Page 58 of His Wicked Wants (West Coast Mobsters #6)

CHAPTER 53

GAbrIEL

“How long are they going to be?” I demand from Max Pedretti as he shows me into the kitchen.

“Impossible to tell,” Pedretti says good-humoredly, and pats me on the shoulder. “You sit tight, Mr. Carstairs, and I’m sure the time will pass in a jiffy. I need to check on a few things, but the coffee’s right there if you want one.” He leaves me there and for a moment I think about sneaking out one of the other exits, but what good would that do Nero? I should probably just do what I’m told.

For now.

Unfortunately for me, Roxy is also in the kitchen, sitting at the long island counter with her sister, Charlotte, who is poking at something that looks like a croque monsieur . “Chef Laurent made it specially for you,” Roxy wheedles her.

“It’s yucky,” Charlotte says, and her pout is so reminiscent of her older sister’s that I almost smile.

Roxy sees me watching and gives me a rueful look. “She’s a little fussy sometimes.” Roxy wears no makeup today and her hair is still damp from a shower. She looks much younger than normal, and as I look between her and Charlotte, I marvel at the family resemblance. Except for her light brown curls, Charlotte is the spitting image of her older sister.

“How is your husband—any news?” I ask politely.

“Oh, Gino just went on a vacation, actually. Didn’t he, darling?” she says brightly, turning to Charlotte.

Whoops. I think I put my foot in there. At least Charlotte is still preoccupied with the unwanted food, which looks like the usual elaborate creation from Chef Laurent. If I was Charlotte’s age, I probably wouldn’t want it either.

I make myself a coffee and then, because it would look strange if I sat at the other end of the enormous island, I force myself to sit down near Roxy and Charlotte.

“I meant to tell you, Gabriel, the flowers looked amazing,” Roxy says after an awkward silence.

The flowers looked good? I guess in between all the dying and the screaming, yeah, they did. I don’t say anything, but the look on my face must tell her exactly what I’m thinking, because she colors slightly.

“I didn’t mean…” she whispers, but she trails off.

Elise comes into the kitchen at the other side and greets me with a wide smile, before it dims somewhat as she looks at Roxanne. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Bernardi,” she says stiffly. “You’re welcome to take Charlotte into the salon to eat there?—”

“Charlie prefers it in here, if that’s okay,” Roxanne says, but there’s something I’ve never heard in her voice before—she’s seeking permission, rather than expecting it. “She likes the view of the gardens.”

“Of course,” Elise says automatically, and gives a tight smile. She grabs a few knives and forks and gives a nod to us on her way out.

Roxy sighs, looking down at Charlotte’s untouched plate. “You’re really not going to eat that, are you?” Charlotte shakes her head firmly. “Well, what will you eat?”

“PB and J!” Charlotte shouts.

Roxy heads to the fridge and the pantry, which is on my side of the island, and begins gathering together the ingredients. “What I said just then—I didn’t mean to make light of what happened,” she says softly to me, as Charlotte begins humming to herself, and twists around on her stool to look out the window. “I just meant that I appreciated your work, and I should have said that before.”

I just raise my eyebrows.

“Nero gave me some advice,” she goes on, as she begins slathering a slice of white bread with peanut butter. “About remembering which side my bread is peanut-buttered on, if you catch my drift.”

“What does that mean?” Charlotte asks, watching the construction of her sandwich closely as Roxy spreads out the jelly.

“It means that you should be nice to the people who make your food for you,” Roxy says briskly. “Are you going to be nice to me now, and eat up?”

“No crusts,” Charlotte demands.

Roxy slices off the crusts and then cuts the sandwich into four triangles. “Does Madame approve?” Charlotte nods, and Roxy slides the plate over the counter toward her.

I’m struck by the way it seems so natural for Roxy to do this, but she turns to me before it really registers. “Gino will be okay,” she says in a soft voice. “Thanks to people like Nero and the other Castellanis here.”

