Page 57 of His Wicked Wants (West Coast Mobsters #6)

CHAPTER 52

NERO

Julian is laid out on the sofa in the living room of the Retreat in a gold satin dressing gown with feathers around the neckline, watching Leo Bernardi carefully paint his toenails a matching sparkly shade. “This is very unfair, Sandro,” is the first thing he says when he sees us. “ Very unfair. As soon as I heard there was some excitement going on, I demanded to be carried up to the Manor on a reclining couch, and what do you think I was told?”

“I imagine you were told I’d forbidden you from attending,” Sandro says mildly.

“Exactly! Forbidden! But you let me come down on a stretcher and sit in the salon when I was much worse than this, back when I solved my mother’s murder.”

“That was quite a different circumstance. Julian?—”

But Julian isn’t finished. “So then I told Leo to carry me up, but he wouldn’t.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Sandro nods at the Lion, who gives him a tired smile.

“We’ve had a difficult morning,” Leo says, with a fond look at Julian.

“ We have been perfectly amiable,” Julian says, and then turns his pale eyes on me. “Well, well. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever see you alive again, Nero Andretti. And yet…”

“And yet,” I say, with my usual smile, though it feels hollow. Because I see now what I could not see before—Sandro and Julian, for all their differences and their checkered history, do care for each other.

Deeply.

La Contessa refused to consider the possibility, even when I raised it first, many years ago. My Alessandro hates that golden-haired bastard , she insisted. And if he doesn’t, it’s your job to make sure he does .

But despite all her efforts, and despite mine as well, there is a bond between them. This is brotherhood: messy, antagonistic, sometimes deeply painful. But impossible to deny, unlike the fragile, phony ties I tried so hard to build between Sandro and me.

“Leo, would you mind—” Sandro begins, but Leo is already standing and stretching.

“Tell you the truth, I could do with some fresh air. You behave yourself, eh?” he closes in a murmur, and leans in to kiss Julian on the top of his head before he leaves.

It’s just the three of us now. And looking at Julian Castellani, I can’t be sure that he won’t give me a dose of my own medicine—and lie.

“I want to ask you some questions about the invasion,” Sandro says carefully. “But you took many injuries. Can you remember the events clearly?”

“Oh, yes,” Julian says. “Quite clearly, Don Castellani.”

“Nero claims that he worked to benefit the Castellanis during the invasion. In fact, he claims to have saved your life.”

“Does he?” Julian tilts his head to one side.

I’m tired of his games. “Tell Sandro what happened, or tell him whatever story you want to—you and I know what happened.”

His lips quirk into something that is not quite a smile. He draws out the silence just a beat too long—just long enough for my stomach to tighten. “You can’t blame me for wanting some drama,” he says at last. “Life can be so dull otherwise. But, yes.” He turns to Sandro. “It’s true. Nero Andretti has saved my life several times, in fact. Like when you sent me to test him down at the port.” Julian chuckles at the memory, delighted with himself. “I said you’d issued a no-kill order, and I gave him an air gun with tranquilizer darts. But he followed instructions, Don Castellani. He kept me alive, and he didn’t kill anyone.”

“I’ve already had your report from that night,” Sandro says, and for the first time I hear impatience in his voice.

Grudgingly, Julian goes on, “He also saved my life during the invasion.”

“Julian took a bullet meant for Miller Beaumont.” I shrug when Julian gives me a look. “Sandro might as well have the full story. Your crazy brother here threw himself in front of an assault rifle to protect Jack’s boyfriend. I wouldn’t have believed it myself, but I saw it with my own eyes.”

“Since we’re giving out mutually-congratulatory hand jobs,” Julian says, “Nero saved me right after that. He came charging through the maze like the cavalry. And then he saved my life again, carrying me through the tunnel and into the Retreat.” He pauses. “I know you told me to board up all the secret passages in the house , Sandro,” he says carefully, “but you said nothing about the grounds. So technically?—”

“I know about your ‘renovations,’” Sandro says. “If I’d wanted to stop you, I would have. But I approved of your foresight, if not your methods. But you know, not everything you do has to be a secret from me.”

Julian frowns. “It’s much more fun, though,” he says. “Honestly, Sandro, you’re infuriating sometimes.”

“I did think about leaving Julian,” I say suddenly, throwing caution to the wind. “In the tunnel, I mean. Or letting him bleed out.”

“But you didn’t,” Julian says with interest. “Why didn’t you?”

My mind goes blank. I’m not entirely sure. “Because you’re Sandro’s brother,” I say at last. “Because it was the honorable thing to do.”

