Page 60 of Runaway in the Mafia (The shadows of Cosa Nostra Chronicles #3)

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

VITALE

S he ran. Of course she did. I’d known from day one that if I showed her the exit, she’d burst through it and let the door slam shut on my face.

I’d blamed her for everything, but this one was on me. I’d shown her the damn exit. Laid out the fucking red carpet for her to walk out of my life.

The thing was, I couldn’t do it anymore. Have her with me and not own her fully. Couldn’t make her choose either. I knew how antiquated traditions were. I’d followed them enough times, and I’d certainly defied my share of them. But I was the don. A man. I had the luxury of choice.

She was a girl. A woman born into a culture that wouldn’t take kindly the side steps she’d taken. Fucking hypocrisy. But it was what it was. And taking a match and setting it on fire was, for once, not going to be the fucking solution to it.

So I’d let her go. Let her slip past my fingers like sand in an hourglass.

And just like in one of those, it sifted out too fast. Left me behind feeling too fucking empty.

But I’d wait for her. Till I ended up six feet under if need be.

Then I’d wait for her from beyond. If she ever walked back into my life, I’d accept her, no questions asked. But it had to be her choice.

She’d gone through enough. She’d married a stranger before. Borne the brunt of it. I wasn’t going to be the one to add to her misery.

In hindsight, maybe I shouldn’t have killed the fucker.

What could I say? I was born volatile. Thought better with a weapon in my hand than with a pen.

A habit I couldn’t kick. Definitely not when the cunt had dared to shove his dick in her.

Smack her. Fucking kick her when she was already down.

Hurt. Bleeding. My only regret was that I couldn’t bring him back to cut him into little bits and pieces.

Again. Sometimes that was all that filled my head.

Thoughts of how I would torture him to wipe him off the face of this world.

Because these thoughts, I could manage. The others of losing her… of never seeing her…

I couldn’t bring myself to think of that.

Even if I knew I couldn’t have her. Not knowing her plans killed me.

One breath at a time. Gave me a fucking headache.

My mind couldn’t stop reeling. What is she doing?

Where is she sleeping? What is she thinking?

It shouldn’t matter anymore. It was all in her hands.

I’d sent two of my men on the flight, and the moment she was in her father’s arms, my job had been done.

I had forced myself to let her go. Ordered my men to pull back, and just like that, she had walked out of my life.

Like she’d always wanted to. The tracker on her locket, I had disconnected.

The string that attached her to me was cut.

I’d always thought she’d be the one to do it.

It was almost hilarious that I had been the one to do it.

It had been two days since I took her back to Mamma. Since I had seen her. Smelled her. Held her in my arms. I walked through the house that, yet again, echoed my footsteps. Hollow. Empty. Soulless.

No Ahana. No maids.

Just like it was before. A fucking designer tomb.

I switched on the coffee machine and watched the espresso pooling into the cup, like it would bring me some kind of relief. Stifling the frustration I felt gnawing at my stomach, I skimmed my eyes and found the plastic on the cooker. It reminded me of all the uncooked meals we never made.

Fuck. I hated this house without her. I needed something to forget her.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d smoked a cigar. I went in search of it and found one in my office. It lit in my hands like a childhood memory, but when I puffed, just like a childhood memory, the reality was fucking disappointing.

No Ahana. No life.

The grey haze swirled before my eyes. Empty.

No Ahana. No addiction.

I needed to find something new to do. I stared through the window, watching the driveway and remembering the time I’d put her on my hood and fucked her on it.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I leaned back, took the paperweight from my desk and smashed it against the window. The glass splintered like a jigsaw puzzle. It didn’t do shit to make me feel better. Only reminded me that I might as well get a premium insurance package.

While I thought about all the paperwork I had to handle for it, my pants vibrated. I yanked the phone out without looking and brought it to my ear.

“Fuck off, cugino.”

A beat passed. An awkward cough filtered through, followed by an unfamiliar voice. “Good morning, Mr Di Matteo.”

Who the fuck is this? I pulled the phone away and glanced at my screen. Plus ninety-one. Suddenly, I was on high alert. “Sorry,” I muttered. Why was I fucking apologising?

“Don’t be. If you haven’t figured it out yet, I’m Vad Adhya.”

