Nico curses under his breath, pulling out his phone. He speaks rapid-fire Italian, too fast for me to fully understand. I should know what he’s saying, but my Italian isn’t great. My nanny spoke Croatian, my parents spoke Italian to me but I spent most of my life in the States without them, so my Italian is limited to household chatter. The odd word makes sense, but his accent is unfamiliar, his voice clipped.
He hangs up, and I take a chance. “That was Italian, but I didn’t recognize the dialect. It’s not northern Italian.”
Nico gives me a small shrug. “I know a lot of dialects. I’ve been speaking Italian for almost four hundred years. The language, like everything else, changes but there are still a few of us around that speak the old dialects.” He falls silent again, and we inch forward in traffic.
“Time to go,” Nico says suddenly.
I blink at him, confused. “But… we’re still in traffic. The Galleria is just up ahead, but we’re stuck.”
Just then, a man approaches Nico’s door. Nico gets out of the car and signals for me to do the same. The man, a short, wiry guy with slicked-back hair, nods at me as he slides into the driver’s seat. I follow Nico out, the cold air biting against my exposed skin. He comes around, taking my elbow, his touch firm.
“What’s going on?” I ask, bewildered.
“Alfonso is going to park the car. We don’t have time to wait in this mess.”
I blink, stunned. Is there anything the Valdici men can’t do? Pulling a guy out of thin air just to park the car? It’s insane… and somehow so fucking sexy. I flash back to Luca protecting me outside my building, the way he made sure I was safe after he dragged me out of that hotel. The Valdici men are quite special. I feel a warm glow when I think about Luca and how he takes care of me.
“Please walk faster,” Nico urges, snapping me out of my thoughts. He’s hustling down the sidewalk, his hand still gripping my elbow.
And just like that, the bubble bursts. So much for being taken care of. “You try speed-walking in five-inch heels,” I snap back.
Nico glances at me and grins, his arm moving around my waist to guide me forward.
“Uh, FYI…pushing me isn’t helping!” I protest.
“Sorry Pippa, but if we don’t make it in time, we’re going in blind,” he says, his voice tight.
“What are you talking about?” I huff, trying to keep up. Nico, of course, isn’t even winded.
We finally reach the Galleria, and there’s a line of people waiting at the entrance. Frustration is evident in the set of Nico’s shoulders, but there’s nothing we can do except wait our turn.
I glance up at the arched entrance, marveling at its beauty. Sometimes I forget how stunning the architecture here can be. The entrance, with its high ceiling and intricate stone carvings, is breathtaking. The entire Galleria is an architectural masterpiece—the iron and glass roof, the ornate details, everything about it is exquisite. It’s beautiful and grand, and I can see why it’s the chosen venue for this kind of event.
“ Buonasera, Signore, Signorina ,” the doorman says, his voice polite, a small smile on his face. “ Invito, per favore .”
A cold sweat breaks out across my back. Nico said he had an invitation but panic bubbles in my chest. I would feel immensely better if Luca were here. Nico reaches calmly into his coat pocket, pulling out a piece of heavy cream-colored paper. The doorman smiles, checks his iPad, and nods, stepping aside to let us pass.
The air hisses out of my lungs as we step into the hallway. I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding my breath. Of course Nico had an invitation. I should know by now that the Valdici men don’t get into things they can’t get out of.
Nico guides me through the crowd, and I reach out and snag a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. I down it and put the flute back on the tray of another waiter as we cut through the crowd.
“I have to go watch where we think the auction is going to take place so we can figure out who the competition is. Stay right here. You should be perfectly safe, okay?”
“Okay,” I say but he’s already lost from view. “Well, shit.”
I glance around. I’m in the middle of the Galleria standing on the Turin Bull mosaic. There’s an old tradition that says if you put your right heel on the bull’s testicles and spin around quickly three times without tripping then your wish will come true or it will bring you good luck. I have to say I’m tempted. I need all the luck I can get, and I really wish we can get the necklace and I can get out of here. I do not want to be here any longer than necessary. I keep envisioning someone coming up to me and asking how I’m going to pay off my father’s debt. Being with Luca has kept me out of reach but now I’m out in the open, exposed. Anyone can approach me. Just the thought of that makes me queasy. I need more champagne.
Glancing around I see that the doors to Louis Vuitton are indeed open. Calaba is letting people pick their own swag. I wonder how much these people have donated to get an invitation to this event. It must be in the millions. Could be why there’s not a line at LV or even Prada which is across the way. “Don’t mind if I do,” I mumble to myself. I’m not passing up a new Louis Vuitton bag. That would just be stupid. Plus, I glance down at my clutch, I deserve a new bag with all the shit I’m going through. Something to cheer me up.
