2. Gia - Eleven Months Later

2

GIA - ELEVEN MONTHS LATER

T he crisp November wind whips around me as I navigate the busy Manhattan streets. Between the twins' school schedules and my own responsibilities, these rare moments alone are highly valued, even if my forays through the city are errands, not a day of fun. I love my kids more than anything, but I have to admit, since they started kindergarten in September, I’ve enjoyed having more time to myself.

I duck into a small café I frequent now on my outings to order a cappuccino and a croissant.

“Good morning, Mrs. Cantore,” the barista greets me. I've kept my husband Aldo's name for the twins' sake, even though I hate the name nearly as much as I hated Aldo. Worse, it bothers me that my children are forced to carry the Cantore name to protect them from the stigma of illegitimacy and my disgrace of having cheated on my fiancé. There was a time I was willing to risk it. If Max wanted to stand for us, I’d have taken the chance to admit my indiscretion to give my children the Giraldi name. But for reasons I don’t understand, Max wants nothing to do with me. Perhaps it’s because I’d thrown myself at him all those years ago and he’s worried I’ll do it again. Whatever the reason, the decisions have been made. The kids will remain Cantores and will never know their real father.

"Your usual?" the barista asks.

"Please."

A few moments later, I’m at a table near the window, cradling the warm cup of coffee in my hands as the world passes by. I’m quite content. Maybe not blissfully happy, as Nic is. I’m not sure anyone is as happy as Nic, except maybe Bella. My lips twitch upward as I think about the two of them. I’ll be honest, I never pegged my older brother as the settling down type. At forty, his life was all about the business and protecting me and the kids.

Now, he’s got a lovely wife and three kids. THREE! I guess having multiples runs in the family. They have little Brandon, and then Marianne and Eleanor, whom they call Ellie. To be honest, I thought the girls' names were a little old-fashioned, but Bella said the names paid tribute to when they were snowed in on the run and she read Sense and Sensibility to Nic while he recovered from a gunshot wound. That’s when I knew for sure Nic was in a forever relationship. My badass brother sat and listened to a Jane Austen book? Only love would have him doing that.

But even with his new wife and six-month-old triplets, Nic has never abandoned his sense of duty to me. He made a promise to my mother before she vanished, and he’s never gone back on it. Max made the same promise, going so far as to become my godfather, but his commitment isn’t the same. I don’t blame him. I’m a grown woman now, and I guess I made him uncomfortable when I’d so blatantly asked him to have sex with me all those years ago.

Thinking of Nic brings warm feelings. Whereas we’d never been a close family when my father was alive, today, Nic insists on weekly family meals, no matter how chaotic his schedule gets. Last week, he sat on the floor with Daniella and Dario, helping them build a fortress of blocks while sending his men out to “take care” of an associate discovered skimming from the business. The image of New York's most powerful Don wearing a paper crown my daughter made still makes me smile.

A text buzzes my phone. Speak of the devil.

Poppers? Do you know anything about that? Nic’s message reads.

I laugh.

I assume you mean for Thanksgiving and not in the line of your work. They’re tubes with a prize in them. When you pull the ends, they pop.

Bella says we need them for Thanksgiving.

I smile. When I first met Bella, I immediately liked her. She was young, yes, but she wasn’t afraid to put my brother in his place when necessary. I suppose what I love most about her is how happy she’s made my brother. And I find it amusing how much he indulges her, including learning about poppers. I text back.

Bella is right .

I’m pretty certain he’s not really asking me about poppers and instead is checking up on me as part of that oath to my mother. Sometimes, I feel he’s overprotective, but it’s not like he’s never had cause to worry. Not long after Aldo died, Benny Cantore, his grown son from his first marriage, tried to contest the twins’ inheritance. I was ready to give him the money because the truth is that the twins aren’t Aldo’s kids. But no one but me knows that, so it was difficult for me to simply hand over the money.

Nic argued that Benny was just going to snort it or gamble it away. The money was better off invested for the twins. I’m sure he threatened Benny, who backed off and left town.

The kids are making place cards . Dario insists on drawing pirates on all of them.

That kid is a future Don.

I’m not sure how I feel about that. I want my kids to become whatever they want to be, even if it’s outside the Mafia life. Even Nic, as powerful as he is, is forced to live with constraints on his behavior, concerns about his and his family’s safety, and the possibility of prison.