I was bursting with questions. I forced myself to stay silent.

“Ahana’s father.”

How is she? Is she sleeping? Eating? Having a headache? Does she miss me?

But nothing was worth enough to ask him without knowing what she’d told him. Why was he even calling me?

The man on the other end chuckled at my silence. “I’d like to meet you.”

Because?

“My health is poor. The doctors won’t allow me to travel.” He sighed as if that fact annoyed him more than his health being poor. “Do you mind dropping by?”

Either the man didn’t know how fucking far Italy was, or he knew how much I cared for his daughter. “I’ll be there in fourteen hours.” I paused, annoyed. “Make it fifteen.” I had to fuel the damn jet on the way.

Sergio would kill me for going alone without protection. For all I knew, the man was going to get me arrested the moment I set foot on his side of the world.

Whatever.

If that was the way to get to her, I’d take it.

I didn’t know what Antonio loved about India because the sweat pooling down my back the moment I stepped out of my jet wasn’t even funny.

The tarmac insisted on melting the souls of my leather shoes, leaving me no option but to stride fast to the cooled Mercedes waiting for me.

It brought me to a glass-clad, modern building.

Inside, the aircon blasted, freezing the place to sixteen degrees.

Celsius. They had a weird way of cooling off, Ahana’s people.

A man with dark skin and even darker hair, holding a board with ‘Mr Di Matteo’ on it, met me.

He looked behind me for my luggage and gave me a disappointed glance when he didn’t find any. “I will take you to your hotel, sir.”

“No.” I shook my head. “You can take me to Mr Adhya. Now.” He hesitated, and then a grin split his face, like he was delighted with my demand.

I didn’t know what that was about and couldn’t care less about it.

I followed him, slowing down to not rush past him, and walked outside the building.

It was pitch dark outside. Fuck. Why hadn’t I noticed this?

I glanced at my watch. It was three thirty in the morning.

I really should have thought this through.

Told her father twenty-four hours. That would have given me enough time to check into a hotel, freshen up, and try to get a couple of hours’ sleep.

Lack of sleep for almost three days had me agitated.

More than my usual self and, according to Lia, I wasn’t pleasant company on a good day, let alone one like this.

Pulling my sick father-in-law out of his bed was only going to piss him off.

I could see myself collecting points with Ahana with this one. If she even wanted me.

Delhi flew past my window. My wife’s hometown.

An ache in my chest reminded me of her absence.

For the millionth time, I wondered what she was doing.

Is she sleeping? Or is she awake. Forty-five minutes later, we entered a high-rise building through an underground parking lot.

A lone security guard who looked too lean to protect anything, empty hallways, and a silent ride up were all that greeted me.

My composure rattled. Nerves jingled. The real reason why my body was falling apart was a revolution.

This was the only time I wanted the approval of someone.

Needed it. Fucking badly. Vaguely, I wondered if I should have brought my consigliere .

Made him negotiate a deal for me. My everything for his eldest daughter.

I shook my head. Tried to clear my thoughts. Tension coiled in my stomach walls. It did nothing to ease the pressure on my chest. The doors dinged open. A pair of brown eyes met me. Same as my wife’s. But not quite. Older. Shrewd. Less warm, with a grip on my lifeline.

I stepped out and towered effortlessly over him. But he wasn’t intimidated, and shook my hand in a firm grip.

“Nice of you to pass by, Mr Di Matteo.”

Pass by. Sure. “You can call me Vitale.”

He gave a thoughtful nod. “Of course. It would be odd to call my son-in-law by his surname.”

With that, he led the way, leaving me to follow behind him.

Fuck. She told him.

I was struggling. I was the fucking don, but I didn’t know how to behave with this man. The made man in me wanted to threaten him, put a gun to his head and demand that he send his daughter my way. Fuck tradition. Fuck everything. She was fucking mine.

But the man who wanted his wife to choose him held back. He was important to her. That in itself meant he was going to be the king in my chess game.

“Coffee?”

I nodded. I’d rather have a whiskey.

A man in a brown uniform appeared out of a side door. The ‘coffee’ he set in front of me was a fucking murder of the coffee beans. More milk than coffee. The last time I’d had milk, I must have been five. I took a sip, grimaced, then ignored it in favour of observing my father-in-law.

