Chapter 17

17

Creed

I hate having to leave Zara alone at the penthouse, but this meeting is important. And I need to discuss part of my plan with my cousins, even if I can’t tell them the entire truth.

“What’s this shit at Rovinas even about?” Dre asks.

“Izaiah Rovina is missing,” I explain from the front passenger seat of my Maserati SUV as Aldo drives us over to the Rovina estate in Brooklyn.

“And? Why should we give a damn about his nasty ass son going MIA?” Tristan asks.

“It could be connected to Carmine,” I tell them, which is partially true. “And I want to look every family in the eye to see who might be responsible for setting us up.”

“Wait,” Dre replies. “ Every family is coming to this dinner tonight?”

“Yes.”

“Did you sign off on that?” Tristan asks.

“No. I didn’t. But I’m going to let it slide this time, since Emilio is a distraught father. We’ll hear him out, see if anyone acts shady, have a nice meal, and then leave. Calm and cool, understood?”

“Yeah, boss. We’ll be cool,” Tristan agrees. “So, about that girl. Zara was it?”

Here we go. “What the fuck about her?”

“Well? Is it serious? Where did you even find her?” Dre asks in a huff.

“Carmine introduced us. And as for whether or not it’s serious.” I glance over my shoulder at their faces in the back seat. “Can I trust you to keep your mouths shut?”

They look at each other, then both give me a nod of assurance.

Slipping my hand into my pants pocket, I pull out my wedding band and hold it up. “Zara and I got married yesterday.”

“You did what?!” Dre exclaims.

“Are you high?” Tristan asks. “Trippin’ on pussy, boss?”

“I have my reasons, more so than being pussy-whipped. It’s nothing you two need to worry about right now. But I do need one of you to help me out with something tonight.”

“I can’t believe you got married without telling us!” Dre grumbles. “Who else knows?”

“Only Lorenzo. He was our witness. The clerk’s holding the license, so it’s not even on the public record yet.”

“Damn. You picked Lor over us?” Tristan mutters. “That’s fucked up, Creed.”

“We were in a hurry and wanted to keep it under wraps for the time being,” I explain to them. “So, can you two keep your mouths shut? Aldo?”

“I won’t say a peep, boss,” Aldo replies, his hands firmly gripping the steering wheel. It’s not news to him, since he drove us to the clerk’s office and back yesterday .

“Tristan? Dre? I need you two to accept this, accept Zara. Don’t give me or her any shit. I didn’t have a choice but to marry her.”

“What the hell does that mean? You’re Creed fucking Ferraro. Nobody makes you do anything,” Dre remarks.

“It was solely my decision, but…necessary.”

“Is she knocked up?” Tristan asks.

“No, she’s not knocked up,” I reply, then decide to quickly change the subject, since I like the idea of putting my baby in her way too much, and we haven’t even had sex yet. “The reason I’m telling you this now is so you’ll understand why I can’t marry Stella Rovina, but I don’t want Emilio to know about Zara yet. Which means I need one of you to agree to marry Stella instead.”

“Whoa, buddy! Didn’t see that one coming,” Tristan chuckles. “Hell yeah, I’ll let the viper bitch sink her fangs in me any day of the week.”

“Don’t even fucking think about it,” Dre grumbles. “Her fangs aren’t going anywhere near you.”

“So does that mean you’re in, Dre?” I ask.

“Yeah, I’ll do it,” Dre says with a heavy sigh.

“I’m sure Stella will love your enthusiasm.”

“Could you at least tell me why I have to marry her?”

“We need to distract Emilio, and the best way to do that is by promising his family an alliance with ours. There may or may never be a wedding.”

“So, I’m just supposed to pretend that I’m going to marry Stella?”

“For now,” I reply.

“Fine.”

“Try to find her tonight and see how she’s doing,” I order him. “I’m sure she’s also worried about her brother.”

“That viper bitch probably hopes Izaiah is dead so she can move up a notch in the family succession line,” Tristan remarks .

“How far do you think we’ll have to take this distraction?” Dre asks.

