Page 19

CHAPTER 18

G iulia

It’s late evening when Piotr Reznov’s luxurious private jet touches down at Teterboro. He didn’t accompany me on the flight, something I’ll be eternally grateful for. I don’t think I could have coped with trying to make small talk with the terrifying Russian for eleven hours.

Though he didn’t disguise how reluctant he was to help me, he made sure I’d be taken care of. He arranged for his plane to take me home, agreed to contact my dad to have him meet me at the airport, and provided me with a change of clothing. It’s just a pair of black yoga pants, a loose-fitting white t-shirt, and white sneakers, but it was comfier to travel in than my wedding dress would have been.

Piotr also took care of the officials here and in Florence to ensure there would be no problems since I didn’t want to waste time by returning to the villa for my passport. I had no idea how soon Matteo would be back after his interrogations and I wanted to get away.

The flight was smooth and a beautiful blonde Russian attendant called Polina saw to my every need, not that I required much apart from a pillow and blanket so I could try to get some sleep. There was a bedroom on the plane, but I didn’t dare use it. Who knows what Piotr Reznov’s been up to in there?

With anxiety gnawing at my insides, I didn’t get much sleep. Matteo is going to be pissed that I ran from him. He’ll want to punish me and I’m not sure I can face that.

When I make my way down the steps from the plane, I’m relieved to see my dad’s Mercedes SUV waiting for me. He gets out of the car to greet me with a hug. He’s dressed, as usual, in black jeans and a black shirt. In his mid-forties, he’s still got an impressive physique.

“What’s going on, kiddo?” His pale blue eyes are filled with concern as he pulls back from our embrace. “I was shocked when Olivia Volante called to tell me you were coming home from Italy.”

I’m glad Livvy phoned him and not Piotr. Hearing from a Bratva leader that I’d been halfway across the world would have freaked Dad out even more.

“Can we talk in the car?”

“Sure.”

Before I take a single step, Polina calls out to me.

“Mrs. Volante.” She comes down the steps from the plane with my wedding dress draped over her arms. “You forgot this.”

Any thought I had of hiding the news of my marriage to Matteo just flew out of the window. My dad gives me a quizzical look as I take the dress from Polina.

“Thank you,” I say tightly.

“My pleasure.” Polina turns and struts back to the plane. My dad’s eyes follow her the whole way. The woman is incredibly attractive. If Piotr ever gets Livvy onto his plane, she’ll hate Polina on sight. One thing I know about the Volante princess is that she hates sharing the limelight.

While my dad’s distracted, I hurry around to the passenger side of his car and get in. My dad lingers on the tarmac for a moment and then gets behind the wheel. He looks at me, waiting for an explanation. “Mrs. Volante?”

“Can we just drive?” My voice is weary.

My dad purses his lips, displeased, but he starts the engine anyway. He’s done awful things in the Volantes’ name, but he treats me with as much care as he’s capable of. Even if he’s not happy with my lack of an explanation, he won’t push me. For the first ten minutes of our drive back to the city, he says nothing.

“I married Matteo,” I blurt out when the silence becomes too much to bear.

He nods, having already guessed that much from Polina calling me Mrs. Volante and the white gown that couldn’t be anything but a wedding dress.

“Did he force you?”

“No, I chose to marry him.” It’s a half-truth. Although my choice wasn’t entirely free, I opted to go along with Matteo to save myself and my family from his wrath.

“Thank god.” Some of the tension is released from his shoulders. “So what happened? Why are you here alone?”

“There was a shooting at the church.”

Dad slams on the brakes. I throw a hand out to brace myself on the dashboard as the car skids to a halt. He turns to me, his expression betraying horror.

“You were there?”

“Yeah, but I’m okay.”

Despite my reassurance, he huffs out what might be a sob and pulls me into his arms. He strokes my hair. “My poor girl.”

After a minute, this unexpected show of affection becomes awkward so I wriggle out of his hold.

“I’m fine, Dad, I promise you. The men who attacked us came off worse.”

“I’m sorry you went through that. A sweet girl like you shouldn’t have to witness such things.” Anger flares in his eyes. “Where is Matteo? He should be by your side, not leaving you to fly all this way alone.”

I don’t bother to point out that I made it all the way to Italy on my own so returning that way was no big deal.

“They took a couple of enemy soldiers alive. He wanted to question them himself.”

My dad nods approvingly. He’s always respected the Volantes’ willingness to get their hands dirty. They never ask their men to do things they wouldn’t themselves.

“So, he sent you home?”

“No, I needed to get away. I didn’t tell him I was leaving.”

Dad’s jaw clenches. “Did something happen?”

I shake my head. “I’m just making a point.”

“Giulia. You can’t play games with a man like Matteo Volante.”

“I can handle Matteo.” Even to my own ears that lacked conviction. “Better than I could have handled Johnny Lombardi.”

