Her face spasmed with something like horror.
“What?” I asked, foreboding rolling through me.
“I…” she sucked in a deep breath. “Bambi came to me a few times in New York. She said she was having troubles with a boyfriend who was getting rough with her. She said she worried about her safety and Aurora’s. Even when I pressed, she wouldn’t tell me who the man was but now…”
“Marco,” I breathed out as her words sucker punched me in the gut. “No, there’s no way he would hurt a woman. You know him, too.”
She bit her red lip. “I know. I honestly never got those vibes from him. But how else are we supposed to connect the dots? If he kept his affair with Bambi secret from you is it so unlikely he would be the kind of man who would beat his partner?”
“Or become a mole,” I muttered darkly, bitterness on the back of my tongue as the piece of my heart that had belonged to Marco burned up to ash.
We were quite for a long moment, standing under the awning of greenery and sugar-sweet lemons with the knife of betrayal run through both our backs.
“We have to get back,” Elena said suddenly, clutching at my forearms, nailing digging deep. “Marco could have compromised everyone. What if they took him out because they’d gotten enough from him and now they’re going for everyone else?”
“They won’t just take out every person in the Camorra,” I assured her, though my heart had turned to lead, poisoned, a dead weight in my chest cavity. “They’ll go for our businesses first and if there is anyone in the way, they’ll take those men out. Addie is still recovering, he’ll be careful. Chen and Jacopo are smart.”
“And Bambi? Aurora? I don’t feel comfortable not being there to comfort them,” she admitted. “We haven’t known each other long, but Bambi trusts me. If I could talk to her, maybe she would tell me something. Maybe Marco told her what was going on.”
“I doubt it. If he was mole, the shit went deep and he would not jeopardize himself by confessing to a woman I’m that close to you. There’s a chance I’m wrong. Cazzo, more than a chance.” I raked my hands through my hair then punched a massive lemon off a limb, the fruit bursting at the impact.
Elena calmly picked a piece of rind out of her hair before collecting my heavy fists in her hands. “I don’t want to leave you, but should I go back? I could help.”
“You’ve known these people for four months and you’d go back for them.” I ran my thumbs over her cheekbones as I shook my head incredulously. “This from a woman who is convinced she is a villain.”
“I’m a terrible person. I’m not afraid to admit I’ve done some terrible things,” she said, as if I didn’t understand.
But I did.
I understood that anytime someone attempted to offer her comfort or praise, she shied away. She tried to poison it with the alchemy of her self-hate.
Anger crashed into my chest like a sixteen-wheeler. If I knew who or what had caused her to feel that way about herself, I would hunt it down and rip it into pieces with my bare hands before lighting that shit on fire.
“They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but so is goodness,” I told her, folding her into my arms, her slightness fitted perfectly to my broad chest, her head tucked beneath my chin. “By my definition, there is no one braver or worthier of love and admiration than you.”
“Are you trying to make me cry?” she demanded, shoving away from me as if she was irritated.
But I caught the pleased glow in her cheeks, the curl of that poppy red mouth.
“Never,” I swore. “And there will never be a time where I want to be parted from you so get the idea of going to New York alone out of your head. You belong by my side.”
She glared at me under a raised brow and fisted her hands on her hips. “Because I’m a woman and you’re a man?”
“Because you’re Elena and I’m Dante,” I corrected. “I belong at your side just the same.”
“Then tell me the plan,” she demanded, even going to far as to stomp her wedged heel into the ground, releasing a burst of tangy citrus into the air. “And don’t tell me not to worry my pretty little head about it.”
“I would never,” I said, fighting back my smile because fuck, she was captivating.
“Make a choice, Dante. I’m not going to hide out of sight or stay one step behind you. I’m your woman? Then I’ll always stand beside you. I know you think that’s what you want, but that isn’t the world you rule in. Are you really prepared to make me a part of your life in every way?”
“Are you ready to be part of it? There is no going back once you’re Made, Lena.”
“Can women be Made?” Her eyes were wide, not with shock, but with intrigue.
I snorted. “This is the 21st century, there are female capos though not many of them. The Cosa Nostra even have a Donna who rules with an iron fist in Chicago.”
“Then Make me, or whatever,” she demanded.
“This is a serious commitment, Elena,” I said, a growling edge to my words because she didn’t seem to understand. “Just being associated with me put you in danger in New York. Gideone di Carlo, a man known as ‘The Butcher,’ approached you. Thomas Kelly abducted you.”
“Please,” she waved her hand through her air in that Italian way and I realized we were speaking Italian again, her voice fluid and lilting. Only two days in her homeland and Elena was already forgetting her diastase for her country. “Seamus abducted me. Don’t kid yourself and think you are the first man to put me in danger. Seamus was ground zero. I grew up knowing exactly what the Camorra does in the shadows. You don’t have to shield me from shit, Edward Dante. I’m a big girl. A smart girl. I can make my own decisions and the most important one I’ve ever made in my life was getting on that damn plane with you. I left everything to be yours! So do it. Make me yours and never let me go.”
The edge of desperation in her voice tore through me. I approached her the way I would a startled mustang, gently, hands up and open. “Lena, I won’t leave you. Ever. Even if you stay out of my business.”
She glared at me with those stormy eyes, shifting and swirling like grey clouds into angry formations. “Prove it.”
“I won’t have you goad me into ruining your reputation,” I barked, finally losing my cool.
There was too much.
Marco, Bambi, the di Carlos.
Rocco, Mirabella Ianni, the entire fucking Camorra.
I lost it.
“Fuck my sterling reputation,” she snapped, the flames of my rage catching on her edges and igniting her entire body. “I worked so hard for that and it got me nowhere. Unhappy and alone. I don’t care what anyone thinks any more. No one but you and the family we love.”
“What about the law? You want law enforcement agencies around the world to know you’re an associate of one of the most notorious mafiosos in America?” I demanded, plucking a lemon from the tree and fisting it tight in my palm. The fruit exploded, pulp running down my fingers. “There goes your legal career.”
“Mafiosos have lawyers,” she retorted mulishly, crossing her arms and bracing her feet like a soldier about to do battle.