DIANA
Vinny DeMarco's estate was like nothing I'd ever seen before. It was located not too far outside of the city, clearly for the sake of his own comfort and privacy. Passing the large security gate, we drove up the long, paver stone driveway until we reached the loop in front of the Mediterranean-style mansion, a jaw-dropping fountain set right in the middle of the green, manicured lawn that was located in the center.
"Wow," I said, gazing at the breathtaking, nineteen-million-dollar home and all its glory as we pulled up in front of it. FBI surveillance photos from the outside gate didn't do the place justice. This was the kind of home that only a king could live in. Or, in this case, a Mob boss.
It was exactly a week after the Giordano wedding—May twenty-eighth—and Vinny was expecting us for lunch. On this perfect Saturday, it was a beautiful Spring day, and everything felt perfect. My supposed love interest parked the white Bentley in front of the estate's third garage door and turned off the engine. "Leave your phone here," he said, placing his own in the middle console.
"Huh?"
"Your phone—it stays in the car. Leave it here."
I understood clearly now. Vinny didn't want any phones in his house. At least, not for this specific visit.
"Okay." I took out my cell phone from my small clutch purse and placed it in the console, right beside his. The fact that my phone wasn't the only one being requested to be left behind eased my nerves a bit. And, at least, he didn't say anything about shutting them off. It meant that I most likely was getting the chance to live another day.
It surprised me when Julian took my hand as we walked up to the front steps of his father's home, interlacing his fingers with mine as if he wasn't ashamed to show I was someone special to him. The sun shined down on our backs as we awaited for one of the elegant, tall, double-entry doors to open. I could see a short, dark-haired woman approaching through the decorated glass.
Julian smiled—something he seldomly ever did around people—as the short, older woman on the other side opened the left door. She looked just as happy to see Julian as he did to see her. "Mima," he greeted with warmth. "How are you?"
"Il mio piccolo principe," she happily replied, calling him her little prince. There was an automatic fondness for him—she absolutely adored this man as if he were her own son.
This was the woman who watched Julian grow up in this home as a young child. Her name was Mima Palazzo, and she had been employed by Vinny DeMarco for the past thirty years. Throughout that time, she worked as their cook and nanny. "Entra, entra," she beamed after giving him a kiss on the cheek.
"Mima, this is Camila," Julian said as the woman happily ushered us inside the home, "mio amico."
He called me his friend, but I knew that was only because he wasn't ready to verbally label us as anything else out loud. Julian was a man who showed who he was by his actions, not his words. He may have called me his "friend" in that moment, but the display of him holding my hand revealed I was much more to him just than that.
"Nice to meet you, Camila," Mima greeted with her thick Italian accent once I was in the grand foyer. She cupped my face tightly and kissed both my cheeks.
"It's nice to meet you, too, Mima," I replied sweetly, already comfortable with her as if she were my own grandmother.
"Lei è Bellissima," she said with a wink towards Julian as he shut the door behind us. "E spero che sia più di un amico."
I chuckled at her words. She told him I was beautiful and that she hoped I was more than a friend.
"Is Vinny in his study?" he asked.
"Lui è in cucina. Venire." He was in the kitchen, she said, and then she began leading us further inside.
The first thing to be seen as you entered the home was the stunning, grand double staircase and beautiful side wall mirrors that reached the ceilings. It was absolutely breathtaking. The color scheme of the entire front of the mansion was cream and black, the flooring set with elegant Italian marble. But the magnificent, oval dome ceiling window above us was what absolutely stole the show and made the infamous home what it was. Everything from the floors to the ceilings of this place screamed money. And I knew, not all of it had been clean money.
We were led through the enormous and beautifully-decorated home, off to the left where the large, bright, open-spaced kitchen was. A delightful aroma wafted through the air as we entered, making my mouth salivate. "Please tell me we're having your Chicken Scallopini," Julian said.
Whatever Mima was making in the kitchen, it smelled fucking amazing. "Sí," she replied. "Il tuo preferito."
"That always was his favorite dish," Vinny's deep voice came from nearby. He walked out of the grand dining area and entered the kitchen, then smiled at us and said, "Glad you two could make it. Welcome."