“If you get a chance to say something nice about Nero to Don Castellani, I’d appreciate it,” I tell her. “Nero would too, if that makes any difference.”

“I owe him my life,” she says, even more quietly now. “And Charlie’s. If there’s anything I can do for him, I will do it.” Maybe I look confused, because she goes on, “What happened at the wedding was a wake-up call. I thought being part of a Family would be…different. I thought it meant guaranteed safety. But Nero was right; I was a little girl playing games. If I want to keep Charlie safe, I need to grow up—fast.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I’ve seen the way Nero looks at you, and I hoped maybe you’d put in a good word for me with him, just like I’ll speak to Don Castellani about him. Nero doesn’t think all that much of me, and I guess I can’t blame him. But I need him—I need friends like him, like the Castellanis, if the Bernardis are going to survive.”

I’m not sure how convinced I am by this sudden change of heart, but I nod. “Okay. I guess.”

We all turn instinctively as Miller barges into the kitchen, followed by Ana?s Beaumont, who is being hustled in by Jack. She pulls free of Jack’s grip and his hand flies to his holster, only to find it empty, having left it in the weapons safe outside. The only people with guns in the house right now are security staff.

“Shit,” Miller mutters, eyes on Roxanne. “Rox, don’t freak out, but…”

But Roxy and Ana?s are just staring at each other. I watch with interest as emotions play across Roxy’s face, but the main one I’m expecting doesn’t make an appearance: shock. Surprise, yes, but the kind of surprise you have at running into someone you know at the grocery store.

Someone you know and don’t particularly want to see.

Even I was shocked to find out that Ana?s Beaumont was still alive, and I didn’t know her personally. Surely for Roxanne Rochford, famously one of Ana?s Beaumont’s best friends, shock would be a natural response to the resurrection of the dead?

The only sound in the room for a few seconds is Charlotte, who is humming as she eats.

“Hi, Bestie,” Ana?s says at last. “Miss me?”

“What is she doing here?” Roxy asks with a note of alarm.

Ana?s’s eyes move to the child, and Charlotte finally seems to have realized the tension in the room, and stops her singing. She stares back at Ana?s and puts down her sandwich slowly.

“So you get everything,” Ana?s laughs. “The money. The power. Even the husband and the kid. Did you get a dog, too, while I was running for my life?”

“Charlotte is my little sister,” Roxy says, but her voice is thin and afraid.

“Is that right?” Ana?s says. She takes a few quick steps around the kitchen counter.

“Don’t—” Jack says warningly, dodging after her—but it’s too late. Ana?s has grabbed a knife from the kitchen block under the window—why in the hell are there so many knives everywhere? my brain unhelpfully asks—and then Roxy lets out a long, desperate, ear-piercing scream as Ana?s lunges for Charlotte, pulling the child against her body and pressing the knife to the tiny throat.

“Don’t do it!” Jack shouts again.

“Don’t do what ?” Ana?s demands. “Don’t try to find a way out after being fucking kidnapped by you?” She gives a wild laugh. “This is a conversation Roxy and I need to have,” she goes on. “Because I’d really like to know why she hung me out to dry.”

The kitchen door flies opens again from the salon, and Raffi DeLuca runs in, then stops dead. “Uh, what’s going on?” he asks. He must have heard the scream; my ears are still ringing from it.

“Guns on the counter,” Ana?s snaps at Raffi. “Right now.”

“Shoot her,” Roxy says. “ Shoot her! ”

But Raffi ignores them both, looking only at Jack, who points at the countertop. “Guns down,” he says calmly. “Nice and slow. No sudden moves.” Raffi obeys, laying out both of his handguns, though his eyes don’t leave Ana?s as he does. “We’re going to have a conversation,” Jack goes on. “Isn’t that right, Annie?”

