Bound By The Past (Born in Blood Mafia Chronicles Book 7) Page 3

  “Being the Boss of the Outfit is quite a different matter.”

  Father thought it would draw less negative attention to him if he was referred to as Boss, not Capo, as if anyone was fooled by the false packaging. I gave a curt nod. “I’ll meet with Pietro now.”

  I didn’t wait for his dismissal and left. On my way to my car, I sent Pietro a short text asking him to meet me in fifteen minutes at the bar in the Bologna, the casino he managed at the moment. When I entered the place, which had an annoying lava lamp theme, Pietro already perched on a stool. I headed for him and sat down beside him. He turned. Today his hair was immaculate and his clothes perfectly ironed. “I heard Jacopo was killed by a Bratva bullet yesterday.”

  A Bratva bullet, not a Bratva soldier. “It was unfortunate.”

  Pietro smiled. I motioned for the barkeeper to give me an espresso like Pietro.

  “Father agreed to give Ines to you.”

  Pietro’s expression brightened. “He does?”

  “Next year, August.”

  Pietro froze. “I’d prefer to marry her the year after when she’s eighteen, Dante.”

  “My father insists on the date, and that you move to Minneapolis right after the wedding and prepare to become Underboss.”

  Pietro looked away, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t feel comfortable being married to Ines when she’s only seventeen.”

  “I assume because of the sexual aspect of your marriage,” I said in a low voice, even if I bristled at the idea of it.

  Pietro gave me a pained look.

  “We don’t have the bloody sheets tradition anymore. You can wait the ten months until Ines’ birthday. Marriage doesn’t mean you have to have sex.”

  Pietro stared down at the bar. “Dante,” he said quietly, but the doubt rang loud in that one word. He raised his head.

  I wasn’t blind. Ines was a very beautiful woman. Her blonde hair and blue eyes were desired by many men, and her tall frame added to her appeal. Pietro would be as good a husband as a man of his or my disposition could be. He was also a man—a man who’d have the right to a very beautiful woman he’d share a house and bed with.

  “I’d never force Ines, you know that.”

  “Ines has been brought up to be dutiful and her duty is to give her body to you. Force won’t be necessary, Pietro. You know that as well as I do.” My voice had become sharper.

  “I don’t know if… if I’m strong enough to resist that long.” He searched my eyes. “Could you resist for months if your beautiful wife shared a bed with you every night?”

  I prided myself on my self-control. Was I absolutely sure I could resist? No, but I wouldn’t reveal that to Pietro. “Yes.”

  Pietro shook his head with a chuckle. “Then you’re a stronger man than me.”

  Their wedding took place next year in August as Father insisted.

  I kept an eye on Ines and Pietro at the wedding, trying to read their interactions to gauge how forceful my warning for Pietro would have to be. My eyes drifted to Carla who stood by herself, clinging to a glass of water. Her parents were dancing. I made a beeline for her. She spotted me and quickly averted her eyes in the demure way she had. I held out my hand. “Would you dance with me?”

  “Of course.”

  We danced for a while in silence before I bridged the subject that had been bothering me. “Are you sure you want to marry me?”

  Her eyes grew wide. “Absolutely. We marry in three months… do we?”

  I inclined my head. It had taken considerable effort to convince Father to have the wedding the same year as Ines’ but I didn’t want to wait. Carla’s parents were very conservative and she had already turned eighteen several months ago. “You seemed reluctant.”

  “I’m not, honestly. I’m only keeping my distance considering we’re not married yet.” She gave me her first honest smile of the day.

  “Three months.”

  She smiled a bit wider, blushing, and nodded, and as usual, a sense of calm flooded me in her presence. After my dance with Carla, I headed toward my brother-in-law to deal with the second matter on my list.

  Pietro laughed at something Rocco said. Since the old Scuderi’s death and Rocco had taken over as Consigliere his demeanor had changed. Now nobody called him Squirt anymore. Freed of his father and brother, he showed that he was a Scuderi through and through, not as depraved as them but cunning and brutal. A good Consigliere, one who was loyal to me, not my father.

