Chapter 38

38

Zara

C reed is such a piece of shit.

I can’t believe that after everything we’ve been through, he didn’t even say goodbye to me.

Not a word, a kiss, or a hug.

The first contact I had from him after three long weeks was the damn divorce papers I received by courier this morning. Oh, and how could I forget the box that came with it that had a professional digital camera inside, like it was supposed to be some sort of parting gift.

I guess Creed was just glad to finally be rid of me and all my baggage. Ever since I came into his life that night at the club, things have been fucked up.

But I wasn’t the one who pulled the trigger when he killed Izaiah.

I didn’t ask him to orchestrate Emilio’s death either, even if I’m relieved that him and his son are dead and can’t touch me or Oriana ever again.

Emilio was never a good father to her, but he did make sure she had everything she needed, along with protection. I doubt the man loved her, but he considered her his property, so he did what he could to keep her safe.

I should be happy that I get to raise Oriana outside of the busy city. But the estate Creed set up for us is ridiculous. I knew it would take weeks, maybe even months, for us to secure employment and find a place of our own, possibly a three-bedroom home with two bathrooms. That would have been a dream come true while living in Italy, since we missed the boat to Portugal, and starting over.

But where did Creed’s instructions left with Marino’s men lead us? To the Umbrian countryside that includes two houses, eight bedrooms, eleven bathrooms, a badminton court, and not one but two freaking swimming pools.

Every morning I wake, it’s like we’re living on a movie set too perfect to be real.

The main villa was an 18th-century farmhouse that was restored several years ago. But that’s not where we stay. The four of us have been just fine, living together in what was formerly the stables with three bedrooms and five bathrooms, which is more than enough.

“How are you doing?” Paige asks when she sits on the pool steps next to me.

“I’m great. She loves to swim.” I smile, nodding to my adorable girl, splashing with her pink arm floats in the shallow end. I’ve spent the past three hours swimming with her and am beat. I don’t know how the little princess has any energy left.

“Are you really great?”

“Yes. Mostly. Honestly, I’ve never been anywhere except New York City, so it’s nice to get to live someplace new, to see more of the world, free to come and go as I please.”

“But?”

“But what?” I glance over to ask Paige.

She shrugs and scoops up a mosquito from the water to toss out of the pool. “It just sounded like there was a ‘but’ at the end of your remark.”

“I love getting to spend all this time with Oriana, finally having a chance to really get to know her…”

“But?”

I groan. “But I guess I’m still angry at Creed.”

“You’re still angry, or you still miss him?”

“Both. It’s for the best how things worked out. I mean, I spent seven years of my life being tied to a mobster.”

“But Creed is different from Emilio, right?”

“He’s still a mob boss. Boss of bosses, actually. You were angry at him for what he did to Emilio’s guards, remember?”

“Yes, he’s a lethal mob boss, but he risked his life to save your daughter when he barely knew you. A lethal mob boss who risked his men to not only save Oriana a second time, but me and Bethany, too, when he could’ve told his men to leave us behind.”

“He’s a good man who does bad things sometimes, like kill people. And that’s why I shouldn’t want to be with him. His lifestyle constantly revolves around violence. I don’t want Oriana to grow up with all the bloodshed and rivalries.”

“If Emilio could protect her from his enemies, then I’m sure Creed Ferraro can too. Oriana could use a decent male role model in her life.”

“And you think Creed Ferraro would be a decent role model for her? After everything that has happened?”

“Ori was born a mafia princess, and she already bosses everyone around like they live to serve her royal majesty.”

Laughing, I admit, “She does do that. I had no idea how much you and the Rovinas had spoiled her. She deserves to be loved, not given whatever money can buy to appease her at the moment.”

“Ori is young enough that she probably won’t miss Izaiah and Emilio as much if she had another father figure to help you raise her. Hopefully she won’t remember them in a few years. She needs a male role model to help love her and show her what a healthy relationship looks like. I doubt there are many men who could handle such a firecracker without dousing her flames completely.”

“Well, you’ve certainly thought a lot about something that’s never going to happen,” I point out to her, wishing she hadn’t painted such a sweet picture in my head of the three of us as a happy family. Swiping the tear drop from underneath my eye, or maybe it’s just a drop of rain, I remind her, “Creed didn’t even come to tell me goodbye before we left. He’s done. That ship that I was literally on sailed away from him at his direction.”

“You don’t think it’s possible that he didn’t come say goodbye to you because it would’ve been too hard to let you go? I doubt a man like Creed Ferraro has much experience being vulnerable around another human being. I doubt his parents gave him many hugs when he was growing up or told him that they loved him. He’s probably emotionally stunted because he was raised to be the meanest motherf’er in New York City, to always show his strength and power, not openly share his feelings.”

“I’m sure he wasn’t raised in a very loving home. His mother tried to take him and leave when he and his brother were kids because his father was too angry and violent. She gave up his father to the feds. Eventually, though, the charges were dropped, and his father found and killed his mother in front of them.”

