Page 110 of The Deadly Candies

Matteo turned toward Ely, offering his hand. Ely hesitated for a moment, studying Matteo closely, then finally shook his hand with a polite nod. José raised a questioning eyebrow at Kathy, who subtly shook her head, signaling him that Ely still didn’t know the full story. José immediately understood.

José cleared his throat, stepping forward to ease the tension. “So, this is the place we found for you and Debbie.” He turned to Ely. “Hola, can we step outside for a minute? There’s some things I need to catch you up on.”

Ely glanced protectively toward Kathy.

“I’ll be fine,” Kathy assured him quickly. “I’ll take the tour with Debbie and Matteo. Mama Stewart’s is next door—I told you about it, remember?”

Ely’s eyebrows lifted slightly in recognition. “Oh, yeah? You bought a place for Kathy next to Mama Stewarts’ diner?”

Debbie hugged Matteo’s arm tighter. “We’ll meet you guys over there,” she said, lightly dismissing the accusation in Ely’s tone. Matteo just stared at him. Didn’t make a move. Debbie kissed Matteo’s cheek to soothe tension. It was going wrong and fast.

Ely hesitated again, clearly uneasy. Kathy stepped closer, gently taking his arm. “Trust me, Ely. I’m not stupid. I believe what you said to me earlier. I’d never do anything to hurt my daddy. I promise.”

Ely’s expression softened, visibly relieved. He nodded. “Alright, Kat.”

José led Ely into the street, the door shut softly behind them. The moment it closed, Carmelo came slowly down the stairs, his polished leather shoes tapping against the worn wood. The late afternoon light caught the sharp angles of his face—his olive skin, his dark, wavy hair neatly combed back, save for a single stubborn curl that fell over his brow. He wore a crisp white button-down, sleeves rolled to the elbows, revealing strong forearms dusted with faint dark hair. His trousers were pressed, his suspenders snug against his broad shoulders—every inch the Brooklyn boy who’d grown up just a borough away but now carried himself like a man who’d seen and been through too much.

And then he saw her.

Kathy stood frozen, her breathing stopping and starting. She was even more beautiful than he remembered—her deep brown skin glowing against the ruby-red of her dress, the fabric hugging her bosom before flaring at the waist. Her long, dark hair cascaded in soft waves over her shoulders, catching the light like polished mahogany. Her lips, painted a bold crimson, parted in shock.

Carmelo froze completely, his chest tightening as if the air had been punched from him. Debbie and Matteo glanced at each other, the silence thickening like the summer heat.

Then, Kathy moved.

She broke into a run before she launched herself into Carmelo’s waiting arms. He caught her effortlessly, lifting her off her feet as if she weighed nothing, spinning her in a tight circle. Her arms locked around his neck, her face buried in the crook of his shoulder, breathing him in—the familiar scent of his cologne, faintly spiced, mixed with the warmth of his body heat.

Ten months apart had stretched like a lifetime; now, words were useless. Kissing could wait. This—the solid press of his body against hers, the way his hands gripped her waist like he’d never let go—was enough.

But beneath the joy, fear coiled in Kathy’s chest. She knew the risks. Knew his family would sooner see her dead than agree to their love. And her father finding her in the arms of an Italian boy from the Mafia would be the ultimate betrayal after she promised she would not see him. Yet if this were all they’d ever have—one stolen moment before the world tore them apart again—she would take it.

When Carmelo finally lowered her back onto her feet, tears streaked Kathy’s cheeks, glistening like morning dew. He cradled her face in his rough hands, his thumbs brushing away the wetness before pressing slow, reverent kisses to her lips.

“My girl,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion.

And just like that, the world outside didn’t matter.

“Stop crying, Kathy. Please don’t cry. It’s alright,” he whispered softly.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” she managed, voice trembling.

Debbie and Matteo quietly moved upstairs, leaving them alone. Matteo’s murmured explanations about renovation plans faded into the background. Carmelo wrapped his arms around Kathy again, holding her securely. If he hadn’t gripped her so tightly, she might have drifted away on sheer relief.

“Ciao, bella, let’s start again,” he murmured tenderly, drawing back slightly to look into her eyes.

“Hi,” Kathy whispered back, finally calm as she met his gaze.

“I have so much to tell you,” he said softly. He took a deep breath and lowered himself onto one knee before her. “But first, I need to know: will you still marry me?”

Kathy stared down at him, her heart racing. She vividly recalled his first proposal, next door at Mama Stewart’s—the fairy tale she’d once wholeheartedly believed. But so much had changed since then.

“Carmelo, your father has put a price on my head,” she said gently, sadly. “If I stay in Harlem longer than a week, he’ll destroy my family. And Bumpy Johnson will let it happen. That’s why I can’t pretend we could do this. Even if we run, your father will make my father pay. That’s the truth I have to face.”

Shock covered his face. “That’s not true. It can’t be.”

“It is! It has always been this way. We are risking people’s lives.”

“Let’s not talk about it right now, let’s…”

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