It’s a low blow, but right now I am pissed at the men in my life constantly trying to take control from me.

“Giulia…” His tone is apologetic, his face stricken.

“Why did you marry me to Johnny?” I ask. “Was it just because you hoped to further your career?”

As he turns away and restarts the engine, which stalled when he screeched to a halt, I think he’s going to refuse to give me an answer. He releases the parking brake and drives off.

“Valeria owed him money.” He speaks quietly, his hunched shoulders betraying his shame. “She likes to shop.”

‘Likes’ is the understatement of the century. The woman lives for designer clothes, purses, gaudy jewels. I never imagined she was spending so far beyond my dad’s means that she’d resort to borrowing money from one of his mob brothers.

“I see.” My jaw clenches. “And you couldn’t think of another way to pay him off?”

“Johnny wanted your brother to fight to clear the debt, but he wasn’t ready for a death match.”

“So, it was Phillip’s life or mine?”

He bows his head in shame. “Johnny wouldn’t have hurt you.”

“No, he wouldn’t because Matteo warned him off.”

Dad glances at me, his eyebrow cocked. “I thought he’d step in, offer for you himself. Why didn’t he?”

I shrug. “I guess he didn’t see me as wife material.”

“But he does now?”

I spread my hands out. “Evidently.”

“He’d better treat you right.”

“He will.”

At least I hope that’s the case. Leaving Italy the way I did is going to piss him off. He might carry out his threat to keep me locked away.

“Good.” Dad nods. “Now, tell me, Giulia, when are you going to fix your hair?”

It’s such an unexpected change of direction, I can’t help laughing.

“Soon,” I tell him, relieved to be off the topic of my marriage. “Very soon.”

I wake early, surprised I slept at all. When my dad dropped me at my apartment, I had a quick shower and changed into my pajamas, intending to go straight to bed. Instead, I sat on the sofa in my tiny living room for hours, trying to work out how I feel about Matteo. He’s my husband now and in our world ‘until death parts us’ is not a token phrase. The words carry meaning. There are consequences for trying to escape them.

As the hours dragged by, I almost convinced myself I’d overreacted by leaving Italy the way I did. I love Matteo. Our marriage could be harmonious. It’s not as if we don’t get along well, most of the time. Then I remembered how he rode roughshod over my objections to marrying him so soon. I never imagined he’d threaten me and it still hurts that he did. Getting past that might not be so easy.

When I finally went to bed, it took me forever to drift off and I don’t feel particularly rested this morning. Regardless, I get up and prepare to go out, dressing in jeans and a black t-shirt in case I need to do any work at the community center that will involve getting messy. I left a few tasks half-finished before I went to Italy. Antonio told me to let Dante know what needed to be done, and I gave him a list, but I don’t know if he got around to arranging for the work to be completed.

On arrival at the center, I find the doors locked. There’s no sign of any contractors on site. I open the doors and walk through the building, discovering that Antonio was true to his word about getting the work completed while I was away.

My office, which was an empty shell, is all set up with a desk, chairs, computer, and the pictures I bought to brighten the space have been hung on the wall. The counseling suite is ready for use and the kids’ playrooms are also good to go. Shelves have been put up in the room I intend to use as a library and study space. There are no books yet, but that’s okay. I told Dante I’d take care of that myself.

The kitchen wasn’t on the list of things I wanted to be completed, but when I walk in, I’m amazed to find it’s in ready-to-use condition. There are industrial ovens, stainless steel tables for prepping food, and dozens of cabinets in a light gray wood. A fancy coffee machine I don’t remember ordering sits on the countertop. It probably requires a trained barista to operate it. Deciding it’s too complicated for me to figure out before I’ve had a caffeine fix, I head along the corridor, intending to go to the coffee shop down the block.

I’m almost at the front door when it swings open. My heart thuds furiously as Antonio Volante walks in, wearing his usual inscrutable expression. Does he know about me and Matteo? Is he angry with me for running from his brother? Fear surges through me as he advances on me, then dissipates just as quickly as my friend, Isabella, enters a few steps behind him.

“Giulia!” She greets me with a warm smile.

“Izzy.” Uncertainty creeps along my spine. It’s been over a year since I last saw the woman who was once my closest female friend.

“I told you to wait with Dante until I was sure it’s safe.” Though Antonio’s tone is scolding, there’s no denying his glare softens as his wife comes to his side. He wraps an arm around Isabella as his eyes scan the corridor behind me.

“It’s just me here,” I assure him.

“No bodyguard?” he growls. “What are you thinking?”

I shrug. Having someone to protect me isn’t something I’d even considered. I’ve never been important enough to be targeted before.

“Don’t bully your new sister-in-law.” Isabella steps away from Antonio and throws her arms around me. “Welcome to the family, Giulia.”

“You heard?”

“We did.” Antonio fixes me with an intimidating stare. “What I want to know is why you arrived last night on Piotr Reznov’s plane without your husband by your side.”