"Was that Carlo's car I saw outside?" Julian asked his father as he stepped toward him.
"It is. Fully restored. Had your brother take it for a wash this morning." The vehicle in question they were referring to was the black 1969 Mercedes Benz parked outside in front of parking garage number six. It belonged to Julian's grandfather, Carlo DeMarco, who was Vinny's father. He'd passed away a little over a year ago.
"Lovely to see you again, Camila," Vinny greeted as he leaned in to kiss my cheek.
"You, too. Thank you for having me," I politely replied.
"Of course. I trust my son has been on his best behavior lately."
"Ever the gentleman," I said convincingly.
"Glad to hear it. Well, sit down and get comfortable. Mima is about ready to serve lunch now."
Julian led me to the large table in the grand dining room and pulled out a seat for me to sit, then sat down next to me, directly beside Vinny, who sat at the head of the large table.
"My wife sends her apologies for not being present for lunch this afternoon," Vinny said. "She had to fly out this morning to New York go be with her sister who's in the hospital."
"Oh, well, I hope she's okay," I replied, intentionally sounding concerned for his sister-in-law. His wife, Caterina DeMarco, may have been born into the Outfit along with her other siblings, but her older sister, Valerie, had the unfortunate luck of being forced to marry into one of the five New York families. She was now married to a Cosa Nostra man.
That was the reason Vinny ended up marrying her younger sister Caterina after his first wife died. In exchange for marrying off Reggie Solano's eldest daughter to La Cosa Nostra—for peace-keeping reasons—he vowed to make sure his youngest daughter would be set by marrying the most powerful man of the Chicago Outfit—himself. But, of course, three years' time had changed many things within this Chicago crime family.
After enjoying a delicious Italian lunch, the three of us moved to the large living room where Vinny usually entertained his guests. He spoke of times when his father, the great Carlo DeMarco, raised him as a young child, sharing stories about their earlier times in Melrose Park. To our surprise, he started sharing stories that even Julian had never heard.
As Vinny carried on the conversation with his son, I carefully took in his features so that they'd be etched into my memory forever. That thick, aged skin of his... with a few lines of wrinkles on his forehead. That strong nose and square jaw. That slicked-back salt-and-pepper hair with a little more white throughout it than black, that had recently thinned out. Those steel-blue eyes of his that he passed down to his oldest son, only hooded beneath his dark brows, and the way they held years and years of wisdom and experience behind them.
Vinny DeMarco was probably the most respected mob boss Chicago ever had. And people didn't have to give him their respect out of fear; they gave it to him willingly, because he was a damned good boss. He was a smart, calculating man, and he always took care of his own. He also ran shit a certain way. He was old school, like the old bosses before him, but he also brought originality and structure—structure that the Outfit desperately needed.
But Vinny's days left as a boss were now unfortunately numbered, and the Outfit was already becoming undone right under his nose. His illness was somehow allowing him to no longer crack the whip on his men, and his lack of appearance was leading them to continue with their mistakes. It was something that his son needed to change. Frankly, I was surprised he hadn't yet.
°°°
Mine and Vinny's stroll through the large backyard garden was incredibly peaceful. The landscaping was absolutely out of this world. Trimmed hedges, plants, colorful hydrangeas and roses, and beautiful statues everywhere. Trees lined up in just the right places, offering the perfect amount of both sun and shade. Everything was so green and vibrant. I could tell that Spring had really brought the beauty of it all back to life.
We followed the curves of the stone pathway and met up with the large, round fountain in the center, where another beautiful female statue was. The sound of nature and the fountain's water flowing brought peace and serenity. It was a place I didn't want to leave.
"This place is beautiful," I said to Vinny. "You're a very lucky man to be able to wake up to this every morning."
"That I am," he said, moving toward a nearby stone bench that rested up ahead. He gestured for us to sit down, and so we did. "I've lived a very fortunate life these past few decades, despite enduring the loss of my first wife."
There was the faintest sound of heartache as he mentioned her. For a man such as Vinny DeMarco to be sharing something like that with me, I knew this was going to be one of those real conversations. I'd been waiting for a vulnerable moment with Vinny like this for months.