“I don’t know yet,” I admit. “But set a date. Pick out a cake, start planning that shit anyway.”

Focusing on the wedding will give Emilio something to think about other than his missing son. And keep the heat off our family.

If Zara were here, she’d probably laugh and say something like, “That’s a great idea. He’ll never suspect that you suspect him and killed Izaiah if you’re busy rushing your cousin down the aisle toward his sister. Only a psychopath would do something so messed up.”

“Did you just call yourself a psychopath?” Tristan asks since I must have said that last part out loud.

“Why not? That’s what we all are,” Dre murmurs as he stares out the window, watching the busy New York streets scrawl by at a snail’s pace thanks to traffic. “And just in case you forgot, Stella hates me. She’s never going to agree to actually marry me.”

“Yeah, well, I doubt Emilio will give her a choice. Since I refused to marry her and Carmine is dead, you’re the next best option.”

It should’ve occurred to me sooner that the setup at the club happened hours after I rejected Emilio’s offer. So much happened that night with Carmine dying, going to jail, planning his funeral, and then dealing with Zara that I haven’t had a chance to think about the meeting earlier that day.

“And why was Stella not good enough for you? Her hair not curly enough? You didn’t think she would look as cute as Shirley Temple, sitting nearly naked in your penthouse and waiting for you to return?”

“Watch it, Dre,” I warn him. “In fact, don’t mention Zara again. She’s my wife now, and you will respect her. And trust me, she’s more dangerous than she looks.”

“Seriously? I bet she couldn’t smush a spider.” Tristan remarks .

“You’d be surprised by what she’s capable of,” I tell them. “I know I have been.”

“Did she sign a prenup?” Dre asks.

“Of course she did,” I confirm.

“Just making sure. It would be a shame if she took everything from you while we’re all in prison.”

“That reminds me, try not to start shit tonight, since we’ve already got charges hanging over our heads. Don’t be surprised if Emilio calls out Aiden.”

“What’s his problem with the Sannas now?” Tristan asks.

“I heard from one of our NYPD contacts that Izaiah’s car was found in Queens.”

Tristan whistles. “Damn. So, we might get to witness the beginning of a war tonight?”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to war. And we’re going to try not to choose sides.”

“But if we had to choose, it would be the Rovinas, right?” Dre asks.

Fuck.

I wish I could tell them it was Izaiah who set up the raid and that Emilio might be behind it as well. But I can’t, or they’ll figure out I had something to do with Izaiah going missing and that Zara is involved.

“Of course we would side with the Rovinas,” I tell him. “Emilio and Aiden have never gotten along because they share a border. They went off on each other at the meeting last week because one of Emilio’s dealers ended up with product in Queens and Aiden snatched him up.”

“Jesus. So, tonight is not going to go well,” Dre remarks.

We finally pull up to the Rovina residence. Cars line the curb up and down the lot. It looks like everyone came rolling deep with multiple cars, most likely a few capos and bodies for security. Hell, it might be time for us to increase our numbers when we’re out in public. After what happened to Carmine, nobody would bat an eye if I increased protection. But I just don’t want anyone else getting in the line of fire if Emilio or someone else tries to take me out.

I can handle myself, but Zara? Sure, she’s tough, but she’s also weaponless. I can’t even give her a phone. Pulling out my device, I text Lorenzo to have him bring in two men to help him keep an eye on the penthouse.

“What are we waiting for, boss?” Tristan asks.

Lorenzo texts back with a thumbs up. “All right. Let’s go in. Keep your mouths shut. Dre, do some sucking up to Stella. And Tristan, you haven’t been here as often as Dre and I have, so I need you to do me a favor.”

“What’s that, boss?”

“Get lost.”

“Huh?”

“Wander around aimlessly like you’re looking for the bathroom or kitchen or whatever lie you need to come up with. And while you’re wandering, I want you to look for a little girl.”

“A little girl?” he repeats, glancing from me to Dre in confusion.

“Don’t fucking ask me. I have no clue what he’s talking about,” my cousin mutters.

Even though I’ve known Dre and Tristan my entire life, my first inclination is to not trust anyone with Zara’s secret. Not yet. It’s too…precious.