"More coffee, Mrs. Cantore?"

"Yes, please." Because I can. Because for these few hours between school drop-off and pickup, I'm not just Daniella and Dario's mother. I'm Gia. Just Gia.

I settle back to savor my second cappuccino when my phone beeps again. I wonder what Nic needs now.

Green looks good on you, Gia.

My insides go cold. I gaze down at my emerald sweater and around the café. The morning crowd has thinned. There’s the barista, a college-aged woman hunched over a laptop, and an elderly man with a newspaper.

Another buzz.

Have you read my letters? You shouldn’t ignore me.

The coffee turns bitter in my mouth. Three weeks ago, I found the first letter in my mailbox, no stamp, no return address. I'd dismissed it as a prank, tore it up without reading past the first line. Then came another. And another. All followed by texts, like the one this morning.

My hands shake as I scroll through my phone, pulling up the photos I'd taken of the last two letters before destroying them. The words blur together. Your father kept secrets. So do you.

I'd told myself they were empty threats, probably someone trying to shake down the new Don's sister for money. But this is different. This person is here, watching.

Soon, you’ll pay.

The phone slips from my fingers, clattering against the table. The barista glances over. I force a smile, pretending to wipe up spilled coffee that isn't there.

Another message appears.

Look outside.

I don't want to, but my eyes drag themselves to the window. A black SUV idles across the street, its windows tinted too dark to see inside. Even so, it’s brazen. Threatening.

My chest constricts. The safe bubble I've built around my children is threatening to shatter.

My hands won't stop shaking as I gather my things. The SUV across the street hasn't moved.

I leave cash on the table and hurry out the back entrance, taking a circuitous route through the alley. As I rush, I order a car. As I arrive at the corner, it’s waiting.

“Mrs. Cantore, good morning,” the driver who works for Nic says.

“Good morning, Theo.” I try to keep my voice light.

“It’s been awhile.”

“It has.” I don’t normally use the family’s services, but right now, I don’t need just a driver. I also need someone who’s skilled with a gun who can protect me. “Can you take me to Nic’s?”

“Sure thing.”

Theo deposits me at Nic's office building twenty minutes later. The security guard waves me through. The elevator ride to the top floor gives me time to compose myself. I can’t go running into Nic’s office in hysterics. He needs to know what’s happening, but I don’t want him sending me off to Timbuktu, which is something he’d consider doing to keep me safe.

Nic's secretary rises when I enter. "Mrs. Cantore?—”

"Is he free?"

"He's on a call, but?—”

I walk past her and through the double doors to Nic's office. My brother looks up from his desk as I burst in.

"Gia?" Nic's expression shifts from annoyance to concern. "What's wrong?"

"I need to talk to you." My voice cracks. "Now."

He studies my face for a moment, then speaks into the phone. "We'll continue this later." He hangs up and rises, rounding his desk, reaching for my trembling hands. “What’s going on? Are the kids?—”

“They’re fine.” But are they?

The words tumble out before I can stop them. The texts, the letters, the SUV. I watch my brother's face darken with every detail.

“For how long?” he asks.

“Three weeks. A month…”

“Fucking hell, Gia, and you’re only now telling me? Show me.”

I hand over my phone with shaking fingers. Nic scrolls through the messages, his jaw tightening with each swipe.

"I thought I could handle it."

"Handle it?" He looks at me like I’m an idiot. "Someone's threatening you, watching you, and you think you can handle it alone?"

The tears I've been holding back spill over. Nic's expression softens, and suddenly, I'm a little girl again, running to my big brother after a nightmare.

He pulls me into a fierce hug. "No one threatens my family. No one."

"I'm sorry. I just… I thought it was a prank or some jerk. You have so much going on dealing with the fallout after Dad’s death and Bella and the kids?—"

He pulls back, gripping my shoulders. "I never have so much going on that I can’t protect my family." He guides me to a chair. “Want some water or something?”

I don’t, but I feel like I need the distraction or something to do with my hands. “Yeah, sure.”

He grabs a bottle of water from a mini-fridge he keeps in his office. “Do you have any idea who it might be?”

I shake my head as I take the water and open it, but don’t sip. “No.”

