Page 57 of Empire of Seduction (New York State of Mafia #2)

Mikey just laughed as he sauntered out the front door.

Vito

Chaos filled the compound.

I was in my office, trying to revise some security details for tomorrow’s funeral, while the house was filled with families of all ages.

Loud people named D’Agostino, Ravazzani, and Buscetta were every which way I turned.

They’d arrived over the last two days from Paris, Siderno, Palermo, Napoli .

. . and everyone was staying here because this was the safest spot in Toronto.

I wasn’t sleeping or eating, mostly smoking as I reviewed the plans again and again, making sure I hadn’t missed something. All I wanted was peace and quiet, but there was none to be found.

Roberto Mancini had served a long time in the ’Ndrangheta and was due a tribute, which fell as my responsibility. So there wasn’t any part of the upcoming weekend without my fingerprints on it. A lot of eyes would be on me and my city. Everything needed to be perfect.

At least concentrating on the funeral distracted me from everything else.

“Your version of a future is repulsive to me.”

I rubbed my eyes. Four days and those words still stung. It would get better when I could sleep. When the house wasn’t full of nieces and nephews, brothers and babies and rival mob bosses.

Thirsty, I reached for my glass on the desk, only to find it empty. Pushing back from my desk, I stretched my sore muscles and decided to go to the kitchen for a drink.

As I walked through the mansion, I could hear my teenage nephew arguing with the much-younger Rafaelle Ravazzani over some video game. A small child wailed somewhere on the second floor.

In the kitchen a lot of people were gathered around the massive island, their conversation hushed.

Fausto Ravazzani held his sleeping seven-month-old daughter on his shoulder.

Fausto’s other daughter, Noemi, was lightly touching her baby sister’s forehead, a look of wonder on her face, but when she saw me, she moved closer to her mother, Frankie, who was busy at the microwave.

At the other end of the kitchen island, Emma Mancini Buscetta cradled her napping daughter in her arms while flipping through what looked like a medical textbook. Nicoletta, my niece, had her arm around Gia Mancini’s shoulders and the two of them were looking at something on a tablet.

Frankie glanced over at me. “Hey, Vito.”

“Ciao.”

I started for the refrigerator when Fausto asked, “How are the arrangements coming?”

“Secure. Everything is ready.”

“Enzo wants to see you,” Gia said, looking over at me. “He said to send you to the library when you resurfaced.”

I sighed and took some sparkling water from the fridge. I didn’t want to deal with Enzo, but he was still my brother. Was this about security? He’d been up my ass the past two days about having enough guards.

In the library Enzo and Giacomo Buscetta were smoking cigars and chuckling over something. “Glad someone is having fun,” I muttered and lowered myself into a chair.

Enzo blew out a mouthful of smoke. “Don’t worry, fratello. This will all be over soon.”

The funeral had nothing to do with why I was miserable, but I didn’t bother saying it. “Have you seen Paloma? She’s not answering my texts.”

“She went to buy a new dress for the funeral.” Enzo put his feet up on my coffee table. “How much are you sleeping?”

“Enough.”

“Not from what I hear. Paloma is considering drugging you to let you rest.”

“If she does, she’s on the first flight back to London.”

My brother snorted, while Giacomo silently smoked. I reached into my suit pocket and took out my cigarettes and lighter. When I lit one, Enzo frowned at me. “I thought we discussed this.”

I inhaled and let the smoke fill my lungs. The nicotine worked quickly, easing the knot pulling behind my eyes. I exhaled slowly. “Fuck off, il pazzo ,” I said, using Gia’s nickname for him, madman.

“You will quit after the funeral.”

Giacomo, don of the Cosa Nostra in Palermo and Emma Mancini’s husband, cracked a small smile. “This is cute, this squabbling. I always wanted to murder my brother.” His grin grew wider as he shrugged. “Then he was murdered, thank fuck.”

Courtesy of Giulio Ravazzani, Fausto’s eldest son.

I said, “You should know Giulio and his ragazzo have arrived.” Giulio and his boyfriend, Alessio Ricci, ran criminal operations in Málaga, Spain. Alessio was a famous sniper who’d once shot Fausto Ravazzani, which added to the family drama during this funeral.

“Good,” Giacomo said. “I have some questions for the sniper.”

“This fucking weekend,” Enzo snarled at the ceiling. “Everyone I hate in one place.”

“You didn’t have to come,” I reminded him. “Gia told you not to.”

“Where she goes, I go. And my kids insisted on coming to be with her. So I am here.”