Isabella releases me and spins around to face Antonio. She puts a hand on his chest. “You didn’t come here to interrogate Giulia.”

She purses her lips and inclines her head in a way that tells me she’s pressing him for an answer. It’s amusing to see her face off against the intensely scary head of the Volante organization like this, but I wouldn’t dare smile. She might not have reason to be afraid of Antonio, but I’m not so lucky.

Something passes between them, and he sighs. “No, I didn’t.”

“What did you come here for?” Curiosity gets the better of me.

“To tell you there will be a hefty donation in your bank account by the end of the day, a reward for a job well done.”

That can only mean one thing. “He’s coming home?”

Antonio nods. “Later today. Is that a problem for you?”

I shake my head.

“Because I was thinking,” Antonio continues, “that there must be some issue, something that made you run from him. Something serious enough for you to turn to the fucking Bratva for help.”

Isabella puts a restraining hand on his arm. “Antonio?”

“No, Bella,” he says firmly, “if this hasty marriage is going to fuck us all in the ass, I want to know now.”

Does he think Matteo’s done something that would cause me to turn on the family?

“I would never betray Matteo.” Even if he’s being an asshole, I couldn’t bring myself to harm him. “No matter what.”

“So he has done something?” Isabella knows me too well. She can no doubt hear the quiver in my voice as I hold back tears.

“I… eh…”

Suddenly overwhelmed with emotion, I can’t find the words to respond to her. A tear rolls down my cheek, followed by another. Then the floodgates open. This has been a long time coming. I’ve been holding myself in check forever, since my dad first told me he’d arranged my marriage to Johnny, in fact. That hit me hard, as did losing my husband on our wedding night. I might not have wanted to be Johnny Lombardi’s wife, but it was still a shock to be widowed like that.

Matteo made the whole thing worse with his cruel comment after the funeral and then when I finally forgave him for that, he let me down again with his threats. It’s too much. I don’t have the energy to pretend everything is okay anymore.

Isabella wraps her arms around me as Antonio makes a discreet exit. I guess the sight of a woman crying is too much for the big bad mafia boss to deal with. She lets me sob on her shoulder for a minute and then leads me into the nearest room, which luckily has a comfy sofa for us to sit on.

“How about I make us a coffee?” Isabella asks.

“Uh, yeah.” I wipe away my tears. “There’s a machine in the kitchen, but it’s pretty fancy. I don’t know how to use it.”

“That’s a present from Emilia,” she says. “The café at the Vicente Hotel has one that’s the same.”

“She gave me that?” I’ve never even met Alessandro’s wife. “Why?”

“When I heard Antonio blackmailed you into going to Italy, I told the girls and we decided to do something nice for you. Vinnie and I finished the playroom and bought some toys. Emilia didn’t really have time to pitch in because she’s so busy at the hotel, so she sent the coffee machine over.”

“Wow, it’s really sweet of you all to help.”

“We Volante women need to stick together.”

“But I wasn’t a Volante when I left.”

Isabella smiles. “It was always going to happen. Antonio knew if he sent you to Matteo, his brother would finally get his head out of his ass and realize he had someone worth coming home for.”

My mouth drops open. She can’t be saying what I think she is. “You’re telling me the head of the biggest mafia organization on the East Coast was playing matchmaker?”

Isabella nods. “In his way. It worked, though. You married Matteo, didn’t you?”

“Not willingly.”

“Shit, Giulia.” She grabs my hand and squeezes it as she scans me from head to foot. “Did he hurt you?”

“No.” I can’t help scowling. Isabella should know Matteo better than that. He’d never physically harm me. “He was just an asshole about it.”

Isabella flashes me a sympathetic look. “Do you want out of the marriage?”

We both know that’s an impossibility in our world. “That’s not really an option.”

“I could talk to Antonio.”

I appreciate her offer, but she’s only been back with Antonio for a few weeks after her yearlong exile and I don’t want to be the cause of an argument between them. I shake my head.

“It will work out okay.” I try to sound certain about that, but Isabella’s frown tells me she’s not convinced. “Why don’t we go grab a coffee and you can tell me how things are going with Antonio?”

It’s an obvious deflection, but Isabella allows it. I’m relieved when she nods and gets to her feet. As I follow her to the kitchen, I can’t help asking, “How did you reconcile with Antonio after he exiled you like that?”

Isabella shrugs. “He helped me deal with a horrible situation.”

Matteo told me what happened with Rico Mancini, but I don’t tell Isabella that. If she wants to confide in me about killing the man who attacked her, she can do it in her own time.

“And?” I prompt.

“And I realized despite everything, I still love him. I don’t know if I’ve entirely forgiven him for sending me away, but the good in him outweighs the bad. I can’t imagine life without him.”

I guess that’s what I have to decide. Can I picture a future that doesn’t involve Matteo?