Home > Machiavellian (Gangsters of New York, #1)(65)

Machiavellian (Gangsters of New York, #1)(65)
Author: Bella Di Corte

“Are you coming?” I said.

“In a minute. I have another call to make.”

I hesitated.

“Do not be afraid, Mariposa. I will not allow them to hurt you.”

“Are they…bad men?”

“Sì. They are two of the worst. If you ever see them on the street, turn the other way. Are we clear?”

“Crystal.” I knew they were bad news, but I was hoping he’d give me a little more information.

Leaving Rocco to make his call, I entered the church. It was quiet, and in the stillness, memories from our second wedding assaulted me. The day had brought so much joy.

Nonno.

I’d never forget how alive he was. Hours ago, he was a silent figure in a coffin.

Churches were like hospitals in that way. The invisible line between life and death were constantly being tripped over.

My heels barely made a sound as I walked, but when I entered into the actual church, I stopped and hid in the shadows. Capo sat on one of the pews, and Gigi sat right next to him, her hand on his shoulder. When she started to cry, he reached out and squeezed her neck.

“Amadeo,” she sniffed. Then she rested her head against his shoulder.

I never thought of myself as a vengeful person. I never had a good enough reason to get someone back. Most of the time, if a person made me run, I kept running to keep out of trouble. But on a day when so much had been sealed, never to be opened again, it was still hard to tame down the sudden urge to hurt her. Hurt her as much as she was hurting me.

Capo was my husband. Not hers.

My lack of experience, especially in comforting a man when he was down, was never so apparent in that moment. She was offering just enough strength for him to feel it, but at the same time, just enough vulnerability so that he wouldn’t feel weak. And she had used his special name. Amadeo. She always did. The name he’d never given me the option to use.

After a few minutes, Rocco entered the church. When he saw me standing there, he looked between the two sitting in front of the altar and me. Then he continued ahead and called on Capo. Gigi turned to look but Capo didn’t. Before she stood, she placed a soft kiss on his cheek, probably leaving a red smear behind.

Rocco took a seat next to Capo, and his words were heated and low.

Gigi grew closer to me. Her perfect face looked even more stunning with tears. She took a tissue out of her purse and dabbed at her cheeks. “He is all yours,” she said. “Take care of him.”

I said nothing, looking away, trying not to breathe when her expensive perfume lingered in the air after she’d gone. Rocco and Capo’s voices were still hushed, but Rocco had stood. Whatever Capo had told him, or not, made him angry.

“Would you like me to bring you home?” Rocco said as he prepared to leave.

“No,” I said. “I’ll stay with him.”

He nodded and then left.

I took slow steps to where my husband sat, a lone figure in a massive church. I replaced Rocco, sitting right next to him. He hadn’t even looked at me when I sat down. His eyes were raised, and nothing showed on his face. It was cold and hard. I wondered if it was truly a waste of time to keep trying to avoid his massive waves. Would he ever truly let me, or anyone, in?

We were silent for a little while. Then his hand reached out and stilled my leg. I hadn’t realized it was moving up and down nervously.

“Speak your piece, Mariposa.”

“Capo.” I took a deep breath in and then released it in a whispered push. “Life is short. It’s too short not to live, and not to keep love after you’ve found it. You should be with Gigi. You obviously love her. I—I don’t want to stand in the way of that. Whatever it is between you two, you should go for it.”

I stood, about to leave, when he said, “You would leave me that easily.” He never looked at me. He kept staring up, but the tone of his voice stopped me.

Easily? That easily? He had no idea how much I suffered, too. How much his grandfather and his entire family meant to me. How much he meant to me. But getting to know his family, his grandfather, had given me the courage to say the words. You should go for it.

Like a recipe, sometimes it took more fear than anything else to make courage, to make selflessness. Even though it hurt me in a place in my heart that I never knew existed until him, and it made me furious to think about them together, if Capo had found love, and Gigi was what he wanted—I refused to stand in the way. Whatever reason sent him looking for me was not good enough. A deal was not good enough. Nothing was good enough if true love found you.

“It’s not that easy,” I said. “It’s not that simple. You know my feelings on love. Loyalty is the foundation, but love, love is the entire house. It trumps all. One reason. Amore. The only reason to send me walking away from you.”

Love was both the reason to stay and the reason to go.

“You’re taking the path of the real mother,” he said.

He was grieving, and apparently, not using all of his words. “Real mother?” I asked, confused.

“An old story. It goes something like this. Two women were fighting over one baby, both claiming to be the baby’s mother. The king finds out about the feud and summons both women to his chamber. He listens to both sides but has no idea who the real mother is. So he does what a king does best and makes his ruling based on what he knows.

“He tells the two mothers that since he can’t truly make a decision, the baby belongs to both of them. He’s going to take his sword and cut the baby in half. Each mother gets half. One mother agrees to this. The other mother refuses. She tells the king the other woman can have the child. She doesn’t want to see him hurt. The king gives the selfless woman the baby.”

“She loved the baby enough to sacrifice her own heart for him,” I said.

“Even cared for him would do. It didn’t have to be love.”

“I guess you can call me the real mother then. Though, when Gigi left, she told me to take care of you. So what happens if we both give you to the king?”

“Neither of you will be giving me to the king,” he said.

It was odd, but I could’ve sworn his next words would’ve been, because I am the king.

“Capo—”

“I don’t have the patience for this right now, Mariposa.”

“I understand. It was stupid for me to even bring it up.” It was. I let my emotions get the best of me, but truly, I wanted him to be happy. His grandfather’s death just proved that we only have the here and now—one life to live. “Take care of yourself, Capo,” I whispered before I started to walk away. Money aside, I never asked for much, but in that moment, I demanded clarity on this, on love, like I demanded his respect.

“You don’t need permission to call me Amadeo,” he said, and I stopped, my back to him. “Nonno gave me the name. He wanted that to be my name since birth. That’s why my family calls me Amadeo. It’s your right to call me whatever you want. I’d never allow another person to call me Capo or husband, though. Those are yours alone. You named me, Mariposa, just like I named you. The rest.” He sighed. “Doesn’t matter. Names are just names. Labels that are only surface deep.”

He must have felt my hesitation, because he cleared his throat. “Gigi is Stella’s daughter. My first cousin, so what you’re implying is incest. It never seemed to come up in conversation who she was to me, and honestly, I enjoyed you being jealous when you thought she was someone to me.”

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