I start in the direction of the store only to be grabbed by the arm. I whirl around expecting it to be Luca and instead Marcello, my old boss stares down at me. “What the fuck are you doing here?” he hisses at me.
I glance around, making sure no one is paying any attention. “I could ask you the same thing,” I snarl back, keeping my voice just loud enough to be heard over the din. “I thought you would’ve found some other hole to crawl into by now.”
“I told you before I was going to attend the auction.” He looks around too. “The real auction.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “You do not have a hope of getting the necklace. You don’t have that kind of money.”
“Don’t I?” he says sneering at me. “You don’t even have an invitation to the auction so you aren’t going to know what happens.”
My stomach rolls. “So why don’t you tell me then. I know you want to. You can’t resist the opportunity to brag. Besides, Gazzago is going to kill you just for lying to him about having the necklace to begin with let alone not being able to produce it.” I don’t think Gazzago gives a shit at the moment, but Marcello doesn’t know that and I owe him one. Big time.
“I’ve smoothed things over with Gazzago. It’s all taken care of.” Marcello is practically preening.
I’m getting nauseous. “What the hell did you do?” I demand.
His smile frosts my blood. “I found a benefactor who was more than happy to give Gazzago his money back plus a bit extra. We’re square. He got payment for his cousin’s death.”
“Wait,” I say, “you have his fifty k already.” Marcello’s smile grows right along with my fear. “You lied to your benefactor and she, because it has to be a woman. No man would fall for your shit. You told them the money was gone so they paid Gazzago back and then some but you get to keep the original fifty k.”
“I always knew you were smart.” He smirks. “When it comes to money.”
“Who is your benefactor and what the hell did you promise them?”
Marcello merely offered me another cold smile. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” With that he disappeared into the crowd.
“Shit, shit, shit,” I mumble to myself. Where the fuck is Nico? Or Luca? Is he in jail? Whatever Marcello is planning, it’s going to clash with the plan. The outcome of this auction decides the fate of three lives and Marcello De Carlo is going to screw it all up.
“Pippa.” Luca’s voice cuts through the noise of the crowd.
I turn to see him. Relief floods through me.
His eyes land on me, and he stops in his tracks, his gaze trailing slowly down my body before snapping back up to meet mine. The air shifts, and my breath catches in my throat. His eyes are darker, a deep emerald, and they seem to glow from within.
A shiver runs down my spine. In that moment, I feel like prey, with Luca as the predator—a hunter about to pounce. I’ve never felt more alive, or more terrified.
“You look… delectable,” he says, his voice rough, the word rolling off his tongue like a promise as he comes to a stop in front of me. He steps closer, his presence overwhelming, his heat wrapping around me. My skin tingles, and I have to crane my neck to meet his gaze. “I almost like this better than your bra and thong,” he murmurs, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Almost.” He leans in, brushing his lips against my cheek before moving past me.
“Thanks,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. My mouth is dry, my heart hammering. This is going to be a long night. Luca looks like some kind of dark god in that tuxedo, and being near him is going to be pure torture. I blow out a breath, trying to steady myself. “Um…Marcello is here,” I blurt out. “He is representing someone who really wants the necklace. I’m afraid he’s going to ruin everything.”
“Don’t worry, little one, we’ll deal with Marcello. I need you to stay here. I have to work with Nico and Rocco to set up surveillance. His knuckle grazes my cheekbone, the touch so gentle it makes my heart ache. “Don’t worry, cara . You’ll be safe. I promise.”
There’s something in his voice, something raw and genuine, that makes me believe him. His touch, his words—they unlock something inside me, lifting some of the weight I’ve been carrying. It’s been so long since I felt this… light.
Luca disappears into the crowd and with him my feelings of euphoria. My heart aches. I’m in love with my husband and yet, somehow, that’s a bad thing. I come crashing down to earth with a thud when I catch a glimpse of Marcello with the woman I recognize as Ria Tailor. If she’s his benefactor, it’s going to get ugly. I don’t want or need any more ugliness. Maybe I should find Luca and Nico.
I look around again but I don’t see them. I don’t see Marcello either. What I do see are the doors. This is my chance. Calaba’s not going to auction off a fake. These people would kill him. I have the papers I need. I glance at my watch. If I hurry, I can still rent a car and head to Switzerland. I don’t need to be a part of this anymore. Luca and Nico don’t need me here. I can call Luca later and…deal with everything.
Time to go. I start heading toward the door. Please God, let me get out of here and away from Milano in one piece. Let me start over somewhere else, somewhere new where I won’t have to worry about marriage and debt. I approach the door and smile at the man who let us in. “I?—"
A hand grabs my arm. I whirl around and come face to face with the devil himself.