  “I’d like to have a word with you.”

  Pietro nodded and followed me to a secluded area.

  “You remember a year ago you told me Jacopo was a monster and that Ines shouldn’t be given to him.”

  Pietro watched Ines talk to Carla before he turned back to me, brows pulling together. “Of course. I’m glad he got killed.”

  “I hope you’ll prove tonight and every day that follows that you are a better man than Jacopo, that you deserve my sister,” I said quietly, stepping closer to him.

  Pietro held my gaze. “If I don’t, will the Bratva give me an early end as well?”

  “I hope it won’t come to it.”

  “It won’t. And not because I fear the consequences.” His expression was hard. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to talk to my wife.”

  I was tense, had been all night and all morning. Pietro and Ines finally stepped in and applause sounded. I didn’t join in. Pietro had his arm wrapped possessively around Ines’ waist, but Ines was leaning into him, seeking his closeness and protection as the force of everyone’s attention hit her. She held her head high despite the slight blush on her cheeks. She peered up at Pietro without a hint of fear and he returned her gaze with adoration. When he noticed my attention, his expression smoothed, turned into blank calm. He gave me a curt nod, and I returned it because one look at my sister told me he’d treated her the way she deserved it. Maybe betraying the Outfit for my sister would eventually come with a price, but I was willing to pay it.

  Ines—the first woman I betrayed the Outfit for.

  It was only the beginning.

  12 years later

  I held Carla’s hand, pressed my lips against her knuckles. Her skin was ashen, her breathing labored, pained… I raised my eyes, found her watching me with tired, sad eyes. “I’m sorry I could never give you children.”

  I shook my head, touched her cheek and pressed a kiss to her dry lips. “Carla, nothing of this matters.”

  “This is all a part of God’s plan, my love.”

  I didn’t say anything. In all the years, Carla’s faith had never rubbed off on me, no matter how hard she’d tried. I wasn’t a believer, now less than ever. If there was a God and this was his plan, I’d never forgive him.

  “Don’t… don’t be angry. Don’t let it consume you.”

  I’d have given her the world. But this wasn’t something I could promise. Anger was already boiling in my chest, waiting to spill forth.

  “Will you pray with me?”

  I cupped her hands, nodding and lowered my head. Carla’s whispered prayers bounced off my rising despair. Carla was everything good in my life. She contrasted me. Without her… what would I become?

  The morphine wasn’t strong enough to make Carla’s waking hours bearable—unless the doctors gave her so much that her state was almost comatose.

  I held her hand as she whimpered, her face sunken in completely. Few of my enemies had suffered under my torture as much as Carla did in the last days of her life. It wasn’t fair. Nothing could make me believe otherwise.

  “I know suicide is sin, but I want this to be over. I just want it to stop.” She swallowed. “I can’t… take anymore.”

  I froze. I’d known it was only a matter of time before we’d have to say goodbye, but Carla’s words threw the stark reality of it into my face.

  I kissed her hand. “It’s not really suicide if death comes through my hand, my love.”

  “Dante—”

  “I’ve done worse.” That w
as a lie. This would break the last human part in me, but if anyone was worth that sacrifice, it was Carla.

  “Are you sure?” In the past she would have argued with me, recited Bible passages, appealed to the good in me. That she didn’t even try showed how bad it was.

  I nodded.

  “You can shoot me. That’s quick and easy for you.”

  Nothing about this would be easy. And I’d never disgrace Carla by killing her like I would a goddamn traitor. “Don’t worry about it. Tomorrow everything will be over and you’ll be at a better place.”

  I didn’t believe in Heaven or Hell. If there was, our goodbye would be eternal.

  That evening was the last I spent with Carla.

  When I stepped up to the bed, Carla smiled weakly. She knew what I was about to do and relief shone in her eyes. I hadn’t discussed the details with her. She’d always preferred to stay in the dark regarding the brutal sides of life. I reached into my pant pocket and pulled out the syringe with the insulin. I lay down on the bed beside Carla and stroked a few strands of her soft hair. Streaks of gray mingled in it, like the wrinkles around her eyes and mouth, they were marks of her battle against this demonic sickness. A battle she’d lost. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “You’ll find new happiness.”