“Don’t worry about it. Just let me know if you see any little kids, about three years old. And if you do, don’t mention it to anyone. Snap a photo, send it to me, then delete it from your phone.”

“You want me to take a picture of a random kid like some pedo?”

“Yes.” I don’t tell them that once I find her, we’re going to plot to kidnap her. I haven’t even mentioned my plan to Zara yet. I don’t want to get her hopes up in case it fails .

How the hell did I become such a fool for this woman in less than two damn days?

“Jesus Christ,” Dre grumbles as he slips out of the car. “He’s lost his fucking mind.”

“I haven’t lost my mind,” I say to him when I get out. “Now shut up and go find your new fiancée.”

“This is going to end badly. I can already feel it going to hell,” Dre remarks before he walks away.

“He’s not wrong, boss. You know we wouldn’t be busting your balls if we weren’t concerned about what’s going on with you. It’s just, after Carmine was killed, we all got hit with the fucked up gun charges, and then you married this random chick. Even you have to admit that you haven’t been acting like yourself.”

“Because everything is fucked up!” I yell at him. “My brother is dead! Someone wants me dead or at worst, spending years in prison. And it’s got to be one of the fucking families coming for me.”

Or someone in my own family.

I keep that thought to myself, because they’ll think I really have lost my mind.

I trust my men with my life. I’ve taken every precaution to make sure we induct only the most loyal bastards around. Every member of our family must be an associate with close ties to an actual member for at least eight years with provable Italian heritage before they take the oath.

These rules have kept my men out of prison and on the streets earning for our family for over ten years now.

And it may all be crumbling around me.

If Emilio gave Izaiah the orders for the raid that killed my brother, he’s going to pay for it. I just need to find proof so that the other families won’t bat an eye when we retaliate.

If I can’t resolve this soon and it’s found out I killed Izaiah, the five families could decide to take me out, hell, or my entire family, to replace me as head of the Council.

Since my father set up the Council, a Ferraro has led it. The boss of bosses, capo dei capi, the deciding vote and voice of reason. It’s how we’ve managed to keep the peace in New York City.

And if that peace is shattered, a lot of people are going to die a bloody death, including my family.

Dre beats us to the front door, where four of Rovinas guards are waiting. He appears to be arguing with them, arms flailing around.

While he’s preoccupied, I quietly say to Tristan, “If anything happens to me, get Zara out of the country with a new identity and make sure she gets access to my money.”

My cousin stares at me slack jawed. “What the hell are you talking about? You think we would let someone take you out during dinner?”

“Just tell me I can count on you to keep her safe and you won’t let anyone hurt her, no matter what you might hear.”

“I mean — ah… yeah, boss,” Tristan finally stammers just before Dre comes stomping back.

“They say we either hand over our phones and guns at the door or leave them in the car.”

“Are you fucking kidding?” Tristan asks.

“It’s nothing we don’t ask of the Five Families when we have a Council meeting at Omerta.”

I can’t say I’m all that surprised that Emilio is being cautious after his son suddenly went missing.

The three of us head back to the car to drop off our weapons and devices with Aldo, who will stay with the vehicle.

“If they lay a hand on me, I’m going to break it,” Dre warns .

“They won’t lay a hand on you. They’ll probably just wave a security wand over us and let us through.”

Sure enough, once we step inside the foyer, a guard does just that. Since all three of us emptied our pockets and holsters, they immediately clear us to go inside.

Gideon Marino and his brother, Zaven, are chatting up Aiden Sanna and his two sons in the front receiving room, which is…odd. Emilio is huddled up with Bowen Bertelli while his father, Weston, and adopted sister, Serafina, talk a few feet away.

All conversations stop, though, when we enter the room.

Ignoring the eyes on us, I head straight for Emilio to get this over with. Either he suspects I had something to do with Izaiah’s disappearance, or he doesn’t have a clue. Time to find out.

Bowen nods at me and then goes over to join his father and sister.

“Creed. Glad you could make it on short notice. I apologize if I stepped on your toes, but time is of the essence.” Emilio offers me his hand.

