Page 64 of The Killer Cupcake (Poison Cherry #3)

LIFE OF LIES CHANGES EVERYTHING

T he Ricci dining room gleamed with old-world elegance—crystal, silver, and hypocrisy polished to a high shine.

Maria had outdone herself. Don Cosimo held court at the head, flanked by his remaining lieutenants, while Carmelo sat at his right hand where Matteo should have been, and instead of his wife, Nino sat next to him.

"A toast," Maria suggested in Italian, raising her glass of sparkling cider. "To family."

"To family," the table echoed in kind, though the words rang hollow with one son conspicuously absent.

"Where is Matteo?" Don Cosimo finally asked, his tone deceptively casual. "He was supposed to discuss the Vegas timeline tonight."

Carmelo set down his fork with deliberate precision. "Matteo won't be going to Vegas, Father."

The table fell silent. Maria's hand froze halfway to her glass.

"Explain,” said the Don.

"He enlisted. Left for Fort Dix this afternoon. Said he wanted to serve his country before settling down." Carmelo's delivery was flawless—a hint of surprise, a touch of pride, no trace of the puppet strings he'd pulled.

Don Cosimo's face cycled through confusion, rage, and something that might have been relief. "Enlisted? Without consulting me?"

"Apparently, the Communist threat motivated him. That, and perhaps a desire to prove himself worthy of the Ricci name since he’s made some mistakes in the past.” Carmelo met his father's eyes steadily.

"He asked me to tell you he was sorry for not asking permission, but felt that you would understand. "

"This is... unexpected." The Don's fingers drummed on the table.. "And the colored girl? His bastard?"

A more profound hush fell over the table.

It was the first time at a family gathering that Cosimo had mentioned he knew of Debbie and Matteo’s child.

The first time, he acknowledged the truth.

And it all but solidified Carmelo’s deep-seething hatred for the man who contributed to his and his brothers’ birth and destruction.

He had to wonder what kind of man he and Matteo would have been if they’d been born to anyone else but the Demon at the head of the table.

“She will move to Harlem under my protection, as I have promised him.” Carmelo's tone suggested this was non-negotiable. "Matteo serves honorably, and they stay safe. It's a matter of family honor now. Which I think he has restored. Wouldn’t you agree, Father?”

Don Cosimo glared at Carmelo. Everyone waited. Maria’s gaze remained lowered as she fed his daughter from her lap, while her mother tended to his son.

Cosimo shrugged. “As long as she understands her place is never at this table, everything is fine.”

The meal continued in strained conversation.

Nino sat silent and pale, understanding more than any man of his intellect would with the loss of his brother, along with his mother.

When dessert was cleared, Don Cosimo and his entourage left, his wife in tow, leaving the younger generation to their own devices.

Maria supervised the twins' bedtime routine while Carmelo escorted the guests out and put Nino to bed. He waited in their living room, studying the family photos she'd arranged on the mantel. Happy fictions, all of them. When she returned, her face glowed with anticipation.

"They missed their papa tonight," she said, settling beside him on the sofa. “Your son asked if you'd read to them tomorrow."

"Did he?" Carmelo's voice held no inflection.

"I'm glad Matteo's gone." The words tumbled out in a rush. "I mean, I'll miss him, but now... now maybe we can be a real family. The twins need their father, and I?—"

"You've been patient." His gaze dropped over to her, and he stared directly into her eyes. "Two years of patience. That's admirable, Maria."

She flushed, pleased by what she took as praise. "I knew you needed time. After everything... I understood."

"Did you?" he asked and moved her hair gently to tuck behind her ear so he could see her fully. "Tell me, Maria. What understanding is it you have now?"

"That you blamed yourself. For that night, we conceived our babies. For... forcing things." She reached for his knee. "But I forgave you long ago. You were drunk and upset?—"

"Interesting." He didn't pull away from her touch, but didn't return it either. “That’s very noble of you.”

A flicker of uncertainty crossed her features. "Carmelo?"

"I have a proposition." He cut her off. "Tomorrow night. Dinner at my club. Just the two of us. We'll discuss our future properly. Make some... decisions about the future."

Her face lit up like Christmas morning. "Really? Oh, Carmelo, I've hoped—I mean, yes. Yes, of course."

"Good. Wear something nice. Red, perhaps. You look beautiful in red."

She launched herself at him, arms wrapping around his neck, lips seeking his. For a moment, he remained still as marble. Then his hands came up, cupping her face, returning the kiss with passion he’d never given her.