  I didn’t say anything because every word would have either made Carla sad or been a lie.

  With shaking hands, I prepared the syringe. Hands that were always steady no matter what happened. Not now. “I love you, Dante.”

  I swallowed. “And I love you, will always only love you, Carla.”

  She squeezed my hand with sad eyes then gave a small nod.

  Looking into her eyes, I pushed the syringe into her arm. Before I injected her, I cradled her in my arms and kissed her once more. Seconds after the injection, Carla lost consciousness and as I held her in my arms, her breathing stopped.

  I kept holding her even as she became cold, even as the silence in the room echoed loudly in my head. Night fell outside and then it became light again, and I still cradled her in my arms. Steps sounded in the house. Slowly, I slid my arm out from under her body and put her head down on the pillow. After I pulled out the syringe and thrust it into the bin, I kissed her eyelids and stood.

  I couldn’t look away from her lifeless body, even though the sight of it crushed my heart.

  “Master?” Zita called, and for a moment I considered sending her away so I could be alone with Carla’s body and my sorrow, but I couldn’t hide like this forever. I couldn’t do what I wanted—lay down beside my wife again and wait for death to claim me as well. Life needed to go on. I wasn’t sure how it could though.

  Ines squeezed my hand under the table as she kept on her conversation with Mother. I didn’t react to her attempt at consoling me, instead I excused myself and headed for the gardens, needing to get away from all the people who pretended they cared about Carla’s death when all they wanted was to get into my good graces, knowing it was only a matter of time before I’d take over as the Boss officially from my father as well.

  I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been this angry but without an outlet to release my emotions. Carla’s death had been like a cluster bomb and since then my insides felt frayed, torn, irrevocably damaged. My sorrow hadn’t diminished, if possible it had grown in the days since I’d killed her and with it my fury, my need to share this agony the only way I could, by inflicting it on others.

  Steps raised my protective walls but I didn’t have to mask my face into one of calm, it always was. My muscles seemed perfectly frozen even as my insides burnt with emotions that threatened to unravel me and with it possibly the Outfit.

  Pietro stopped beside me, not saying a word and stared up at the night sky like I did. After a couple of minutes, he slanted me a look. “We’ll stay for a week. Your mother is happy to have the twins around and Ines thought it would do you good to have family close by.”

  I gave a terse nod.

  “Dante,” Pietro said quietly, angling his body toward me and I knew his words wouldn’t do what they were intended to do even before he spoke them. “If you need someone to talk, you know you can come to me. You don’t have to bear this loss by yourself.”

  One hand curled to a fist at my side, I nodded again, and Pietro finally retreated.

  The night sky seemed endless and foreboding tonight. I wanted to believe Carla was up there somewhere, looking down at me. Maybe it would have offered me a flicker of consolation if I believed in an existence after death. I didn’t, and consolation was unreachable. The images of Carla’s lifeless body, of her casket being lowered into the dank soil slithered through my mind like poisonous snakes.

  Two days later, my parents invited the Scuderis over for dinner and despite my need to be alone, I attended the gathering. There was no one at home waiting for me and my duty to the Outfit bound me to be present. It wouldn’t do good to appear weak, not so shortly before my rise to become Capo.

  Ines, Pietro, and the twins were there as well. The Scuderi sisters were too old to play with them but Fabiano was only a year older and so he joined Serafina and Samuel in a corner of the room after dinner to play. I barely listened to the conversation, even if it was about the Famiglia and how to assure peace with them.

  “A marriage would bind us. Salvatore is eager to find a beautiful bride for his son Luca,” Father said.

  “He’s interested in Aria,” Rocco said. “An immediate wedding preferably.”

  My gaze turned to the girl who was chatting with her sisters on the sofa. She was fifteen, too young for marriage and too innocent for someone of Vitiello’s disposition.

  “That man killed his cousin with his bare hands. I’m not sure if a union between him and one of our girls can be the foundation of peace,” Ines said.

