Page 59 of Empire of Seduction (New York State of Mafia #2)

“Okaaaaay,” I said slowly. “I don’t see how this is relevant, though.”

“Don’t you?”

I pressed my lips together, thinking. “I asked Vito to compromise. He wouldn’t consider it. He wouldn’t listen when I told him what I wanted.”

“And what is it that you want?”

“A partner. Someone who doesn’t lie and evade and keep me in the dark all the time.”

He nodded, like he understood. “My brother has made a plan for how a future might look between you. Unfortunately, he often can’t see outside his plans. If you want a life with him, you must demand the life you want. Make him readjust his plans. Or . . .”

“Or, what?”

“Or let him go. If you love him, then fight for him. If you don’t, then disappear from his life and never come back.”

I didn’t know what to say. My chest burned as I stared through the glass at the acres of dirt that used to be my vineyard. I still ached for the loss of it, but the last few days had given me time to think. Everything lost in the fire could be replaced. Replanted. But people were irreplaceable.

What if Vito had died in that fire?

I could admit that I missed him. I missed his cappuccinos and the dirty words whispered in my ear. I missed his glasses and quiet strength. I missed sitting in the hot tub with him. I missed the way he kissed me—like I was his air.

Losing both my parents tragically had taught me that life was short. Disaster could strike at any moment, so you had to live without fear. Without shame. And if there was a chance to have the life I wanted and have Vito . . . .

“We’re not finished. I’m trying to tell you that I want a future with you.”

Maybe Enzo was right. Maybe Vito did love me.

“If you don’t want him,” Enzo said, “then you are out of his life permanently. Forever. You don’t deserve him.”

“I never said I didn’t want him,” I snapped. “I’m thinking. Jesus.”

His mouth twitched. Had I amused him?

Enzo stood and looked down at me. “Just don’t think too long. My brother and I will return here in three days for business. If you want him, tell him then.”

Vito was returning to Paesano? It couldn’t be related to the winery, because Vito had relinquished his rights. Then I knew. It was the motorcycle gang. Vengeance for the fire.

Straightening, I blinked up at Enzo. “I don’t want him to get hurt.”

Enzo let out a derisive sound that was almost a snort. “A few stronzi in fake leather are no match for us.” He turned and started walking toward the kitchen. “Now I must go and see my other brother. I hope you make the right decision, signorina.”

Vito

Mafia funerals were a pain in the ass. I stood outside the Mancini mausoleum, shaking hands, the cold stinging my skin.

Limousines and dark SUVs lined the curves in the cemetery.

The Mancini sisters, who’d wept openly during the interment, were now departing with their husbands.

I wished to leave as well, but there were more bosses and underbosses to greet.

“Don D’Agostino,” an older man said as we shook hands. “I am Don Regilio. I knew your father. He was a great man.”

I nodded, though we definitely disagreed on this description.

“He was so proud when you boys were born,” Don Regilio continued.

“We had a lot of fun together in the old days.” Then he launched into a story about how he and my father stole women from the Russians and sold them for profit.

Thank fuck Paloma wasn’t standing next to me at the moment.

She would very likely snap this misogynistic dinosaur in half.

“Thank you for coming, Don Regilio.” I looked up to find his guard—and my eyes caught on Maggie Fiorentino standing on the path, Paloma at her side.

I stopped breathing, unable to look away.

Maggie .

She was here. At the cemetery. Fuck, I’d missed her. The sight of her gorgeous face, now pink with cold, only reminded me of what I’d lost, and my chest pulled tight.

Don Regilio droned on, even though I was no longer paying attention. Instead, I was focused entirely on Maggie. She nodded at something Paloma said, then started toward me.

I had to get to her. I had to find out why she was here. Had she come alone? What was Paloma thinking, allowing Maggie here? Nearly all the men in the vicinity were murderers and criminals . . . .

I went into motion, hurrying down the line of men still waiting to greet me, shaking hands in a flash. When I reached the end, several of the men tried to corner me, but I ignored them.