“That’s awful. Other than his mom and brother, you’re probably the first person who has ever loved him, the man, not just his money or the power. He’ll need some time to wrap his head around all that. To allow himself to trust that you won’t leave him or hurt him like they did, even though it wasn’t their choice. ”

“Again, this is all a moot point. I can’t even call him, since he never gave me his phone number. Not that I would call him if I had it.”

“God, you’re so damn stubborn. That’s where Ori gets it from, not just on the Rovina side.”

“I’m not stubborn. I’m only being realistic,” I tell her. “It’s time for me to move on and forget Creed Ferraro. I’m sure he’s already forgotten all about me.”

Creed

It’s only been three weeks since Zara left, which is about half as long as I knew her, and I’m still constantly thinking about her adorable freckles and long curls that bounce right back up when I tug on them.

I already struggle to remember the details in her face, where exactly those freckles were on her nose and her cheeks, the curve of her lips, the steel in her green eyes when she was pissed at me…

I should’ve taken more photos of Zara when I had the chance. Why the fuck didn’t I? All I have are a few images on my phone of her and Oriana my guys sent and a photo taken right after our marriage ceremony. In it, I look annoyed, and she looks nervous.

I was an idiot who was too busy worrying about not being able to trust her that I pushed her away rather than pulling her closer.

“What are you going to do about Zara, you sad sack of shit?” Dre asks when him, Tristan, and Lorenzo barge into my office.

I rotate my chair from the sun setting on the city to frown at them. Standing before my desk, Dre’s arms cross over the chest of his three-piece suit as if I’m inconveniencing him with my misery. “ What the fuck do you mean, ‘what am I going to do about Zara?’ She’s off in Italy, living her life. You should be worrying about your wedding plans, not me.”

“We know where Zara is, but you’ve been a miserable figlio di puttana since she left, and I doubt that’s going to change anytime soon. So, what are you going to do to fix it?” Tristan asks.

“Fix what, exactly? What am I supposed to do? Walk away from all my responsibilities here in New York for a woman I barely know? It’s not like she can come back when Saint is about to start a war with the Sannas, and we’ll be forced to choose sides,” I remind him. “Oh, not to mention, we’re going to take out Bowen Bertelli. And if we live through all that, it’s only a matter of time before we’re convicted of gun possession and sent off to prison for three-and-a-half years!”

“You don’t think Zara would wait three years for you, or come see you during visitation days?” Lorenzo sounds skeptical, as if he’s so certain that Zara would be up for that shit.

“No. I don’t fucking know.”

“You still don’t trust her,” he says.

“It’s not about trust. Zara will always choose her daughter over me and the mafia lifestyle, and I can’t blame her.”

“Did you send her divorce papers?” Dre asks.

“Yes.” Signing those papers was one of the hardest things I had to do. Killing people is a hell of a lot easier than signing away the marriage to the woman I love.

“Has she returned them yet?” Tristan questions.

“Not yet. It takes a while, though, for shit to come back from Italy.”

“Really? You think that’s why she hasn’t returned them yet?” Lorenzo comments, his brow furrowed with skepticism. “It’s okay to be happy, to live your life even if Carmine can’t live his.”

“Look,” Dre starts. “I know Carmine wasn’t just your brother, but he was your best friend, one of the few people who could give you hell without you blowing a hole through his head. I was jealous of how close you two were. And I know that if Carmine were here, he would tell you to suck up your pride and do whatever you need to do to be happy.”

“That’s basically what he said the night of the raid when Zara called me over to warn me, and I was being stubborn,” I admit.

“You said Carmine told you to thank him in your wedding toast for not stealing her, right?” Dre says.

“Yeah, he did.”

Lorenzo grins. “I’m not surprised he knew you would end up with her. And you did marry her. Then you shipped her off.”

“The farther away from me Zara can get, the safer her and Oriana will be,” I remind them. “This world of ours is too unforgiving for their innocent souls.”

“I thought you said Zara was tougher than she looked,” Dre remarks. “Did you ever ask her what she wanted? If she thought your world is too cruel? Did she tell you she didn’t want any part of the mafia lifestyle?”

“No, but —”

“Then fuck off,” he interrupts me. “Zara seemed smart and tough enough to make her own damn decisions, and you know it.”

“She’d have to be both to endure seven years of abuse by the Rovinas. I don’t want to cause her any more pain.”

“Well tough shit!”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re never going to stop worrying about Zara whether or not she’s in your life, right? She could be in pain right now over in Italy, and you wouldn’t know it nor could you do anything about it, which is what’s going to drive you fucking insane. So why not just figure out a way to get her back, and not let a hypothetical war keep you from being happy for the first time in your life?”

Dre’s not wrong.

I have been going crazy with worry. Not just about physical harm, but how Zara is doing as she becomes a full-time mother to Oriana and how much she’s probably doubting herself in the role. I wish I was there to see her and her daughter together, to reassure her she’s an amazing mother. To confess, I’m so certain of that fact that I wanted her to be the mother of my children someday.

