Page 77 of Mistletoe in the Mafia

“Talk, old man,” I grit out.

I feel my phone buzzing in my purse but I don’t pull it out. Dominic’s probably realized I’m missing. It’s only a matter of time before he finds us.

“Yes of course. Where to start…? It’s such a fun story. Novel-worthy, if you ask me.”

“I’m not asking,” I say dryly.

“Dominic lost his parents. You’re aware of that, yes? Well, after he did, he was fostered here in America by an uncle. Not blood-related, of course. This uncle was called Marco Vitelli.”

My eyes widen. No freaking way.

“You work in the FBI, I’m sure that name means something to you. Considering all your research on the mafia. Plus, Marco Vitelli was particularly infamous in his day. You’re aware the Italian faction has a governing body of five members. Marco was one of them till he retired. He raised two children, your dear boyfriend and his cousin. And those two children went on tofollow in his footsteps. Now they currently occupy positions at the highest level of the Cosa Nostra.”

“I-I don’t understand,” I say, feeling a little light-headed.

“What’s hard not to understand? You met Camila Vitelli tonight, did you not? She’s risen quite far in the mafia. It’s admirable, really, that she has a seat at the table of leaders. Dominic does as well.”

“You’re saying Dominic and Camila are a part of the mafia?”

I think about her saying she grew up in an Italian household. I think about all of Dominic’s secrets, the locked office door in his home, his ability to find out anything he wants to. His blatant disregard for what’s legal and not legal.

My hand starts to tremble. Yeah, I definitely feel sick.

“Breathe, sweetheart. We’re just getting started,” he says, grinning triumphantly. “Let’s go back, shall we? To Marco Vitelli’s time at the table of the Cosa Nostra. It will interest you to know that one other man sat at that table. Everyone only knew him as Sebestian because he rebranded himself from a pack rat in the slums of Mexico into someone with great power in the Cosa Nostra. He killed whoever he needed to kill, ruthless enough that he became the late Don’s right-hand man. He even pretended to be Italian,” the old man says on a chuckle. “He went to great lengths to hide his former identity. Do you want to know what his name was before he became Sebestian, Madelyn?”

“What was his name?” I whisper.

Even though I already know. There’s only one other man that means anything to me with a similar story. Only one other man that abandoned his family, his life, to chase power in the Italian mafia.

“Gabriel Hernandez.”

My heart stops for a minute before beating again.

“My father,” I spit. “Do you know where he is? How I can find him?”

It makes sense that he changed his name. No wonder I couldn’t find anything on him. All he told my mother before he left was that he wanted to make a better life for himself by moving to Chicago. And the last she heard of him was that he had joined the mafia.

The old man lets out a soft sigh. He actually looks sad. But from where I’m standing, the emotion is fake, meaningless.

“My poor, dear girl. Unfortunately, your father died about three years ago.”

I fall still. “What?”

“Hold your breath, this is where things start to get even more fun,” he says gleefully. “There was an internal war in the Cosa Nostra a few years ago. A tussle for power so to speak. The Don had just died and it was time to choose a new one. Sebestian or Gabriel was vying for the position. But he ended up losing it to a younger man called Nicholas Ramirez. Sebestian wasn’t daunted, though. He went to war for the position, going so far as to kidnap Nicholas’s wife, which is how he ended up dead. There was a confrontation. He was about to kill the young Don, but he ended up getting shot instead. He was shot by the Shadow. I’m going to give you three guesses as to who that is?”

I don’t even need to think about it before the name leaves my lips.

“Dominic.”

“Bingo,” the old man says.

I never realized a person’s heart could shut down before. Because as soon as I say his name, I feel it die. It just shrivels up and falls away.

“That is the real reason he was searching for you, Madelyn. He murdered your father. Everything he’s done for you, he’sdone out of guilt, not because he really cares. He’s a monster like the rest of them in the mafia. A cold-hearted, bloody murderer.”

I feel hot and cold simultaneously. And then I feel nothing.

“You’re a monster as well. Aren’t you?” I ask.

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