Chapter Twenty

Delany

I said nothing as the man from the diner closed the door and hopped into the passenger seat. Turning to the man beside me, I whispered, "Mr. Valentinetti."

The handsome Italian smiled. "Please don't be afraid, Mrs. Calloway. I am a friend."

"Can you help me get my daughter back?"

"I can and will. But first, I would like you to meet my wife."

"Why?"

"Because she's been in your position before and can help you."

"I don't understand."

"I know you don't; that's why I am here," Giovanni said before adding, "Guiseppe. Please drive."

The drive from the city to upstate New York was quiet as the man next to me remained silent while he typed into his phone. Not that I expected him to say anything to me.

I was a nobody.

I had no ties to the Mafia. I still couldn't wrap my head around the fact that one of my best friends knew Giovanni Valentinetti. I would have had to live under a rock to not know who the man was. Or what business he was in.

The Italian Mafia.

Mafia.

What the hell did Finley get me involved in? It was bad enough I had to deal with the Soulless Sinners, but the fucking Italian Mafia. All I wanted was my daughter back. I didn't know how Mr. Valentinetti would accomplish that. From my understanding, Mafia and biker clubs didn't mix.

Weren't they always at war with each other?

God, this was all so confusing.

"Thank you, Sypher," I heard Mr. Valentinetti say as he turned to me. "Mrs. Calloway, you will be happy to know that your daughter is doing well."

"How do you know?"

Mr. Valentinetti turned his phone, allowing me to see a live feed of my daughter playing with a little boy no older than her, as Malice watched in the corner of a room, eating an apple.

Tears formed, rolling down my face as I stared at the phone.

"Don't worry, Mrs. Calloway. Sypher has assured me that Malice has not left your daughter's side. It seems the man is smitten with her, and I can see why. She is beautiful."

"Thank you," I whispered as the SUV slowed before turning into a private drive. Seeing the large mansion up ahead, I took a deep breath, not knowing what was about to happen. However, when the vehicle came to a stop, the front door of the large house opened and out rushed Finley, running for the SUV.

Unbuckling my seat belt, I opened the door just as she reached me, hugging me tightly.

"Are you okay?"

Crying, I held my friend, shaking my head. "What's going on, Finley? I don't understand."

"Ladies let's move inside, where it is more comfortable," Mr. Valentinetti suggested, waving his hand to the door, where a beautiful blonde woman stood next to an opposing figure.

Taking my hand, Finley ushered me toward the entrance of the house.

"Mrs. Calloway," the blonde woman said, smiling. "My name is Layla Valentinetti, and this is—"

"Maxim Fedorov," I muttered as the ominous man frowned.

Italian Mafia, now Russian Bratva?

What the hell was I in the middle of?

"Mrs. Calloway," Mr. Fedorov greeted, stepping to the side. "Welcome to my home."

Finley didn't give me time to think as she dragged me inside where Illyria Valentinetti stood, holding a little boy in her arms. The woman was more beautiful in person. The papers really didn't do her justice.

Gulping, I looked at Finley, who wrapped her arm around me.

"Just breathe, Delany. I promise everything is okay."

"What's going on?" I whispered, unable to take my eyes away from the famous woman.

"Delany, I would like you to meet Illyria. One of my oldest friends."

"Hello," I muttered.

"Uncle Gio!" A small boy, no older than five, maybe six years old, ran past Illyria, straight into Giovanni's arms.

"Hello, Henry. Jesus, Maxim, what are you feeding my nephew?"

"Kid eats everything in sight," Maxim grumbled, walking toward the sitting room to the right, heading straight for the bar. "My food bill has doubled because of him."

Illyria chuckled as the woman named Layla rolled her eyes. "Delany, please come in and sit."

Tears rolled down my face as I listened to the most outrageous, heartbreaking, and malicious story I'd ever heard. And while I wouldn't admit it, I was scared because what Layla Valentinetti just told me wasn't a bedtime story, it was a freaking horror story.

There was no freaking way it was real.

Impossible.

"I don't understand. How am I to blame for something that happened over fifty years ago?"

"No one blames you, Delany. It's just how things are."

"No." I shook my head. "I'm sorry, but this has nothing to do with me. I didn't even know my dad had a brother until you told me. I don't care about some convoluted war that's been going on since before I was born. I just want my daughter back and to live my life in peace."

"We want the same, sweetie. But that's never going to happen until we remove every threat to us."

"But my father was nothing like that. He was loving and funny. He cared about me. Coached my middle school soccer team. He taught me to ride my bike and drive a car. He was the best dad a girl could ever ask for."

"Sweetie, I'm absolutely thrilled you had the best dad," Layla said, leaning forward and reaching for my hands. "But that doesn't change the fact that your grandfather was one of the Original Seven members of the Golden Skulls Motorcycle Club. In fact, it was your grandfather who came up with and founded the Golden Skulls."

"I thought my dad was an only child," I whispered, trying to absorb everything.

"Delany, I know this is a lot, but because of who you are, you and Harlow are going to be in danger until this war is over."

"I'm a nobody."

"Delany, look at me," Illyria Valentinetti said. Doing so, the beautiful woman added, "I know all of this is overwhelming, but I need you to listen to me. We will not let anything happen to you. You are family now, and we protect our own. Blood is just genetics, Delany. Family is what you make it."