The door opened and my sister walked in, shopping bags in her hands. “Ciao,” she said to the room, then looked directly at me. “Good to see you out of your office, fratellone.”

“Dai, Paloma.” Enzo scowled at her. “I should be your favorite brother. Who paid your bills all those years?”

Paloma kissed the top of my head. “But Vito doesn’t bark and snarl at me like you do.” Then she went over and kissed both his cheeks. “Don’t worry, I still love you, Enzo.”

Giacomo excused himself to check on Emma and the baby, and Paloma dropped into the vacated chair. “Che cosa? Are we hanging out here and smoking all day?”

“I would rather not breathe the same air as Ravazzani, if I can avoid it,” Enzo explained, as if we weren’t already aware.

“And some of us are working,” I said. “Everything is set at the cemetery. I expanded the perimeter with security.”

“I told you that wasn’t necessary,” Paloma said. “And you’re going to drop from exhaustion, Vito.”

I continued to smoke, not responding. I didn’t need anyone worrying after me.

Paloma and Enzo exchanged a look, then my sister tapped her manicured nails on the armrest. “Did you sleep last night?” she asked me.

My voice went hard. “Stop treating me like a child, both of you. I don’t want to fucking sleep and I don’t need to quit smoking. Mind your own fucking business for once.”

Enzo’s feet dropped from the coffee table. He sat up straighter. “I haven’t punched you in a few years, fratello, but you are dangerously close at the moment.”

Paloma put her hand on Enzo’s arm, but kept her gaze on me. “This isn’t about the funeral. This is about Maggie.”

“No, it’s fucking not,” I said.

“Then cut ties with her and return the winery to them.”

My upper lip curled in disbelief. “I’m not keeping the winery as a link to her. I’m keeping it because it’s a good business investment.”

Both Enzo and Paloma laughed. In my face. “Vito,” Enzo said through his chuckles. “Not even you can believe such a thing. If you want a winery as an investment, there are at least five successful properties in Toscana for sale.”

“I will have it rebuilt. The damage will be fixed.”

Paloma said, “Even still, that winery is a terrible investment and it’s obvious you’re hanging on to it for her. To keep tabs on her. To tie the two of you together.”

I lit another cigarette and took a deep drag.

They were wrong. This was about building an empire.

“They will send me a list of what they need to rebuild and I will wire them the money.” My siblings exchanged another look and everything inside me went hot.

“Why the fuck are you two looking at each other like that?”

“Because we don’t believe you,” Enzo said. “You know this place was shit before it was destroyed. Now it’s a pile of rocks. In America .” He made a face. “Not to mention the family hates you. Cut your losses and move on.”

“Unless . . . ” Paloma let the word drift off.

“I’m not keeping the winery as some pathetic excuse to talk to her. She made her position clear the last time I saw her. I’m dealing with only the brother from now on.”

Paloma sighed and threw up her hands. “Fine. Live in denial. Torture yourself and her by keeping the winery.”

More voices erupted from the hallway, loud even through the heavy wood door. I rubbed my forehead. My temples were now throbbing.

“Vito, why don’t you go to the penthouse,” Paloma suggested. “We’ll keep an eye on everyone here.”

“This is a good idea,” Enzo said. “Maybe the peace and quiet will let you sleep.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but their expressions darkened.

I knew I couldn’t win, not when they were united like this.

And truthfully, I needed to get away from my siblings—and this crowd—for a bit.

“Good idea. I’ll go now.” I stood and pointed to my brother.

“Don’t kill anyone tonight while I’m gone. ”

He gave me a shark-like smile. “I make no promises, fratello.”

Quiet greeted me an hour later when I stepped inside the penthouse. The knot behind my shoulder blades eased ever so slightly as I hung up my long coat on the rack. As the guards disappeared into their wing, I headed to the bar.

A stiff drink was in order.

I reached for a random bottle, then paused as one caught my eye. The bourbon-whiskey. The one she bought me in the casino. A knot formed in my throat, heavy and thick. Forcing it away, I reached for a different liquor, one without memories.

It tasted like shit.

Still, I threw it back and poured another glass. Maybe getting drunk was the cure for my sleeplessness. I dropped onto the sofa and stared through the glass. The terrace mocked me with memories, however. Dio, that night had been so fucking hot.

“Want to fuck out here?”

And when she’d taken off all her clothes out there? Mamma mia.

I drew in a shaky breath, the reality of what I’d lost sitting painfully in my chest. Maybe coming to the penthouse was a bad idea. I hadn’t been here since Maggie broke things off. I even canceled the cleaning crew this week because . . . I couldn’t bear for the sheets to lose her scent.