"Julian mentioned her passing away a few years ago. I'm sorry."
"Don't be. I had thirty years with her—and no regrets. That woman shaped me into the man I needed to be. She gave me two sons and the best thirty years a man could ever ask for. Most people never get a great love like that in their lifetime. I, however, was lucky enough to."
"Thirty years. That seems like a lifetime itself."
"Oh, they go by faster than you want 'em to. Believe me."
"Julian looks like her, doesn't he? I've seen a picture of all of you from when he was just a kid. It was a barbeque, I think. You were holding your youngest son in your arms with your wife beside you, and Julian was sitting on her lap."
"I have that same picture on my mantle in my office. It's my favorite one of us. Julian reminds me of her in many ways—sharp, astute, assertive, determined. That woman was absolutely fearless. Oh, and stubborn."
I smiled. "So, that's where he gets it from," I concluded.
"Oh, yes," he replied with a chuckle. "They actually shared the same birthday. Every year, we threw this grand party for the twoof them. When Julian turned twenty one, however, he wanted to cancel his celebration plans with the family, all because he had the idea of spending the weekend somewhere else with some new 'friend' of his—one who the family had never even been introduced to before. Anyway, his mother decided to stubbornly cancel the joint-birthday party that they'd always shared together. She said, if she couldn't share her special day with her son, she didn't want a celebration at all; she'd rather eat overcooked manicotti while sitting at the dinner table all by herself in her robe and slippers, with a bitter glass of wine."
I honestly couldn't help but laugh at that. "Mind you," he added, "her plan to make him feel guilty and change his mind actually worked."
The woman really knew how to get her way with these DeMarco men. I admired that. "I'll have to keep that one in mind," I said.
Vinny started coughing again from laughing at the fond memory of his first wife. He took his handkerchief out of his pocket and used it to cover his mouth.
"Are you okay?" I asked with my hand behind his shoulder. Vinny just nodded, trying to catch his breath again, but I could tell his chest was hurting him whenever he coughed.
"You'll have to excuse me," he said. "I'm still trying to shake this damn flu."
The flu. That was a nice way of saying lung cancer symptoms. Vinny had no idea I was aware. Mendoza had briefed me on what the Bureau was able to dig up in just five days. The DeMarco crime boss had roughly less than a year to live.
I gave him a look that said I wasn't judging him, but that I was concerned. "You're not just getting over a flu... are you?"
He exhaled slowly and deeply, staring out at the beautiful garden we were in. "No... I'm afraid not."
"Is it... serious?" I asked.
"It is," he answered after a moment, staring past the fountain in front of us. "Winter has kept me indoors mostly—doctor's orders. Due to my health, I haven't been around as much as I'd like to have been these past few months. Right now, I'm just trying to prepare my sons for the day I'm no longer here."
In that moment, I hoped that I was still around when that day came. I needed to get closer to Julian and the rest of the family, enough for them to accept me into their folds so that I'd gain the access to dismantle their entire empire.
"You did a great job raising him," I said, referring to Julian. "He respects you—and your opinion of him—greatly."
"He's always been my good son," Vinny replied with a hint of pride. "Never gave me too many problems or any back-talk. His brother, on the other hand—let's just say he's the reason for all this gray in my hair."
I chuckled at that. Julian's brother, Damien, was the reason for a lot of things. Chicago PD and the Bureau suspected he played a hand in the killing and mutilation of Officer Antonio Guzzi, who'd been undercover with the DeMarco crime family the previous year. I still hadn't met him or Renato Mancini. I was waiting for that day.
"You know," Vinny said, "I was aware, several weeks ago, that you were present in my son's life."
I tried to look somewhat surprised. "Oh?"
"Yes. I believe it was toward the end of March. There was a powerful snow storm that night. Julian came to check in on me, see if I was okay because a lot of the power lines were down that evening and there was no cell service. I told him I was fine, that he shouldn't have bothered, but he stayed here a while anyway. Later, when the storm got much worse, I told him he wasn't going anywhere. Didn't want to risk anything happening to my son out there."