"Carmelo," she breathed against his mouth. "Stay tonight. Please. The kids would love to wake up with you here, and I?—"

"All right. I’ll stay.”

She pulled back, shocked. "Really?"

"Why not?" His smile didn't reach his eyes. "As you said, we're a family."

She led him to the bedroom with eagerness she could barely suppress, hardly believing this sudden change.

He was gentle, attentive, everything she'd dreamed of for two years.

When she curled against him afterward, tears of joy on her cheeks, she whispered, "I love you. I've always loved you. I’ve done everything in my power to have you.”

"I know," he said to the darkness.

She fell asleep smiling, unaware that her husband lay awake calculating exactly how tomorrow night would unfold. In his mind, he could see Caesar's face when he revealed what he knew.

But not yet. Let her have this night, this illusion of happiness. Tomorrow would bring truth, consequences, and the settling of all accounts.

The recruitment office in Bay Ridge buzzed with nervous energy. Young men filled out papers, took physicals, swore oaths. Matteo stood among them in plain clothes, his leather jacket left in Caesar's car.

Patrick Donovan appeared at his elbow, clipboard in hand, smile too bright. "Mr. Ricci! So glad you decided to serve. Your paperwork's been expedited—you'll ship out to Fort Dix this evening."

"This evening?" Matteo asked.

"Special circumstances," Donovan continued smoothly. "You yourself mentioned your enthusiasm to begin training. The Army appreciates such dedication."

Matteo nodded once, then walked through the processing door without looking back. If he looked back, he could never see it through.

A knock interrupted the rhythm of packing.

Debbie paused, wearing Matteo's old button-down shirt that hung loose enough to hide her growing belly, and a pair of his pants with his belt tied around the waist. Not because she didn’t have her own pants and shirt, but because they were his.

She wanted his smell on her. She needed it.

Her eyes, swollen nearly shut from crying, lifted toward the door.

She opened it to find Carmelo waiting. The moment of silent staring stretched between them, heavy with everything unsaid. Then she turned and allowed him entry by default rather than by invitation.

"I came to give you this." He closed the door. He extended his hand with a thick envelope of cash.

She glanced at it, then away. "Leave it on the table. José will count it later."

He set it down. She looked up to see him surveying the empty room. Furniture gone, only boxes remaining. The home she and Matteo had built was a skeleton of a life being dismantled. The brownstone sold by Matteo to Carmelo was done fair and square. So the payment was delivered as promised.

"The Army will be good for him, Debbie—and Harlem's safer for you than Brooklyn. I'm here for whatever you need. Any time. Any help."

"You know what I think?" She didn't look up from her folding.

His eyebrow arched, waiting.

"I think you've been sick with jealousy since the day you learned he loved me." Her hands moved steadily, mechanically.

"Jealous? Of what exactly?"

"Of happiness. Of the life he built for me and his kids right here in your father’s face.

Jealous of his courage. Jealous because you can see that our love is real, solid, unbreakable.

Something you couldn't have with Kathy." Now she met his eyes.

"Matteo has true grit. That’s what my Big Mama would call it.

He didn't care what people thought, didn't care about defying your father. He was—is—the man you could never be."

Carmelo’s smirk was razor-thin. "You don't know Matteo. He’s killed so many men?—”

"I know all of him. Good and bad. The difference is, I love his darkness too." She resumed packing. "Kathy can't even stomach the mention of you."

"All right, Debs?—"

"Don't." Her voice cracked like a whip. "I'm not your 'Debs.' I'm his. And whatever lies you fed him to make him abandon us, I see through them. He loves you Melo. He still thinks you’re that smart kid who is misunderstood. But I see through you, Wolf of Harlem. You'll never fool me."

"Are you finished?"

"No. Your people think Matteo is dumb. Just some muscle with a knife. I think your mother thought it, too. But he’s smarter than all of you. Even with all your book smarts, he created the perfect love and didn’t run or hide to do it,” her voice choked on a sob. “Now he gave his life for it.”

“I think you already covered that,” Carmelo rolled his eyes.

“Go ahead. Roll your eyes. You know I’m right. Get out. Don't contact me or Junior again. Get out and stay gone. I don’t ever want to see your face until my real husband comes home."

The Wolf’s smile was cold as winter itself. "We're family now, Debs. I'll never be far away. Tell Kathy I said hello.”