I headed directly to Maggie.

Stopping when we were barely an arm’s length apart, I paused.

I needed to get her someplace safe, to protect her from curious stares, but I was lost in the brownish-green depths of her eyes.

There was no way to escape their pull, not when I’d been so desperate for her these past few days.

I soaked in every bit of her face—the slope of her nose, the lashes framing her eyes.

Her soft lips that I loved to kiss. The hint of freckles on her cheeks from working outside.

“Hi,” she said softly, squinting against the overcast sky.

I cleared my throat. Twice. “What are you doing here?”

“I was hoping we could talk and Paloma said this was the best time. I’m sorry if I interrupted.”

“It’s fine. I have a bit of time before the reception at the compound.” Then it hit me why she was here. This had to be about the winery. I dragged a deep, freezing cold dose of reality into my lungs. “I don’t want it back. And if you’re here to ask for more money?—”

“Vito.” She held up one gloved hand. “For the last time, I’m not interested in your money. And this isn’t about the winery.”

“What is it about?”

“Can we talk?”

Other than the mausoleum, there wasn’t anywhere private at the moment. “Would you like to sit in my car?”

“Sure.”

Without touching her, I guided her to the SUV idling on the path directly behind the mausoleum. When Tommaso saw us coming, he climbed out from the driver’s seat and opened the back door. “I’ll stay close,” he said as Maggie climbed in.

I shut her in and went around to the other side. Warmth greeted me as I settled into the leather and unbuttoned my coat. I angled toward her and waited. The silence was deafening.

She bit her lip, her gaze doing a sweep over my features. “Why did you do it?”

“Do, what?”

“Give us the winery back?”

I lifted one eyebrow. “I thought you said this wasn’t about the winery.”

“Answer the question, please.”

Annoyed, I stripped off my gloves and tossed them on the seat beside me. “Why wouldn’t I? If I want a vineyard, I’ll buy one in my home country.”

“What happened to this being a business investment?”

I wasn’t sure what she wanted me to say. The past few days had been torture, an exhausting existence of work and little else. And I couldn’t second guess my decisions because nothing had changed between us.

But she wasn’t the only one with questions. “I saw what you wrote on the mirror at the penthouse. Why didn’t you tell me?”

She grimaced but didn’t look away. “It’s sometimes hard for me to express my feelings. I thought it would be easier to write it than to say it.” She shook her head. “Which is stupid, I know.”

“Not stupid at all. The words caught me entirely by surprise. That was when I knew I had to return the winery to you.”

“I don’t understand. If you knew how I felt about you, then why let it all go?”

My fingers itched for a cigarette, but I resisted the urge.

“This life,” I said, gesturing to the cemetery, where men were still gathered, talking and swapping stories of violence and greed.

“Is my life. It will never change. There is no escape. You find this repulsive, so I wanted to make a clean break. Give you a chance to rebuild your life free from this one.”

Her forehead wrinkled, like she was confused. “I said I find living in your penthouse like a mistress repulsive. Did you think I meant you?”

Now she was splitting hairs. “It is the only way to make this work.”

“I know you don’t believe that.” She took off her knit cap and rumpled her hair. “Your brother Enzo came to see me.”

“What? When?”

“You didn’t know?” When I said nothing, she continued. “He and Paloma came to the winery yesterday morning.”

During the funeral home calling hours, damn it. No wonder they’d both disappeared. “I wasn’t aware.”

“Paloma was there to drop off the paperwork, but your brother pulled me aside for a chat.”

I was almost afraid to ask. “To say?”

“That he and Gianna Mancini somehow make their relationship work, even though she’s out doing her thing.”

Ah, now I could see where this was headed. “First, he does not share the details of his business with her. Second, I am not my brother. He lives in chaos. Thrives on it, actually. As does Gianna. They take risks every day that I could never chance with—” I clamped my lips shut.

“Never chance with, what?”