I gave a soft nod to show my understanding. "Of course." The boss's word was law. In the mafia world, you did whatever the hell the boss told you to do. Even if he was your own father and you didn't agree with him.
Vinny gave a small chuckle. "He wasn't very happy about that, though."
I smiled softly. "Well, in my experience, Julian isn't exactly comfortable with hearing the word 'no.'"
"True, but... that's when I discovered that there was a you."
Now, I truly was interested.
"Julian couldn't get a hold of you that night," Vinny explained. "He was worried. He couldn't sleep—just kept pacing throughout the house. His lack of an explanation led me to believe there was only one reason for his behavior. Hell... he had the same look I'd imagined was on my face plenty of times before, when I'd worry about his mother."
Julian was worried about me that night. This was news to me. "And... that's when Julian decided to move me into his penthouse to live with him," I realized. I had never really put the pieces together before. All I knew afterward was that Julian wanted to be with me more often than usual. It was my job to get close to him and infiltrate his life—I saw it as my only opportunity, didn't think much else of it. But I never knew he was that worried about me that night of the storm. He showed up to my small apartment the next day with take-out food like nothing was wrong.
"I let my son keep you hidden after that," Vinny continued. "Figured he'd only bring you around when he was good and ready to—and he did. But all the sneaking around and keeping you out of sights, away from the family... it couldn't have been easy for a man like him. And I know my son—he's been loyal; hasn't even thought of engaging another women since you've been in his life."
I wasn't expecting Vinny to share this type of information with me. He was a mob boss, for Christ's sake—he didn't talk about his or anyone else's feelings. But in this moment, he was something more than just a mob boss. He was a father.
"I'm telling you this, Camila, because my son's future means a great deal to me. As a father, I'll always have both of my sons' best interests at heart. But it's more than that, now."
"I'm not sure I understand," I softly confessed. His tone of voice had changed to something a little more serious than before. Was this the moment he was going to tell me I don't belong anywhere near his family? Did he want Julian to give me up? For me to walk away? My throat went dry and I felt like my heart was pounding in my stomach.
"You see, what I'll be passing on to my sons is a legacy," he said. "When I'm gone, Julian's life won't exactly change for the better; it'll only get more difficult."
I already knew that. He wasn't giving out any new information.
"Tell me," he said, "do you accept my son for who he is?"
I had to give a nod.
"Can you honestly say that you're comfortable with his life, with the fact that he may not be the most pure and innocent human being around? Because, in this life, I've found that if you want a relationship to actually last with someone, you can't just pick and choose which parts of them to love. You have to accept them as a whole—the good and the bad. So, do you accept him for who he already is?"
I didn't feel it was right to just simply respond with a yes or no answer to Vinny's question. I had to remember that I was the woman who needed to fully be accepted into this family... And it all started with Vinny. Now, it was time that I shared a little something with him.
"There was a time, back in February, when I hadn't heard from Julian in over a week," I began. "He wasn't answering his phone, hadn't showed up to meet me at our breakfast spot like he usually did every other morning; he hadn't even showed up to my apartment in the middle of the night like he had started to do. It was like he suddenly dropped off the face of the earth and didn't exist anymore."
I chuckled softly as I looked at the fountain in front of us, thinking back to the day I finally saw Julian again and tore into his ass. "When I saw him nine days later, standing on a street corner, staring at me from across the way as he leaned against his car like it was any other perfect day, I was so pissed. I marched right up to him and pushed him back against the car, asking where the hell he'd been and who the hell he thought he was for just showing back up like that after disappearing."
Vinny laughed, clearly appreciating my style, but I didn't let him interrupt.
"He told me he couldn't promise me that would never happen again," I continued, getting to my point. "He said, 'I like you. I like you a lot. But, if I'm going to be honest, these past few days, you've probably deserved a hell of a lot better than me. I don't want you to walk away, and I don't want to have to go back to going about my life without you being a part of it, but this is what you're signing up for if you want to be with me. I can't promise you I'll answer when you need me most, and I can't promise you I'll always show up... but when I am here, I'll give you all of me. I'll give you the man you deserve to be with."
Vinny gave somewhat of a proud smile. "Sounds like a reasonable offer."