Shaking my head, I muttered, "God, this is all so confusing. I still don't understand how my marriage to Jason has created so many problems. He's Harlow's father. He said he only wants to protect us."

"Jason married you without permission," Layla stated bluntly.

"See, that's what I don't understand. Why would he need permission to marry me?"

"Because you are Golden," a petite blonde woman said, walking out of the shadows with a man covered in tattoos.

Illyria and Layla gasped as Giovanni and Maxim slowly rose to their feet. I didn't know who this woman was, but from the way everyone was staring at her, I knew she had to be someone important.

"Remi?" Layla whispered before rushing over to the woman, hugging her tightly.

Sitting there, I watched while everyone took their time greeting the pretty woman and the man. Even Maxim Fedorov, who had sat showing no emotion since I arrived, looked lovingly at the woman, cupping her face, before placing a kiss on her forehead.

Turning to me, the woman smiled. "I wish we could have met under better circumstances, and I am so sorry you are being thrown into the deep end of this, but what you need to know is whatever you decide, I will support you. I know you didn't ask for any of this. Neither did I. Nor Layla. We are just trying to survive it, like you. All I can tell you is to trust your husband. From what I hear, he is smart and cunning. He won't let anything happen to you."

"Did he know who I was before he married me?"

The man, covered in tattoos, nodded. "Yes, he did. I warned him what would happen, and he still married you. Which is why his life is now in danger too."

"He promised to protect me."

"And he will," Maxim confirmed. "I've known Storm for many years. Giovanni can back me up on this. The man you married doesn't quit. He's single-minded when it comes to something he wants, and Delany, he wants you and Harlow."

"Then where is he? I've tried calling and texting him, but he doesn't answer."

"Delany," Remi said my name, getting my attention. "Storm can protect himself. You, however, can't. That's why I'm here. I need to make sure that you are protected, no matter what happens."

"And how do we do that, Remi?" Layla asked. "Because right now, she's got her foot in one club and the other knows nothing about her."

"That's why Sypher is here," Remi stated, looking at the man next to her, who smiled. "Sypher is a patched brother in the Golden Skulls and, last I knew, I am still the president's wife. Together, we can claim Delany."

"What does that mean?" I asked, looking around the room when Layla turned to face me and clearly said, "It means she is here to brand you."

Shaking my head, I got to my feet. "No one is branding me with a hot iron again. I refuse."

Remi and Layla smirked as Sypher grinned. "Yeah, we don't do that shit in our club. We prefer a more colorful way."

"What does that mean?"

Remi smiled. "Have you ever thought about getting a tattoo?"

I tried not to wince as Sypher glided the tattoo gun across my back. While I never thought about adorning my body with ink, I had to admit it was a lot better than the branding iron the Soulless Sinners used. That shit was barbaric, and painful.

Listening as Remi, Layla and Illyria all laughed and joked around while Sypher did his thing. I couldn't stop thinking how, because of a one-night stand, my life had taken such a drastic turn, when something kept bugging me.

"Remi? Layla said my grandfather started the Golden Skulls."

"That's right. Xavier Goldman."

"So, how does this work? Does this mean I get a say in what goes on?"

Layla busted out laughing as Remi chuckled, shaking her hand. "Oh, honey. You may be Golden, but it's still a men's club. Unless you have a fucking penis, you don't get a say. But because you are Golden, your voice will be heard and considered."

"How many of us are Golden?"

"Well." Remi sighed, leaning back in her seat, nursing a beer. "There is Solomon, your cousin. His father was Mirage. Your dad's older brother. Then there is Jessica Keller. She's married to Savage, a brother in the club, and is the half-sister of Reaper, the asshole I'm married to. Then there is Bullseye. He's the son of James Doherty."

"I'm Golden because of my father, Sabastian Capribella." Layla grimaced. "He is the bastard son of William Doherty, but we don't talk about those fucknuts."

"Don't forget there is Carly Mitchell, but after what her mother did, she's gone off the radar. Last I heard, she was living peacefully somewhere up north," Remi added.

"How many of us have ties to other clubs or organizations?"

"Layla is Golden and the heir of the Capribella Mafia Family. She is also the niece of Maxim, the head of the Russian Bratva. Jessica is Golden and she is the niece of King, the president of the Sons of Hell Motorcycle Club. She is biker royalty. While I'm not Golden, I am the daughter of Vladmir Ivenok, the second to Maxim, as well as being Maxim's goddaughter. Then there is your daughter, Harlow. She is Golden because of you, and as the daughter of Storm, she is also biker royalty."

"Layla, Remi, it's ready," Sypher announced, removing the tattooing gun from my back. Staying seated, I watched while Remi and Layla got to their feet and Giovanni handed Layla a knife before she carefully cut her thumb. Handing the knife to Remi, she did the same before both women placed their bleeding thumbs over my new tattoo, smearing their blood on my back. "You are of our blood. We are of your blood. We are Golden Skull. We are now your sisters—today, tomorrow, forever. Welcome home."

Getting to my feet, I walked over to the mirror and looked at the tattoo—a Golden Skull with blades running through the skull. Under it was the name Legacy. Turning to the women, I inquired, "Legacy?"

"Your club name." Remi smirked. "Thought it was fitting, considering that your grandfather created the club."

I looked back at the mirror and smiled.