Miller is breathing fast, his face flushed red—a stark contrast to Roxy’s dead white face. Her eyes are on Charlotte, her fingers flexing, swaying on her feet. I think she’s wondering if she can hurdle the kitchen island and get to Charlotte before…

“Let her go,” Roxy pleads. “Please, Annie, she’s just a child.”

“Tell them,” Ana?s spits at her. “Tell them how I came to you, begging for help, and you told me I’d got what was coming to me!”

Roxy is shaking her head, arms stretched out to Charlotte even as she speaks. “I’m sorry—I couldn’t help you, I?—”

“You told me I should just kill myself before Julian Castellani got to me!” Ana?s shrieks, her voice so shrill I wince.

And just when I think I can’t take anymore, Nero and Sandro burst in from the patio door.

Ana?s immediately pulls Charlotte closer, the knife pressing dangerously into the child’s skin. “Stay back!”

Sandro, his face cold and furious, pauses in reaching for his back pocket. His gaze flicks to Nero for a fraction of a second, and I’m surprised to see something passing between them—some rapid, silent agreement.

Sandro brings his hand back into view and moves back, positioning himself in front of the door the two of them just came through. But Nero takes a step forward, pausing as Ana?s presses the knife hard enough to make Charlotte whimper. “Listen to me,” Nero says, just as calm and measured as Jack was. “You don’t need to do this.”

Ana?s laughs bitterly. “Don’t tell me you suddenly know who I am.”

Nero takes another cautious step forward, hands raised in a placating gesture. “I can help you, if you need help. It’s not too late.”

Sandro, Jack, and Raffi stay still, silent, watchful. All of them are ready to act—but they seem to be giving Nero a chance to talk her down.

“Don’t lie to me!” Ana?s’s voice trembles with rage, but I notice her grip on the knife loosens slightly.

“I’m not lying,” Nero continues, his voice smooth and persuasive. “I can get you away from here. To Europe. Give you everything you need to start fresh. Money, documents, connections. You could live like royalty.”

Ana?s narrows her eyes, suspicion battling with hope. “Why would you help me? You don’t even know me.”

“I will help you because I can see you’ve been wronged,” Nero replies. “And I respect people who survive against the odds.” He takes another careful step. “You could set up a new life for yourself in Europe. You could—you could marry well, if that’s what you wanted.”

“How well?” Ana?s demands, but I can see her grip on Charlotte loosening further.

“An aristocrat, at the very least,” Nero says. “With your beauty? Perhaps even a prince.”

I glance at Nero, astonished by how easily he reads and plays her. Because I can see it now—how deeply unhinged Ana?s Beaumont truly is, her eyes gleaming with a desperate hunger.

“A prince?” she echoes.

“Why not?” Nero smiles. “A woman like you deserves nothing less.”

“Promise me,” she whispers.

“Of course I promise. You have my word of honor.”

For a long moment, nobody moves. Then, slowly, Ana?s lowers the knife and releases Charlotte. Nero steps forward and pulls Charlotte hastily into his arms, stroking her hair and hiding her face against his shoulder, murmuring to her as he backs away fast, “You’re safe, little one, you’re safe now.”

It feels for a moment like everyone lets out a breath, but the relief is shattered almost immediately with three loud cracks. Ana?s Beaumont bucks each time as though she’s a marionette and her handler is jerking her strings—and then, as though those strings have been severed, collapses to the ground behind the island, out of sight.

I whirl around to see Raffi lunging for Roxanne, wrenching the weapon he just surrendered from her grip. “ Fuck . She grabbed it so fast, I?—”

But no one is listening to him. Jack has run for Miller, trying to block his view. And Nero is still talking to Charlotte in a low, comforting tone, telling her she’s alright, everything is alright. He reaches over to grab my wrist. “Come on!” he commands, and I let him drag me with him.

Behind us, I hear Jack trying to hustle Miller out of the room as well. But as Nero and I leave the kitchen, Miller’s voice carries after us, sounding strangely calm and detached.

“It’s alright, JJ. She had it coming.”