“I was sorry to hear Izaiah’s gone missing. If there’s anything I can do...”

“You can press your men at the NYPD to get off their assess and find my son!”

“Done,” I agree. “I’ve instructed my inside guy to let me know if he hears anything.” I don’t mention that I’m in the Commissioner’s pocket since he probably assumes as much. “Do the detectives have any leads yet?”

“No. I don’t know what the hell Izaiah was thinking. He never should’ve gone to Queens so late.”

“What was he doing there?”

“Between you and me, I know exactly what he was doing in that part of town.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“Visiting a puttana who lives there,” Emilio explains. “Now she’s gone, probably skipped town with whatever piece of shit helped her grab Izaiah. I think the Sannas put her up to it…” He glares over at the family. “When I find her, I’ll get the truth out of her. I need you to press Aiden. They’re probably holding Izaiah where they had Marco.”

Great, he doesn’t suspect me. But, Jesus, I think the “ puttana ” or “whore” he’s talking about is Zara.

“Is that what this meeting is about? Seeing if the Sannas offer up any information?”

“They want something for him. I just don’t know what yet. I had hoped to find the troia before they got here tonight.”

“You got people still searching for her?” I mutter, having to grind my teeth to keep from jumping to Zara’s defense. I hate that he already suspects her and that he’s put together that she had help making Izaiah disappear.

Clearly, there’s no love lost between him and Zara. I bet Emilio is the reason that she rarely gets to see her daughter.

“Regardless of how our meeting goes, I won’t stop until I find her,” he grumbles. Then, he nods his head at someone, calling them over to us. I’m not surprised to see Saint Rovina, the second oldest son, appearing at his side. Unlike Izaiah, the thirty-something kid looks sober and carries himself well. His pinstripe suit is an odd choice, though. All he needs is a matching hat to fulfill the mobster stereotype.

“If you need to reach me, do so through Saint. He’ll be learning the ropes, but I’m sure he’ll be able to handle himself soon enough,” Emilio says.

“Sorry about your brother.” I offer Saint a handshake. He looks at my palm with disgust, but after a glare from his father, he reluctantly shakes it.

It’s clear that Saint isn’t going to have any love for my family, but I don’t really give a shit. His father is still running things for now. Until I decide if I need to take him out .

To lighten the mood, I tell them, “Dre was hoping to talk to Stella. Is she around tonight? He’s agreed to that alliance you said you wanted.”

“Really? Well, I’m glad to hear our families will finally be united,” Emilio remarks. “Stella’s around here somewhere.”

“We can postpone the wedding for however long Stella needs while we look for Izaiah.”

“No, no,” Emilio replies. “I think they should go ahead and make it official, decide on a date. It’ll be a nice distraction for my Martha. We could all use something nice to look forward to.” Which is exactly what I thought as well. Martha Rovina has non-Hodgkin lymphoma. The last I heard, her prognosis isn’t great, since this is the second time it’s returned in five years. Curing cancer is, apparently, still one of the things money and power can’t buy.

If I feel a tiny shred of guilt, it’s because the woman is dying and I killed her son, making her last days on this Earth even more miserable.

“By all means. Dre is ready whenever Stella wants to move forward,” I assure him, pushing aside the hint of remorse. At least Martha will be able to see one of her kids get married before she passes.

“Stella’s not going to go down the aisle willingly, but I guess that won’t be a problem for the Ferraros,” Saint grits out.

I’m not sure what he’s implying. “Dre won’t rush Stella into anything. We’re well aware this wasn’t her idea, and it may take time for her to…come around.”

“Stella will marry Andre before the end of this year, and that’s final,” Emilio informs me and his son, leaving no room for argument. “We don’t know how much longer your mother has, since she decided to stop the chemo and radiation.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I tell him honestly. His wife isn’t my enemy. She probably never wanted to marry his sorry ass in the first place.

Rushing the wedding means we’ll have an opportunity to spend more time together and convince them we’re not responsible for Izaiah going missing while keeping an eye on what news the Rovinas receive about him from their sources.