"It still wasn't all rainbows and butterflies after that, and honestly, I didn't expect it to be. We've had our good days, our darker days, and then we've have the great days that I always try to remember when I'm alone and find myself missing him. It's not the ideal love story I imagined having when I was a little girl, but I wouldn't change it for the world. As long as I still get some good days and a few great days every now and then, I know I'll be okay."
Vinny sighed deeply, looking out toward the rest of the beautiful garden. "Compromise. It's something everyone in our world has learned to accept."
"I'm okay with it," I said with a small shrug. "I don't need him to be perfect. I just need him to be the same man he's always been with me, whenever he's around."
"And when he's not around?" Vinny inquired.
"When we're not together, I try to focus soley on business. Keeps my mind occupied most of the time."
"Would you ever consider giving that up?"
His question caught me off guard. I had to think of my reply for a moment. "Well, I wasn't really raised to just sit back and depend on a man to financially take care of me—no offense. I do like my independence."
"But, if he ever asked you to stop working at the salon, would you?"
I looked at Vinny, thinking carefully of my answer. I couldn't give up the salon entirely—it was where I had a lot of my private meetings with Mendoza; it was where I filled him in on most of my undercover progress. "As long as I'd still get to run things behind the scenes and remain the owner, maybe," I slowly answered. "It's something I'd consider. Yeah."
Vinny gave a small nod. "Good."
I wasn't sure why he was so concerned with my future involvement in my own salon. Was Vinny thinking of my safety? Or were all mafia men just that fucking controlling?
I knew Julian wasn't that thrilled with the idea that I wanted to continue working—especially after being introduced to a number of Outfit members—but my drive to run a successful business was something he truly admired about my character. When he first met me, I wasn't just some woman who was looking to be taken care of by a man. No. I was a fearless, independent woman with a drive that matched her ambition and mesmerizing charm that helped me masterfully achieve exactly what I seeked. I had completely reinvented Camila Russo into a force to be reckoned with. There was no way Julian was ever going to pass me up the night he met me. And he didn't.
"My son has changed in these last few months," said Vinny. "I have no doubt you're greatly responsible for that."
It didn't sound like he considered that a bad thing. "Well, he's changed me, as well. For one, I'd never be the same if he ever asked me to walk away and give him up. That's probably what scares me the most," I said, as if I was confessing.
"As strong of a man as my son is, I don't think he'd ever be the same, either," Vinny replied.
I eyed him with slight suspicion. "But you're not actually asking that of me... are you?"
"No," he responded. "I just want to make sure you know what staying in his life from this point on means. I'm sure he's explained to you that he won't always be around, that you won't always be first. There were times when his mother absolutely hated me. I wasn't there when she gave birth to Julian and I can't tell you how many anniversaries I blew with her. He'll never be yours completely; you'll always be sharing him with dozens of other people. Their needs will matter just as much as yours do, if not ten times more."
He let all of that information sink in with me for a while. He was telling me what any woman in my situation needed to hear: I would never come first when it came to Julian's priorities. And he said it without ever using the words "mob" or "boss." He said it all without ever saying the words "We are the Mafia." But I understood very clearly.
"So, do you still think being with him is the right decision for you?" he asked. "Are you certain that you'll be able to live a life where you'll always be kept in the dark about where he's running off to in the middle of the night and what he'll be doing? Because that's the future that's in store for you if you stay... and it'll never change."
I released a long breath as I slightly turned my body so I could get a better look at Julian over my shoulder. He was waiting by the pool, several feet away and out of earshot, hands stuffed in his front pockets. He had been watching Vinny and I the entire time. "Believe me.... if I could walk away, I would have already," I replied. Then I turned my full attention back to Vinny, appearing as vulnerable as any woman in love would look. "It's just not something I see ever happening."
°°°
"So what were you and Vinny talking about?" Julian inquired on our drive back home. His eyes never left the road in front of us as he asked the question. They never even looked in my direction.
"Life, I guess you can say."
"What about it?"
I eyed him with a careful side glance. "Why all the questions?"
"Just want to know what he said to you. Was he... intimidating? Disrespectful?"