“You really think you can speak of honor?” Sandro asks.

But I’ve had enough. I know I’ll never win Sandro’s trust again—because I don’t deserve it. “I’ll call La Contessa right now,” I offer. “I’ll break with her in your hearing, let her declare me persona non grata just as you have, and then you’ll be free to kill me. Is that what you want, Sandro?” I hold out a hand for my phone.

Sandro shifts to remove the phone from his pocket and drops it into my palm—but then grabs my wrist. “Call her,” he says. “But tell her you succeeded. Tell her Julian is dead.”

Is it my imagination, or does a moment of understanding pass between all three of us?

I dial the number from memory and put the phone on speaker. La Contessa answers with her usual imperial tone. “What is it?”

“The bastard has been eliminated,” I tell her in Italian, without bothering to greet her. “And without suspicion. A natural-looking death.”

Her reaction is immediate. A gasp, and then a cry of joy. “At last!” she breathes out. “Well done, Nero. I was beginning to think you had failed in your duty. I’m delighted to hear the news.”

“But there’s a woman here, Ana?s Beaumont. She claims to know me.”

“And?”

“Do you know her? Did you send her to?—”

“Is this another one of your rabbit holes?” she asks, and the impatience in her voice is an echo of her son’s. “You’re wasting my time with these demands for intelligence. I’ve never heard of this woman. Now listen, your job there is complete. Come home as soon as you can. I have need of you in Rome.”

“Rome? That’s not what I was promised. What about my reward?”

She gives a scoff. “Reward? Your reward is serving faithfully. And as for money, you’re better paid than anyone else under my command. If you want more, you’ll have to earn it.”

“That is not the agreement we?—”

“I can’t be held responsible for some fantasy you had,” she snaps.

“It was no fantasy, signora . You promised me control of the eastern part of your empire.”

“Nonsense. Sandro is my sole heir, and while you’ve proven yourself a sound hand, Nero, you’re certainly not as clever as he is.”

And now Sandro speaks. “Actually, Mamma, you’re quite wrong. Nero is just as clever as I am—he’s played you perfectly, after all.”

There is a long moment of shocked silence. “Alessandro,” she says at last, a strangled note to her voice. “I…”

“Julian is alive, by the way,” he adds in English, and nods at Julian.

“Hello!” Julian chirps.

And then Sandro reaches over to hit the end call button. “I’m sorry you had to endure that in front of an audience,” he says to me.

I shrug. “It doesn’t matter at all,” I lie. “Of course, I never really thought she would…”

But I did. That’s the saddest thing of all. For a very long time, I thought that I could prove myself to La Contessa. That I could earn her love.

For some reason, I remember Gabriel laughing among the butterflies, taking delight in a spray of golden wings. That precious memory is something I could never have bought, not for all the money in the world. And Gabriel offers his love freely, asking only for honesty in return.

Something I’m only now learning to give.

Julian is staring from one of us to the other. “Well, I hope one of you is going to tell me what she was saying,” he says crossly. “My Italian is a little rusty these days, and when you’re all speaking so fast?—”

Sandro gives him a smile and pats him on the ankle. “My mother was just being her usual spiteful self,” he says. “But for once in her life, she’s tasted the bitterness of failure. I hope she savors it.” Sandro stands and beckons me with him. “We’ll send Leo back to you, Julian. Make sure you rest up. We have an empire of our own to build, after all, and I can’t do it without my brother.”

Julian beams. “A few days,” he says. “I’ll be back to do your bidding in no time at all, Don Castellani.”

On our way back to the house, my thoughts are jumbled, a mixture of shame, hope, confusion. “She will not be pleased,” I say at last.

“No, she will not.” Sandro gives a satisfied chuckle. “But she can’t blame you alone. I know she’s been back and forth to LA without telling me. And I know why—Anna-Vittoria Esposito told me herself months ago that my mother had been trying to broker a deal with the Espositos regarding territorial boundaries here in Los Angeles. As if I hadn’t already negotiated terms myself,” he scoffs. “And all of your conversations in grounds with Ms. Rochford—excuse me, Mrs. Bernardi now, I suppose— all of them were recorded. Didn’t you ever wonder why I was so happy to let her have her wedding here? She’s been a font of information.”

“It was very difficult to get that woman to be discreet,” I admit ruefully. “And what will happen to her now? Her Family has been decimated.”