The truth tumbled out. “With someone I love. You are too important to me. I should’ve known the Red Raiders would be stupid enough to retaliate. Yet I did nothing because I was distracted. I didn’t plan for the inevitable. And I would rather lose you than see you hurt by my negligence.”

“Do you mean it?”

“I never say anything I don’t mean.”

“Do you still love me, then?” When I didn’t answer right away, she bit her lip again.

“Because I love you. I don’t know how it happened in such a short amount of time, but god, Vito.

” She put a hand square on her chest. “I haven’t been able to breathe since you left.

And I wish I’d told you how I felt sooner. ”

Something thudded in my chest—low and warming—like a cold engine coughing to life. She deserved honesty from me in exchange.

“What I feel for you,” I said quietly, “is frightening, a terrible storm in my very ordered life. I hate it. I’m not sure I can control it, and if I could scoop it all out of my chest, I would.”

Slowly, Maggie reached over and placed her hand atop mine. It was warm and soft, but strong. “I don’t want you to get rid of it. I want us to suffer together. Maybe by giving in, we can turn this awful misery into something beautiful.”

My mouth dried out and I stared down at our hands. “I don’t want to bring pain and suffering to your world. Seeing you hurt, the devastation after the fire, it still haunts me, bella.”

“Oh, Vito.” Her fingers squeezed. “Some things are worth the risk. You are worth the risk to me.”

“You don’t mean that. The vineyards?—”

“Are just plants.” She gave a dry laugh. “I can’t believe I’m saying that, but it’s true. Yes, they are living organisms, but they aren’t you . Plants can be replaced. You can’t.”

I peered at her, trying to weigh everything she was saying against the worst-case scenario. “What if you are the one they hurt? You can’t be replaced, angelo mio. Not to me.”

“You said you can protect me,” she said with a small smile. “And you never say anything you don’t mean.”

Diavoletta mia, throwing my words back in my face. My chest swelled, an unfamiliar emotion filling me. “You have to be sure, bella. Because once you say yes, you belong to me again.”

She edged slightly closer, her mouth crooking with mischief. “And what would that look like, belonging to you?”

“It might look something like me taking you into that mausoleum and fucking you hard and fast.”

Her chest rose and fell a little faster as her breathing picked up. “I didn’t mean sex. I meant our lives. What would being with you look like?”

“Are you willing to move to Toronto?”

“No. Are you willing to move to Paesano?”

My upper lip curled. “Fuck no.”

“I didn’t think so.” She stroked my hand with hers, almost like she was petting me. “But it’s only a forty-five-minute flight.”

“So, we go back and forth?”

“Would that be so terrible?”

No, it wouldn’t. It was similar to what Enzo and Gia did in the beginning of their marriage. This could be done. Even if I didn’t like it.

And it didn’t need to be forever.

But it didn’t address the communication issue. “And you will be okay with not knowing some of the more unsavory aspects of my life?”

“Yes, if you promise to tell me if one of those unsavory aspects affects our lives.”

This was fair. “Yes, I promise.”

“He’s willing to compromise,” she said, her voice growing thicker as we drew closer to one another. “I like this. Anything else?”

“I insist on building us a proper home on the winery grounds. Something safe.”

“Of course, amore.”

Madre di dio, that word on her lips. It was like a starting pistol firing in my brain.

I lunged across the seat and grabbed her face in my hands, diving in to kiss her.

I caught her mouth with mine and thrust my tongue past her lips, needing to taste her.

I wanted to inhale her, to drink her in like a man dying of thirst. She kissed me back just as eagerly, her fingers pulling on my coat to bring me closer.

Then I had her in my lap, arms holding her close as she shoved her hands in my hair.

I closed my eyes and let myself drown in her. I focused on her breath on my skin. The swirl of her tongue against mine. Our noses brushing. The warmth of her body atop mine. It was both a reminder and a promise, and I knew I was the luckiest man alive.

Because I had a lifetime of this ahead of me.

She eased her mouth along my jaw, hovering near my ear. “I have to ask—were you serious about the mausoleum?”

A dark satisfaction rolled through me . . . and I reached for the door handle.