"No, and he was anything but that," I informed. In truth, I expected nothing less from Vinny DeMarco. "I think your dad just wants to know for himself that you're choosing the right type of woman to bring around the family."
"And what type of woman is that, exactly?"
"The type of woman who'd never betray you. And more importantly, who'd never give up on you," I said without missing a beat.
This time he turned his head to look at me. "He asked you that? Straight-out?"
"No, not in those words; but I get the feeling that's what he was mainly fishing for. Don't worry, though... I'm sure I made a pretty positive, lasting impression."
Back in the gardens, Vinny tried to tell me that Julian would never share anything mob-related with me. He assumed his son would never tell me anything for my own protection—and because it really wasn't a woman's business to know any details about how the Outfit operated. But I knew that what Vinny was imagining for me and Julian wouldn't be the case for us. I wasn't going to let him keep me in the dark about everything. I was going to somehow assert myself in every God damned thing Outfit-related as I possibly could, and without getting made.
°°°
The sun was setting in the distance as we relaxed out on the West corner of the terrace that same evening. I was busy looking through my emails on my laptop when Julian brought up Joseph Mancini's pregnant wife.
"Stella's been asking about you."
Leaning against the balcony, he let out a long puff from his cigar while I kept silent. I didn't want to appear overly interested, so I clicked away at the keys on the laptop with my eyes on the screen, sending the salon's receptionist, Lauretta, an unnecessary email. "Remind me which one that is again."
"Joey's wife—the one you sat next to at the reception last weekend. The pregnant one."
"Oh... right," I replied, still typing away at the keys. "Yeah, she was sweet."
"She wants to know if you'd like to attend this big baby shower the family's throwing her in a few weeks." As I looked up at him from my computer screen, he added, "You don't have to, if that's not your kind of thing."
"No, that sounds fun. In a few weeks?"
"First Saturday of July."
It was almost June. I still had a lot of time before that day approached, which meant I still had a lot of progress to make with his family.
"Are you planning on being there with me?" I asked. "Or is this one of those women only things?" I was already running possible scenarios through my head—being alone with mafia wives, fiancés and daughters. Would they all accept me as Julian's girlfriend? An all-women baby shower would surely be more intimate than a huge wedding reception. Would this be their chance to reveal their dislike for me or their disapproval or jealousy? Would they be drilling me with dozens and dozens of questions, annoying the hell out of me?
"Afraid I'll throw you to the pack?" he asked with the hint of a smirk.
"Oh, you're well aware I can handle myself." And that was the truth.
"Hey, those heyenas are not to be underestimated. Some of them do know their place, but there are a few who know how to push the limits and test their husbands' patience. But no, you won't be alone. I'll be there, too, just not with you every second."
"So, the men of the family will also be in attendance?"
He gave a nod before taking another hit of his cigar. "You should get used to big gatherings like that. In this family, there's one at least every month. Which reminds me—the baptism ceremony for my cousin's baby is in two weeks."
Yes. Michael Valetti, one of Julian's cousins, was having his first daughter, two-month-old Thea Valetti, baptized in the family's Catholic church in two weeks. I would see Stella Mancini there as well, and it would give me the perfect opportunity to set up some type of lunch date with her.
"Is this your way of formally asking me if I'd like to be your date?" I teased.
"I suppose it is," he answered, sitting down at the edge of my lounge chair. He leaned closer towards me, trailing his hand halfway up my thigh. "You okay with all of this?"
I sat up closer to him, resting my hand on top of his. "Julian... if you want me around your family, then I want that, too. Besides, they seem nice."
He looked down at the cigar between his fingers. "You don't know all of them."
That time, I wasn't exactly sure of who he might have been referring to. He could have been talking about his brother, Damien, or Renato Mancini, or he also could have been referring to his uncle, Frank Valetti. Frank was pretty much the only Outfit man in the higher circle that Julian didn't introduce me to the night of Frankie Giordano's wedding. Something told me he had his reasons.
"Everything will be fine," I said, trying my best to convince him. "I promise. Now, can we please head out to our dinner reservation now? I'm growing quite famished."
He smiled at my lightheartedness. "We can. But first—"
The faint ring of a bell interrupted us. Julian and I both glanced inside the penthouse toward the front entrance. Someone was in the elevator, waiting to be invited in. "You expecting anyone?" I asked him.