Not to mention, it’ll give us more time to flame the fire, urging them to look in the direction of the Sannas.

“Help yourself to some appetizers. Dinner should be ready soon,” Emilio says. “If you’ll excuse me, though, I should try to speak to everyone and thank them for coming on short notice.”

“Of course,” I agree.

“You can drop the act now,” Saint says as soon as his father walks away.

“What act?”

“The one where you pretend to give a shit that my brother is missing.”

“I do care. I care more than your father knows.”

“Bullshit.”

“I think whatever happened to Izaiah could be connected to whoever hired those cops to kill my brother and try to take me out.”

Saint blinks at me in what I think is surprise. And judging by his face, I don’t see any sort of hint that he was involved in the raid. “You think that was a hit? At the nightclub?”

“I know it was,” I assure him. “The cops came in firing at Carmine before they even saw that he had a gun. It wasn’t a drug bust or whatever bullshit the press release said. It was a takedown. And when they failed to kill me in the chaos, the one in charge had to settle for arresting me and my guys after another cop talked him down. That cop and the one who killed Carmine either committed suicide before we posted bail, or someone made it look like they blew their own brains out. ”

“No shit?” Saint mutters as if he’s now considering a connection too. “I didn’t know all that.”

“We haven’t been broadcasting the details while we’re conducting our own investigations. I won’t point any fingers until I have evidence. So far, everyone we’ve looked into is clean.”

“It wasn’t us,” Saint says, his words crisp with confidence.

“I didn’t say it was, did I?”

“Well, I’m just telling you that if some shit like that were going down, I would’ve heard about it.”

Fuck. I actually believe him.

“I crossed your family off my list after I heard Izaiah went missing,” I lie.

Either Saint had nothing to do with the setup, or Emilio and Izaiah kept the younger brother in the dark.

Could Izaiah have pulled it off on his own without his father’s connection? Probably not. Emilio didn’t act suspicious at Carmine’s funeral or tonight, though, so who knows?

Maybe Izaiah was trying to prove something to his father, who I heard was reconsidering him as his heir.

As soon as Saint wanders off, I go find Tristan to see if he’s seen Zara’s daughter. I hate that he won’t have his phone to snap a picture of her if he does, but at least we can begin the search.

“Anything?” I whisper when I spot Tristan coming from a room down the long hallway that leads to the kitchen.

“No. Not on this floor. Too risky to go up right now.” He glances toward the receiving rooms at the front of the house, all the people coming and going.

“Another time,” I agree with a nod. “Let’s find Dre. We’re getting out of here as soon as we finish dinner.”

We find Dre in another sitting room, talking to Stella. We’re just in time to watch the show. She starts to walk away from him. Dre says something too soft to hear in the same moment he grabs her wrists. “Don’t fucking touch me!” she yells as she lifts her other hand holding a full glass of red wine and throws it right in his face.

There are several hushed gasps from the other guests while I try to hold in my laugh. Tristan turns his back to the room as he chuckles quietly into his fist.

A moment later, Emilio storms into the room, grabs Stella by her arm, and drags her away while apologizing to Dre.

My cousin’s face is so red underneath the wine that he looks like he might explode. A passing waiter carrying a tray of appetizers offers him a cloth napkin. Dre mops off his face, muttering what I have no doubt is a slew of swears. When he sees me and Tristan in the crowd, I tip my chin toward the hallway.

Once the three of us are alone, Dre continues swearing under his breath while wiping his neck where the crimson liquid drips onto his white shirt collar.

“What the fuck did you say to her?” I ask him.

“Nothing! I told her I was sorry her brother was missing and wanted to know if she was okay.”

“Wow,” Tristan remarks. “She really does hate you.”

“No shit,” Dre mutters while glaring at me.

“Too fucking bad. I told Emilio you agreed to the wedding, and he wants it to happen before the end of the year.”

“Before the...that’s only five months away!”

“Best get your bachelorhood shit out of your system fast because you’re about to be a married man,” I warn him. “And I get the feeling that Stella wouldn’t put up with a wandering eye.”

“You are so fucked,” Tristan tells him with a bark of laughter.