“A significant portion decided they weren’t ready to work under a woman’s influence,” Sandro agrees. “Gino was not a very convincing figurehead. I don’t know what the Bernardis will do, but I know what I plan to do—hunt down every traitorous Bernardi and kill them all. Those left standing will be the real loyalists to Gino and his bride. It will be my wedding gift to them.”

“And PacSyn?”

“I thought I’d send Julian after them when he’s recovered. It will give him something to do. He’s dangerous when he’s bored.” I stare at him, and he laughs, admitting, “Actually, it was also part of my agreement with Anna-Vittoria. The Espositos have grown tired of PacSyn, but they still prefer to keep to themselves and stay out of open conflict. Julian can do their dirty work for them, and he will relish the opportunity.”

“You really are your mother’s son,” I tell him, and then add at his raised eyebrow, “It was meant as a compliment.”

“Do you think it’s an overreaction, snuffing these organizations out completely?”

“Not at all. I think it’s long overdue.”

He gives me a twisted smile. “I’ve generally found it’s best not to get mixed up in other Family dramas. The Castellanis have had enough of our own internally. But perhaps you’re right, Nero, and if you had been here to advise me, perhaps I would have chosen differently. I’m sorry that we had to sacrifice good men to get to this point—like Ventura.”

It hurts to think of Ray Ventura. “Have you told his wife yet?”

Sandro sobers. “Yes. I went to see her myself early this morning. I’ll make sure she’s taken care of for the rest of her life.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Ventura taught me a lot in the short time I knew him. About loyalty. About myself.”

“Difficult lessons to learn,” Sandro says.

We wander on. “Did you really know about the passage in the maze?” I ask.

“Of course. But Julian likes to have his secrets. Your Gabriel was right about that.”

My Gabriel. Mine . A possessive need thrills through me. “I will take Gabriel with me when I go,” I warn him. “If Gabriel agrees, of course. But I think he will. We—we are in love.” I say it almost defensively, as though Sandro is about to challenge me. But he just nods.

“I understand. But wherever you go, my mother’s crows will follow you. She doesn’t like betrayal any more than I do. Do you really want to put the man you love in such danger?”

“I need to speak to him,” I agree. “Explain what it would mean, to live a life on the run. But he has incredible courage, and I’ve never been able to stop him when he puts his mind to something. I don’t think I could keep him away from me, so it would be better to keep him close, protect him.”

“It’s easier to protect someone when you have others you can rely on. I discovered that myself during the invasion. The last thing I wanted to do was hide away in that pool house. But I knew that Jack and Pedretti and Raffi and Leo, even Bricker Soldano—and the others too, all of them—I knew I could trust them.” He stops, reaches out a hand to turn me to face him. “And I knew I could count on you, too. Only a small number of Castellanis died compared to our enemies. Still too many, but not as many as it could’ve been. And I owe that mercy in no small part to you, Nero.”

“As I said,” I mutter. “It was the only honorable thing to do. To stand with you and the Family.”

“And look at the reward you got for it,” Sandro says. “A banishment and a withdrawal of my protection. Perhaps you’re right, Nero. Perhaps I am my mother’s son—but I don’t want to be like her. I spent too long raging against Jack for no reason. So I hope you can forgive me for actions taken in anger, just as I choose now to forgive you for past sins.”

I blink, taken aback. It doesn’t seem to me that he’s taken everything into consideration. “But this Beaumont woman?—”

“Is a liar. The Bernardis would have no reason to use her knowledge of the grounds. They were swarming all over Redwood during the parley—that was the very reason Julian wanted to rearrange the maze, I assume, and why I let him. I’m not sure what Ms. Beaumont’s game is, but I know you weren’t involved. So again, I’ll ask you to forgive me—and more. To accept a place here in my Family, with no more lies or betrayals between us, and an honest effort to rebuild our trust in each other.”

I’m almost too overcome to give a response. At last I croak out, “It would be my honor, Don Castellani.”

He raises his hand a little, and I bow low over it—over the ring, the Castellani ring, a different insignia entirely from his mother’s bull rampant.

“Well, then,” Sandro says when I straighten. He’s wearing his crooked smile and the warmth has returned to his eyes. “Teddy will be pleased. He was very angry with me when he heard I’d banished you. But now we’re friends again—and brothers. I hope you can forgive me any bad decisions I make in the future, Nero—and I hope that you will point them out to me before I can make them.”

“I’ll do my best,” I tell him. “But you’ve never been easy to dissuade.”

His laugh is interrupted by a sudden, terrified scream, breaking the peaceful silence that had extended across the grounds.

Without a word, we both take off running for the house.