"I'll be right back," he said, quickly getting up on his feet. He disappeared inside quicker than I'd ever seen him move before.
For a moment, I thought about who it could be in the elevator. People didn't just come up to visit Julian in the penthouse—they simply knew better. This was Julian's private place, his home, where nobody was allowed to bother him. If it was something important, the Outfit knew to call him on his burner phone. But this was unexpected. The only other person to ever grace us with a surprise visit was—
"Is she here?"
"Who?" Julian quickly replied.
"You know who. Heard you brought her to Frankie's wedding last weekend."
The more I heard his voice, the more certain I was of exactly who it belonged to. I got up from my chair and peeked inside, only to see the back of Damien DeMarco's head—how his short brown hair kept the bold, Roman numeral tattoos on the back of his neck in plain sight. He was facing the entryway where he had just walked in from. I hid a few feet to the left of where I was standing so that Julian wouldn't see me when he returned and I'd be out of his line of sight. I wanted to listen in on their conversation, without either of them being aware.
"Heard you've been busy with your own affairs," came Julian's voice. He didn't sound very pleased with his brother.
"Where the hell have you been these past few days? You missed our meeting this week."
Meeting. I silently scoffed. He meant tribute.
Yeah, I knew about a lot that I wasn't supposed to.
"Had to stay hidden in Melrose. I'll tell you about it another day. I actually came over for my gym bag. Dad said you took it from his house this week. Was wondering why that was."
Julian didn't grace his brother with a response like I had thought he would. Instead it was quiet between them. The only thing I heard was the sound of a door close shut—the storage closet door.
"So, I assume you only took it so I'd have to show my face to you as soon as I resurfaced," said Damien. "By the way, nothing better be missing from inside here."
How did I not know Julian was keeping something of his brother's tucked away in the penthouse? Had I discovered it, I would have searched through every square inch of that damn bag.
"Next time... call first," Julian told his younger brother. It was a cold, good-bye type of response. Damien was seconds away from departing the penthouse. Knowing damn well I couldn't let that happen just yet, I entered inside the room without a second thought. Julian's eyes caught me in a millisecond, then Damien's head whipped right around to look at me.
"Oh... Hi," I said, in a way that appeared as if I was surprised to see an unfamiliar face in the penthouse, yet perfectly fine with it. The younger DeMarco brother looked just as surprised to see me, his eyes taking my appearance in; but he was mostly focused on my face. It was like he was studying an unidentifiable yet somehow interesting creature. I didn't know how to get him to stop looking at me like that. "So... I take it you're the brother?" I said when a few seconds of slightly awkward silence had passed, stepping over to him.
He quickly cleared his throat and turned his body to fully face me, gathering himself. "I am," he replied, extending his hand out to me. "Damien."
"Damien, this is Camila," Julian informed before I could reply. I was already shaking his hand.
"Nice to meet you," I said with a smile. "Um, Julian and I were about to leave for dinner soon. Should I call the restaurant and tell them to change the reservation to three?" My question was directed at Julian. I tried my best to make it appear as if I didn't mind either way if his brother joined us or not, but, deep down, my insides were screaming for him to accompany us.
Damien seemed very interested at the invitation. "Actually, that sounds—"
"No," Julian interrupted, and he gave his brother a look of warning. "He's got some place to be."
"Do I?" Damien challenged in a lower voice.
"Yeah," said Julian, as serious as I'd ever seen him. "You do. Now, get out of here."
The younger DeMarco brother turned to exit the room, but he stopped and turned back around to face us as soon as he picked up his black gym bag from the ground. "Bring her to the club's opening next weekend," he said in a tone that suggested he had an agenda, staring straight at me.
Julian had already planned on bringing me along with him to the opening of his brother's nightclub, which is why his next words surprised me. "She won't be able to make it. Some people actually have more important things to do, Damien."
Damien didn't like that response. "If things are serious between you two, I think it's only fair I get to know a little more about her, huh? After all, she may become part of the family some day."