“So, you three think I should go to Italy and ask Zara what she wants?”

“Yes,” they answer simultaneously.

I stare out at the city, thinking the idea over for several long, silent moments.

Finally, I turn back to Dre, Tristan, and Lorenzo. “Say I show up and ask Zara and her daughter to come back with me. Then what do I do when shit goes down with the families? Send them away every single time there’s a problem?”

“You kept the peace in the city for ten years. Carmine’s death was horrible, but it was the first in what, a decade or more?” Dre asks.

“Yes.”

“You can keep the families from fighting, just like you have before. Lay down the law, no bloodshed, or they’ll regret it,” Lorenzo suggests while slapping a rolled-up magazine into his palm.

“Yes, I’m sure a threat from me will stop Saint from going after whoever he thinks killed his father and brother.”

“Sure, there’s a chance you fail,” Dre replies. “But if you moved some of the guys to provide security and watch over Zara and her kid, they would probably agree. Besides, a woman and kid probably wouldn’t get dragged into anyone’s shit. Most families have lines they won’t cross.”

“That’s a whole lot of probablies that could fall apart.” I shake my head. “If anything happened to Zara or Oriana…”

“You won’t let anything happen to them,” Tristan declares .

“I couldn’t protect her before,” I remind him. “The damage Emilio did to her…”

“Will heal! Hell, it’s probably healed up by now. She’s been seeing docs, right?”

“Another probably from you too, really, Tristan?”

“Her injuries were bad, but she survived Emilio,” Dre remarks. “And he only went after her because of their history. It didn’t have anything to do with you.”

“He tortured her to get her to confess that I killed Izaiah!”

“And she never ratted you out, did she? That is hardcore loyalty right there. I respect her for being so strong,” Dre says.

Tristan chimes in, “Some men I know wouldn’t be able to endure all that without breaking.”

“None of the shit you just said makes me feel better for being responsible for her bleeding and scarring.”

“Emilio hurt her before you came along, Creed. You saved her from him and Izaiah. They were her only enemies,” Dre reminds me. “Now, they’re gone. Zara and her daughter are finally safe.”

“They’ll never be safe with me.”

“I’m going to book a flight to Italy,” Dre huffs. “Either you can go, or I’ll go my damned self to pick up those signed divorce papers from Zara.”

I grind my molars. I don’t want to see those papers ever again. “You sound just like Carmine, trying to light a fire under my ass.”

Tristan flashes me a shit-eating grin. “So, our little pep talk actually worked?”

“Yes. I’ll go see Zara and ask her what she wants.”

“Finally,” Dre mutters with a smirk.

“Why would she want to be my mafia queen when I can only offer her a future with infrequent conjugal visits? I doubt she want Oriana anywhere near me. We all know I would be a shitty father.” It’s one of my silent worries that’s been on my mind since I was searching for the girl, that Zara wouldn’t want me to be a part of her daughter’s life.

“You won’t be a shitty father, Creed. And if Zara loves you, then you two can get through anything,” Lorenzo replies. “Any-fucking-thing, right?”

“I guess…I guess we’ll find out.”

“Good to hear. I brought you something to provide a little…comfort until you get her back.” Lorenzo tosses the rolled-up magazine onto my desk.

I stare down at the title and image on the front. “A porno mag? Seriously? They still put out this shit and charge for it, even though the internet is free?”

“Turn to page thirty-four.”

“Why?”

“Just do it!” Lorenzo huffs.

Picking up the filthy magazine, I turn the pages until I get to thirty-four. My jaw drops at the sight of the gorgeous woman dressed as a sexy Lady Liberty. Raising a torch in the air with one hand, her mint green robe is wide open, and she’s completely naked underneath.

“Very patriotic, right?” Lorenzo asks. “It was a Fourth of July issue.”

Slamming the pages shut, I glare at him. “Where the fuck did you find this?”

“I did a little digging into Zara’s background after you married her,” he replies while shoving his hands into his pants pockets, looking awfully smug for a man about to bleed out. “Emilio had some modeling contacts. He convinced her to do three issues just like that.”

“I wish I could kill him again, this time with my bare fucking hands,” I growl as I get to my feet. “While I’m gone, I want you to find every issue she’s in, anywhere in the world, and buy it, no matter the cost. I’m going home to pack. ”

I take about two steps toward the door before I return to my desk and scoop up the magazine. There’s one other urgent thing I need to do before I pack, thanks to that sexy ass photo. Holding the rolled-up magazine in the air, I ask Dre and Tristan, “Did either of you see my wife naked?”

“No, sir,” Tristan answers. “We wouldn’t dare disrespect you in such a way.”

Dre punches his brother in the chest, hard enough to make him double over. “Lorenzo wouldn’t let us. Not that I wanted a peek.”

Shaking my head as I walk out the office door, I call back, “I want every single copy ever published before I get back, Lorenzo!”