I dropped my head into my hands. I was an idiot.

Fuck it. I put my glass on the table, returned to the bar, and wrapped my fist around the neck of the bourbon-whiskey bottle. I’d drink it in the shower, then fall into bed. On sheets that hopefully still smelled of her.

Plan made, I took the stairs two at a time. My bedroom was exactly as we’d left it. The imprint of her head remained on the pillow, the sheets tangled from her legs. I missed sleeping next to her, feeling her soft skin against mine during the night.

Sighing, I carried the bottle into the bathroom, ready to shower and wallow in my misery.

I stopped in my tracks, the bottle dangling from my fingertips. Lipstick on the mirror shouted at me, a message left behind from our night here.

MAGGIE LOVES VITO

There was a little heart drawn beside it.

I couldn’t breathe.

My knees wobbled, so I put the bottle down and braced myself on the counter, my gaze never leaving the dark red capital letters. She loved me?

Why hadn’t she told me?

I would have, I don’t know. Told her I felt the same for starters. But what difference would it have made? I still had to lie about the Red Raiders and she still would’ve found me repulsive. There was no changing how opposite our lives were.

“I want someone I can trust, someone who isn’t always hiding shit from me.”

She asked the impossible. Mafia men were required to keep their work separate. I would never have a wife who served as a confidant. It was too risky. I had to lie and evade, otherwise I might die. Worse, other people might die. I couldn’t risk her life with the truth.

“Your version of a future is repulsive to me.”

My plans for our future couldn’t be separated from what I did for a living, which meant I was repulsive to Maggie. Not my body, obviously, or my face. But deep down, inside? I disgusted her. She hadn’t said it outright, but the message couldn’t have been more obvious.

And who could blame her? I was a murderer and a liar. A danger to anyone who came too close. She was better off with someone normal. A boring man with a boring job.

So why was I hanging onto the winery?

I stared at the words on the mirror and looked for answers. The idea of giving back the winery and never seeing her again was like a blade through my sternum. I didn’t want to do it. I couldn’t stand the idea of . . . . Cazzo .

My siblings were right. Deep down, I was hoping to win her back. It was why I kept the winery. I was hoping to change her mind, like a fool.

But it was pointless. Her feelings had been made clear on the subject of our future. I loved her, but Maggie didn’t want the life I could offer her and wishing otherwise was pointless. The sound of my breathing echoed in my ears as the truth sunk in.

I knew what I had to do.

What my pride and common sense demanded I do.

I pulled out my mobile and tapped the glass. When my sister answered, I said, “Return it. Give them a sizable amount to repair the damage and all the rights back.”

“Finally,” Paloma said. “You’re reasonable.”

Reasonable, yes. But it still hurt. “Grazie, sorellina.”

“Wait, Enzo needs to speak with you.”

I sighed as she passed her mobile to my brother. Enzo wasted no time, saying, “We found them.”

I didn’t need to ask who he was talking about. His computer guys had been searching for the Red Raiders. “Where?”

“I’m not telling you. You’re not going before the funeral.”

Grinding my back teeth together in frustration, I checked my watch. “If I leave now, I could get back before calling hours at the funeral home tomorrow morning.”

“Forget it,” Enzo said sternly. “We’ll deal with this after the funeral. And I’ll go with you. I’ve been itching to get my hands dirty these past few months.”

I stared at the words written on the mirror, the lipstick confession she left behind.

Maggie might not love me any longer, but I loved her.

That would never change—and I would always protect her.

Her safety came before anything else, even my happiness.

“I can’t risk waiting two days. They might return to the winery. ”

“They are hours away and Benetti’s men are already watching them,” Enzo said calmly, as if this were obvious. “If the bikers make a move, we’ll hear about it. Let’s get through the funeral, capisce? Then we’ll go and slaughter those stronzi.”

Rubbing my jaw, I debated this. Tomorrow my city will be flooded with ’Ndrangheta bosses. It was my responsibility. I couldn’t be in two places at once. Cazzo! I slapped the marble countertop with my palm. “If something happens to her . . . ”

“Don’t worry, fratello. Everything will work out.” He disconnected.

Yes, it would. But only because I would oversee it. I would double check with Benetti, ensuring he had enough men dedicated to the task. I would also inform the security team at the winery. Only when I was assured of her safety would I rest easily.

I left the bottle, the shower. The bed. All of that would need to wait. I had more work ahead of me tonight.