"I think you're getting a little ahead of yourself, there," I said in a relaxed, non-offensive tone, confidently leaning back against the frame to the opened terrace door. Damien seemed both shocked and amused I'd even spoken up. "I mean, marriage has never even been put on the table with us," I added. "Your brother and I are just dating."
I think, in that moment, neither one of us believed that to be the truth. Damien's cold blue eyes narrowed and squinted just enough to let me know he didn't like me very much. "Yet you're still here, aren't you?"
I'd decided right then and there—the man was an asshole.
"Out," said Julian. He didn't give his brother the option to argue; he grasped the back of Damien's neck and gave him a push forward toward the elevator, blocking him from walking back into the living space.
"See you losers around," Damien called out before the elevator doors closed and separated us.
When we were alone again, Julian turned back around to face me and started walking back over where I was standing.
"Does your brother manage some new club or something?" I asked. "He said 'opening.'"
"He doesn't just manage it; he owns it," he replied as he closely approached me. "And we're not going."
I gave him a look, knowing otherwise. "You mean anymore? Julian, it's fine. I'm not intimidated by your brother, okay? I'm not that fragile of a woman."
"Trust me, the less you associate yourself with him, the better."
That was not an option for me. I hadn't invested almost six months of being undercover just for this man to try to keep me away from the other men I eventually needed to grow close to.
"Julian, it's just a club opening. Your brother isn't going to risk making any scenes in public, even if he doesn't like me. I'm sure he's a smarter man than that."
"Yeah, I occasionally think that, too, yet he continues to make us believe otherwise."
I wasn't winning this battle round. He wasn't going to let me get anywhere near his brother with all these personal concerns he had. I had to call him out on it. So, I stepped toward him until we were standing toe-to-toe, and I placed my hands gently against his chest. "What are you afraid of?" I asked softly, barely above a whisper.
In my heart, I knew exactly what this man was afraid of. Underboss to a powerful and notorious criminal organization or not, underneath it all, he was still a man. A man who'd now brought a woman into this crazy, dangerous life of his. And this woman—me—now needed some form of protection.
"I'm not afraid of anything," he replied.
"No," I said. "I don't think that's the truth."
He looked at me as if he undoubtedly believed otherwise.
"You're right. Usually, you are a man who isn't afraid of anything," I said. "But this is different. You and me—this is something new for you... and you're afraid your family is going to scare me off. You're afraid I'm going to wake up one day and realize that this isn't the right fit for me, that your family is bat-shit crazy and not what I signed up for, and you're afraid of the possibility of me walking away because of them. But that's not going to happen. Because I'm not here for your family, Julian. I'm here for you. And as long as you want me here, I am not going anywhere."
I had him hanging onto my every soft spoken word. However, telling him that I wasn't there for his family was complete bullshit. Did I feel guilty that I was lying to him right to his face? No, I didn't. Because there was one thing I said that still was true.
I was there for him.
"Why?" he asked, the slightest bit confused. "Why would you stay, even knowing that they might try to put you through hell? Any other woman would be running for the damn hills."
He was so right. Any other woman outside of the Outfit had no business in this life of theirs. It was so dark and dangerous. By staying, you were only begging for a life full of problems, a life full of uncertain happiness. But I wasn't just any other woman. I was chosen for this job—specifically. I was chosen for this because the Bureau knew I'd be the one best capable of deceiving this man. And they were right about me.
"Because I know you're worth it," I replied softly, staring deep into his vulnerable eyes while holding into his shirt. "Just like I am."
He touched my cheek with his thumb, cupping the side of my face with his large hand, then drew me closer so our lips would meet. I closed my eyes as I fell so deeply into the kiss, wrapping my arms loosely around his neck while falling under another one of his unintentional spells.
That was one thing about Julian DeMarco—he knew exactly how to make a woman fall for him, without even being aware of it, without even trying to. Had I been any other woman, I probably would have fallen for him in that moment. But again, I wasn't just any other woman.
When I finally did pull away, I stared up into his steel-blue eyes, happy. And I was so close to saying it—so close to saying those three little words that a person can never take back after saying them. And somehow, I think he knew I was on the cusp of saying those words. Even though, on my end, they would have been a complete lie.