“What secrets is he talking about?” The question sounds rhetorical, like he’s trying to determine my father’s secrets. But the note said I keep secrets as well. The only one I have is about the kids.

“I don’t know.” I hate lying to Nic. I question whether I should. But I can’t see how anyone would know about the twin’s true parentage. I’ve never told anyone. “Could it be someone loyal to Dad?”

Nic sucks in a breath. “Maybe. Most are dead.”

“Some work for you. Could they be pretending to be loyal to you?”

He nods. “It’s possible. I have a pretty good sense of everyone, but someone playing a long game of revenge could be involved. Loyalty bought with fear isn’t easy to maintain.”

“What about Benny?”

He arches a brow. “What secret would Benny know of Dad’s? Or yours?”

I swallow down my guilt. “I don’t know. But what would any of Dad’s men know of my secrets?”

“What secrets do you have?”

My brain stutters for a moment. “None that anyone would care about enough to harass me over.”

He studies me, and I worry he’s going to push me. "First thing, I'm putting security on you and the kids. Round the clock."

My first instinct is to balk at this. I don’t like always having people watching me. But if the kids and I are in danger, I suppose having security isn’t a bad thing.

"I'll have Marco trace these messages." Nic picks up my phone again. "And I'm calling in some favors. Traffic cameras, surveillance footage from that café. If someone's been following you, we'll find them."

"And when you do?"

His smile doesn't reach his eyes. "Then they learn why crossing the new Don is worse than crossing the old one."

I grew up with this sort of mentality, but I’ve been in the real world enough to know that’s not how things normally work. Normally, there would be police and prosecution. In my brother’s world, he’s the law, judge, jury, and executioner.

"No one threatens my family, Gia. No one touches those kids." He sets my phone down and picks up his, poking the buttons. "Get me Marco. Now." He hangs up and blows out a breath. "Stay with us tonight. You and the kids will be safe there. We'll figure out next steps once we know what we're dealing with."

“I don’t want to bring this to Bella and the kids?—”

“No one can get access to my family in my house.”

I start to nod when my phone rings. Automatically, I pick up the phone and glance at the caller ID.

“Who is it?” Nic asks.

I shake my head. “I don’t know. The number is blocked.”

“Speaker,” Nic commands.

I poke the speaker button. "Hello?"

"Those twins of yours sure look sweet in their matching school uniforms." A digitally altered voice sends chills through me.

"Who are you?"

"Someone who knows the truth.” They pause. "The school's letting out soon. Maybe I'll introduce myself to Daniella and Dario."

"Stay away from my children." The words rip from my throat.

He laughs, and the line goes dead.

I look up into Nic’s eyes and I see murder in them. I’m glad to see it because this person needs to die for threatening my children.

Nic picks up his phone and starts barking orders to get some of his men to the school. “I need eyes on the school now. No one touches those kids."

When he hangs up, his jaw tightens as it does when he’s thinking, planning. Finally, he looks up at me. “You and the kids need to lay low. Leave town?—”

“We can’t. The kids are in school. They love it. I don’t want to upset their?—”

“It will be worse if you’re dead. Or them.”

His words reverberate through me. They feel cruel even if he’s right.

Nic's eyes narrow as if he knows I’m going to argue. "This isn't up for discussion."

“Dario has a soccer game this weekend and Daniella has a sleepover." I really don’t want to upend their lives.

"None of that matters if they're not safe."

“There’s nowhere more safe than with you. You said so yourself. No one can get access to your family in your house.”

“Things have changed, Gia. If this guy is following you, he knows you’re here with me and?—”

“He said he’s at the school.”

Nic steps to me. Gripping my shoulders, he gives me a shake as if he thinks I’m being dense. “Do you really think he doesn’t know you’re here? And knowing that, he called you. In front of me. This guy is either really stupid or he has balls the size of Everest. I’m going with the latter. He’s taunting me as well as stalking you.”

Fear nearly paralyzes me. If this man is willing to taunt Nic, he really is dangerous. Nic has spent the last year instilling fear in or causing death to the men who dare to defy him.

“So you and the kids are going somewhere safe, and I’m going to hunt this mother fucker down and kill him.”

I try to take a calming breath so I can think. “Where would we go?”

He picks up his phone again. “You’re going to Vegas. You’ll live with Max.”