Page 10 of Pride

Friend. I know enough from growing up in the mob. In our world, friendship is entirely transactional. Outside of family, there is no one to be trusted. My father has drummed that into me from day one.

I open my mouth to argue some more, but Daddy lifts a hand to silence me. “Serafina. Enough. Go upstairs with your motherand sister and pack your bags. We leave for the safe house in an hour.”

6

ANTONY

In the end, I convince Carmine to take one of my cars, with his wife and his younger daughter, so as to be less identifiable. I follow behind with Sera in a separate car. The conversation occurs privately between him and me, while Sera herself is upstairs. I don’t want to give her the opportunity to resist it. Serafina Mucci, I am learning, is a passionate and headstrong girl. Some might even call her obstinate. But I have already seen that she will not disobey a direct order from her father.

Sera comes down before her mother and sister do, carrying a small travel bag that for most women wouldn’t be big enough to carry their makeup. She is less than pleased to hear that she’ll be riding to the safe house with me. Sera is clearly suspicious of my motives, even as she climbs into my Maserati. She squints at me with arresting hazel eyes as I shut the passenger door on her, as though she half-thinks I’m planning to kidnap her. Sera is completely silent as I wait for the large, black SUV carrying the rest of her family and Mucci’s enforcers to slip out the back gate of the compound. I pull the Maserati behind to follow them and we glide quietly away and into the night.

“I still can’t believe my father is agreeing to this,” Sera mutters.

“You were the one suggesting he go to the safehouse.”

“Not with you trailing along!” she bites out. “For all we know, you were the one to order the hit!”

I scoff. “Don’t be ridiculous. I was not lying when I said your family needs friends right now. Whoever is behind this will be watching. They don’t know whether your father is alive or dead. And if they could get a weapon into the compound to shoot at him, there’s nothing saying they didn’t also get access to your fleet of vehicles. Your father’s men need time to check them for car bombs and other devices. None of them is safe right now.”

“Oh, sure. And just ever so conveniently, you ride to the rescue. Why on earth would I trust the word of the D’Agostino capo?”

“Not the capo yet,” I remind her, though we both know that’s true in title only. “And your father trusts me at least this much, which is enough. Besides,principessa, if I wanted Carmine Mucci dead, he would already be in a shallow grave. Trust that.”

“Don’t call me that.” Sera sinks back into the leather seat.

I suppress a chuckle. This girl is really quite charming when her hackles are raised. There’s no doubt that she’s beautiful. Stunning, really. The frustrated pout of her lips, the determined set of her jaw, the cascade of wavy auburn hair that falls thick past her shoulders… not to mention the flashing eyes that seem to take in everything and everyone around her in an instant. She’s still wearing the form-fitting dress she had on for the party, though she’s changed out of the high heels she was wearing for some more sensible ballerina flats. A peek of white bandage shows on the top of her foot, where she must have wrapped it up after stepping on glass in her haste to get to her father. Funny, I’d actually forgotten that she hurt herself. Aside from her surprised yelp when it happened, she’s seemed toignore the pain ever since. She’s certainly not the typical mafia princess who expects everyone to cater to her and take care of her. She must have cleaned and dressed the wound herself, quickly, while the others were getting ready to leave.

In spite of the fact that she’s radiating anger and suspicion off of her like a blast furnace, I have to admit, Serafina Mucci is quite impressive. Smart. In control. A little too brash for her own good, though. My Catholic upbringing reminds me that she was named after the seraphim, fiery angels who serve at the right hand of God. I steal a glance over at her, and feel my lips quirk up into a grin. Not that Carmine Mucci is God or whatever, but the image of this firebrand sitting at the right hand of her father, advising him, seems fitting somehow. I’m sure her parents couldn’t have known how well the name they chose for her would end up fitting her.

Between Sera’s belligerent silence and the boredom of following behind the SUV, my mind wanders as I drive. As I automatically check my mirrors for tails, I think back to the craziness earlier at the Mucci compound. Of covering Serafina’s body with mine while the bullets rang out. Of the way she struggled against me, desperate to get up and run to her family. Of the fire in her eyes, and the luscious plumpness of her lips as they parted while she stared up at me, startled at how our bodies were molded together like lovers.

Fuck. Just the thought of it, and my cock is straining in my pants. Clearing my throat, I shift in my seat, hoping she doesn’t notice how hard I am.

“How do Iknowyou weren’t responsible for this?” Sera asks, breaking the silence.

“As I said. If I had wanted your father dead, he would be dead.”

“Well… Maybe you didn’t want him dead. Maybe you wanted him scared.” She turns and tries to burn a hole through my headwith her flashing eyes. “With his back against the wall. Willing to take help from the soon-to-be capo of a rival family.”

“We are not rivals, Serafina. We are all part of the samefamiglia.” She scoffs, but I continue. “And I came to the dinner hoping to make an alliance, remember. That’s much cleaner and better than a war, Sera. No smart capo who had the choice between the two would choose violence. And I am a smart man.”

“I don’t want you here,” she says simply.

“I know,” I say gently. “But it’s your father’s choice, not yours.”

We don’t speak again until we arrive at Mucci’s safe house, a sprawling, isolated A-frame cottage set far from the main road, situated on a small, pristine lake. Inside, I stand back, allowing Mucci’s men to bring in their luggage and get them settled in. Carmine Mucci is still showing the signs of being shot as he walks carefully up the steps. He is slightly stooped over as if in pain. His entire torso is likely to be bruised, and it’s possible he’s even cracked a rib or two. At his age, he’ll be feeling it for quite a while.

Carmine’s men bring the family’s bags into the house. I sit down with the family in a large but rustic living room. Carmine takes the largest chair and eases into it with a groan, as his wife and daughters perch side by side on the couch. “Antony, thank you for your generosity,” Carmine says.

Sera makes a rude noise, but her father seems not to hear it.

“You are most welcome, Carmine. This unfortunate situation affects both of us. Better it is resolved quickly. Besides, we are all family here.” I turn to Sera’s mother and give her a significant look. “And who knows? Perhaps I will be even closer family to the Muccis, soon.”

Sofia Mucci twitters like an excited bird. She definitely cannot wait to marry off her daughter. Next to her, Sera gives me a withering glance.

Sera’s sister Stamatina seems to have recovered from all the drama on the ride over. She flops back against the couch cushions and lets out a dramatic groan. “How long are we going to have to stay here?”

“Until we know it is safe to return, Tina. Now hush,” her mother scolds her.

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