The man looked fine to me. He had a walking stick, but he walked as if he’d rather chuck it out the window than use it. His shoulders hunched slightly, but dressed in a suit, he had the presence of a sharp man with his wits about him. Unlike the one he faced.

“So, Vitale…” he rounded the desk. “My daughter has told me a lot of things.” He sank into the chair. The relief on his face when he did was the only sign of weakness. I remained quiet, and he leaned back in his chair, observing me with his keen eyes. “I’d like to hear your side of it.”

I leaned forward and placed the cup of milk with coffee on the table. “There’s only her side of it.”

“Oh.” He was surprised.

“She’s your daughter. That’s the only side that should matter to you.”

Something shifted in the air. I didn’t falter under his watchful eyes. He took his time to speak again, and when he did his tone had changed. “I agree.” A thread of warmth shone through it. “Her happiness means the world to me.”

“It should have.”

Silent accusation rang in the air. Just when I was doing a damn good job of getting into his good books.

He sighed and leaned forward earnestly. “I’m old, Vitale.

A man of my age carries many mistakes in my life.

” He lifted two fingers up. “I have two when it comes to my eldest daughter. One, I should never have allowed her to marry my friend’s son.

I was wrong. I thought my friend had my daughter’s best interests in mind.

But, like you kindly pointed out, in his case, he had only his son’s interest in mind. Normal, I guess. Right?”

“If you say so.”

He shrugged. “I’ll never know….” He trailed off, his mind clearly deep in thought.

“And your second?” I nudged.

“Yes. I seemed to have given her the impression that I was weak. Or my wife did. But it doesn’t matter. No father is so weak as not to protect their daughter. I am more than capable of taking on the world. For her.”

I could see why Ahana loved this man. Someone who prioritised their children’s happiness, especially a daughter’s, was an exception in my world. More so in hers. Respect seeped into my chest, uninvited but not unwanted.

“But I think you will do the same for her, yes?”

“Without a doubt.”

“Because you have already done that.”

I stayed silent.

“Should I know something about that?”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

He nodded. The chair creaked as he leaned back. “What worries me, though… how can I say it…” and here it comes. “Your field of work.” Of course. “Can you protect her?”

It wasn’t an instant no?

“I’d give my life to protect her.”

“I’m sure you would,” he murmured thoughtfully. “I’m happy she’s finally found her home.”

I frowned. “You don’t have any other worries?”

“No.” He shook his head. “Should I?”

I shrugged. “My w—Ahana seemed worried about the repercussions from the family, society.”

He waved his hand. “I’ll take care of that.”

“How?”

He smiled. A devilish glint in his eyes.

“It’s all about appearances, Vitale. Rajesh is going to meet his demise soon, right?

” At my nod, he continued. “My daughter’s grieving.

She’s going to move to Italy because she can’t bear to come back home or stay in London.

She meets you. A nice man who wants to give her a second life. End of story.”

I cocked my eyebrow.

He smiled. The glint in his eyes reminded me of another pair of eyes. “We have Bollywood. We’re very good at selling stories.”

“I’m still not brown.”

He chuckled. “No. You’re not. But I should have known already, brown never would have matched with my daughter.”

He lifted himself off the chair with a grimace and walked up to me, leaning on the walking stick.

I didn’t get up so he could balance on the desk.

“Go back to Italy. Take care of my daughter. When the time is right, I’ll get you down here for a visit with the family.

Like everything here, it will take time.

I need to drop the bomb. But when the shock waves settle, they’ll welcome you with open arms.”

“I could help you with that.”

He shook his head. I could see where my wife inherited her stubbornness from. “You already are. My daughter tells me she has her own business now.” His eyes were suspiciously wet. “I always knew she was too good to be kept inside a kitchen. You’re already giving her much more than I ever could.”

I stood up, and he grasped my hand. He gripped it in his. For the first time, I felt how weak he was. “Take care of her for me, will you?” I nodded. “One day I’ll be gone, and I don’t want a single sad day on her timeline, yes?”

“I understand.”

“Her happiness is mine.” he hugged me. I allowed him to, even if he was the only man to ever do so. “Welcome to the family.” He let me go and looked at me. “And thank you for taking care of her when I couldn’t.”