Page 6 of Carlo
Her eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. “Not until after the wedding. And if I get away. If one of your men even blinks while watching me…” She raised her shoulders in a half-shrug. “If that happens, then we won’t ever. "
“You don’t have a choice.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. If there’s one thing my former marriage taught me, it’s that we always have a choice. We just don’t always like what those choices are.” She gave me one last scathing look and left me standing in the doorway like an idiot.
* * *
The look still burns in my stomach. It’s our wedding day, and it’s the last thing I should worry about. But damn her, she is like a prisoner trying to dig his way out of his way out of his concrete cell with a plastic spoon. It shouldn’t work, but with enough stubborn determination, that fucker escapes. I grit my teeth and gulp more of my drink. Bruno frowns, but fuck him. They’ve all gathered with me before I walk down the aisle. We did the same for Mariano and Matteo. Today is different. There are no jokes that would scorch a virgin’s ears. No pre-wedding cheers or toasts. Instead I’m handled like a ticking time brom. Cautiously passed from one brother to the next as they weigh their words.
Mariano, the lawyer-slash-peacemaker, pats my back. “You ready?”
“No.”
He shrugs a shoulder. “You’re right. You can’t be. It’s like the first time you kill a man. People can tell you what it does to you, how it changes you. But until you do it…”
I raise a brow at him, and he trails off. He’s as much Falcone as the rest of us. Mariano’s done his share of dirt, but, he’s never been in the field. He typically fights for the Falcone family with words and courts. He’s not wrong, but his words don’t hit with the impact he wants so he backs off. As he should.
Matteo gives it a try, and like Mariano, he’s shed and spilled blood for our family, but he protects our family’s money from his computer. Watching over our dollars in and out so we don’t get fucked like other families have in the past. It’s true you can’t escape death and taxes. With him having our backs, we’re safe from the taxes part. Before he can speak he reads my look and simply mutters. “Just give her a chance. It wasn’t easy for me and Jaleesa at first, either.”
I hate my brothers treating me like I’m a rabid animal. I get why. For the last decade, I’ve been building an angry bridge to nowhere. Losing my mother, and watching my father paradearound his mistress while leaving me to raise Mariano and Matteo built that bridge brick by brick. But I’ve built it from one furious side—leaving myself stuck in the middle. I can’t complete the bridge. I can’t get over to the other side. There’s nothing I can do but sit here with no way to move forward and no desire to go back. When I lost Mama, I lost my father too. Lost my childhood, my innocence. Because without my mother shielding us, we were all swept into my father’s brutal world and expected to perform at his vicious level. A level that requires a lot of damn drinking and fucking to survive. Hell, maybe that’s just me.
Bruno, Sal jr, squares off with me. He’s the oldest, and he takes the brunt of my father’s hits. He’s lost as much as I have. Forced to give up school, leave the woman he loved, who wasn’t acceptable to my racist father, and step into his anointed position. “Carlo, what did you do with Cynda?”
My thumb flexes and rubs the sides of my fist. “What the fuck did you ask me?”
“You can’t marry and keep her on the side. We swore we would never be like Father is. We would never do to a Falcone bride…”
“I know what we swore. I know how his life killed her, even before the cancer. I don’t need a fucking reminder.”
“Good, and I assume you also know that this deal hinges on a solid marriage. We can’t build ties to them if their daughter is running home crying.”
A sharp laugh breaks out before I can restrain it. He obviously doesn’t know my bride-to-be. “She won’t be running home.”
“And the crying?”
I narrow my eyes. He forced me to marry her, but he can’t force how we feel about each other. “Any tears will be betweenus. You gave her to me, and I’ll keep her. How I treat her is not your concern.”
Bruno steps into my space. I’m a big motherfucker, but Bruno is bigger. Still, I meet him toe to toe. More than willing to release some of the steam boiling like a kettle inside. Until Mariano steps between us. “Stop it. This isn’t the time or place.” He scowls at Bruno. “He’s right, and you know it. You can’t tell a man how to treat his wife.” Burno bristles until Mariano continues. “Besides, has Carlo ever let this family down? He always does what he needs to do,” he swivels and stares me down. “And this will be no different.” He traps me in his gaze and doesn’t release me until I nod.
Bruno’s jaw tics, and his hand fists, but he turns away. “Fine. Let’s get this marriage started. We’ve wasted enough time. I just hope she’s fucking ready.”
He turns to the door of the suite we’ve been waiting in.Is he referring to the wedding or the marriage?
Chapter 5
“She’ll be fine.” My husband’s words coil around me like a snake. Slithering along my skin with a forked tongue. Lies. How can she be alright when I’m falling apart? A mom from her school had reached out and suggested Cate spend the weekend with her friend. I was going to say no. Absolutely not. Curse my luck; Caterina came in behind me and heard the offer. Her brown eyes begged me with all the hope and demand of a six-year-old determined to get her way. She rarely asks for anything. Her therapist said it would be good for her. Carlo swore to protect her every minute.
Carlo. I whirled on my new husband, my heavy diamond ring in its platinum band catching the light as I spin around. These changes, the ones rocking our lives like a raft thrust into the ocean, were because of him and our families. Now he’s making promises he can’t keep. Safety is not something you can guarantee—or trust. It’s something you hope for before you realize it’s never more than a gossamer illusion. I hiss at his words, wishing they were physically here so that I could rip them to shreds. Since they’re not, I’m okay with using him as a substitute. “You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do. She’s with my men. They know to keep an eye on her. To watch her like she’s one of their own.”
I glared at him. “And if she gets scared in the middle of the night? She sometimes has night terrors, you know?”
“She’s with her friend. If there’s a problem, Jeanine knows how to contact us. For God’s sake, we had the woman vetted more closely than a presidential candidate. And my guys, who are better than the Secret Service, are parked outside. You need to calm down. Have a drink.”
The amber liquid in his glass sloshes as he waves it at me. “I don’t drink, and I don’t like men who do.”
Carlo responds by lifting his glass. Slowly taking one long swallow.