  Father’s brows tightened with disapproval, and Mother made a small shush noise toward Ines. “Your opinion isn’t appreciated at this table, Ines. You better concern yourself with how to please your husband and control your children, especially your daughter, she needs to learn her place.”

  Serafina was brawling with the boys, holding her own despite her angelic appearance.

  In the past, Ines would have ducked her head but as Pietro’s wife, she only had to obey him, not Father, and Pietro didn’t appear annoyed by her speaking up.

  “I’ll teach my daughter her place, don’t worry.” Ines had mastered the art of subtle defiance and polite criticism, and so she smiled even though her eyes reflected the same aversion I felt toward our father.

  Father’s mouth pinched and he looked at me as if he waited for me to rebuke Ines. He knew my sister valued my opinion more than his. I lifted my glass and took a sip of my wine, not in the slightest interested to get involved in this, not today, not when my mind kept replaying Carla’s last smile, her last breath, the moment her fingers went slack in mine.

  “There’s of course something to consider before we decide to give Aria to Luca.” Father’s smile was reptile-like, and my muscles tightened in preparation for his next words. “Aria could give the Outfit beautiful blond children. You need a new wife and an heir.”

  Despite my best intentions, the words hit me like a sledgehammer. After so many years, Father had finally found something to cut me once more. Keeping my face neutral was an agonizing struggle.

  “Carla’s funeral was only two days ago!” Ines hissed, glancing toward me in blatant concern. “Don’t you have an ounce of respect for her memory and for Dante’s sorrow?”

  “You’d do well to respect the man who decides over life and death in this territory,” Father said.

  Pietro grabbed Ines’ hand and from the look in his eyes, I knew he was about to say something that would get him in trouble with my father, and while Father would hesitate before disposing of an Underboss, he would never dispose of me because he wanted his blood to live on and I was his only option. I stood and thrust my palm down on the table, letting my anger out and balling my sadness into a tight knot in
side of me. “This conversation isn’t happening.”

  Even the kids fell silent as they watched me open-mouthed.

  I stepped back and stalked out of the room, seething, and continued toward the front door, needing fresh air. Father wouldn’t give up that easily.

  My suspicion proved correct when Father and I were invited over to the Scuderi mansion a few days later to discuss the newest developments of a possible union with the Famiglia.

  Father had talked to Salvatore Vitiello several times in the last few days while I’d stepped back to gather myself. My mental state wouldn’t do us any favors in business negotiations at the time being. Luca and Salvatore could smell weakness from miles away.

  “I sent Salvatore photos of Aria and Gianna,” Father said. “He’d accept either of them but he prefers Aria.”

  Rocco shook his head. “Gianna’s too boisterous. He’ll beat her to death and then we’ll be left with the problem of how to react appropriately. She needs someone who knows how to control his impulses and break her without killing her. Luca isn’t that kind of man.”

  His eyes slanted to me. I ignored the subtle suggestion. I wouldn’t marry Aria or Gianna. Those girls were thirteen and fifteen, mere children, and I was a man who only harbored darkness after Carla’s death.

  “We have to make tactical choices that benefit the Outfit, son.”

  I nodded. “That’s true. Giving Aria to Luca seems the wiser choice. I think she’ll be less likely to provoke him than Gianna.” Considering how I’d killed Jacopo to protect Ines from a monster, it was ironic how I agreed to give another innocent girl to a monster for the sake of the Outfit. Sacrifices needed to be made, it was Father’s credo. I knew there was only one way to save Aria from Luca’s clutches and that was if I wanted her for myself. Father and Rocco would readily agree. It would spare her the cruelty under Luca’s hand and it would get Father off my back, allow me to bury myself in my grief without constant surveillance. I could insist on a marriage in three years, and even if Father demanded a closer date, I knew Aria would be glad if I didn’t act like a husband, if I didn’t try to lay claim on her. My insides tightened at the mere idea of being with someone other than Carla, of making a vow of that proportion when Carla was the only woman I wanted to be bound to.