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By the time I pulled the gun at my ankle and ran to the edge of the alley, the car was halfway down the street.
“Fuck,” I yelled, blowing out a puff of air.
“Was he saying what I think he was trying to say?” Sonny was at my side with his gun in hand.
“I have no idea.” I leaned my shoulder against the wall and scanned the dark street. “All I know is we need to find out.”
Sonny ran a hand through his thick, dark hair. “You know what else is weird about all this? Dom is nowhere in sight.”
I ground my teeth together, my jaw about ready to pop. “Fucking traitor.”
“I think we should keep this to ourselves for now, don’t you?”
I contemplated his question, a brief pause passing between us. Could I trust the word of a man who held a gun to my head a few minutes before? I didn’t trust anyone but Gia, Ma, and Sonny. But I wondered if the men I’d never seen before were on to something. My stomach turned at the thought of being on the wrong side of this war.
Was my father the real enemy?
Chapter Twenty-Three
Gia
Crossing over the Benjamin Franklin Bridge, I held the wheel, my fingers wrapping around the leather like a vise. The latest beef with Enzo had me unraveled. I feared for Angelo’s life. I didn’t know enough about his business to understand the full extent of the damage. All he’d told me was that it was bad, the fallout devastating, and placed me under twenty-four seven surveillance. He said not to trust anyone. I never did so that was easy. The only people I trusted were my father, Angelo, and Sonny.
In the midst of the drama, Angelo Sr. had summoned my father and me to the Morelli house in South New Jersey for dinner to celebrate our upcoming nuptials. With a few hours’ notice, he’d called on a Sunday, of all days, to schedule a time and place to speak about the wedding. I was afraid if I took too long to pick a date that Angelo would be six feet under. Our future was uncertain. Nothing about our lifestyle was safe.
“Are you okay with all of this?” I asked my dad, who was staring out of the window deep in thought.
He turned to look at me, scratching the dark stubble on his chin. “I knew this day was coming since you were a kid.”
“You didn’t answer my question, Daddy. Are you okay with me marrying Angelo?”
“I gave you my blessing.”
“But you would rather we pulled away from the Morellis, and I married someone else. Right?”
“I won’t lie to you, sweetie. I would have chosen someone other than Angelo for you to marry. At one time, I honestly believed his father would let him go to college and stay out of the family business.”
“So did I,” I confessed. “I was so sure Angelo Sr. would change his mind.”
“I should have known better.” My dad’s face scrunched in anger. “In all our years of friendship, he never went back on his word. He gave Angelo a way to be with you and still be part of the family business. I guess you should be lucky you had Angelo with you at school for the past seven years. If Angelo Sr. had it his way, he would’ve pulled Angelo from high school and had him doing his bidding long before now.”
“Angelo started working for his dad in high school. They were small jobs, but still, he was always in some way invested in their business.”
“Be smart,” he said. “Be careful. I already lost your mother over this turf war. I will not lose you, too.”
“You won’t. Angelo will take care of me.”
We still had no clue who had set the car bomb that killed my mom. Angelo tried to find the person responsible. Every trail led him right back to Enzo, who they still couldn’t find. He’d gone into hiding along with what was left of his crew. When some of them were dumb enough to resurface, Angelo or one of his family members killed them and made a spectacle of their deaths.
Following the directions from the GPS, I drove for a while until I pulled up to a tall wrought iron gate concealing a massive Italian villa-style mansion. A large M swooped through the middle of the fence. The high shrubbery surrounding the perimeter made it difficult to see up the long driveway. Angelo’s father bought the estate when we were mid-way through college and moved the entire family. It was for their safety. The Morelli compound was one of the safest places in the country.
I leaned out the window and pushed the button on the intercom. “Lorenzo and Gianna Carlini. We’re here for dinner.”
With my hand out the window, I waited until I heard a buzz, and the gate slowly moved inward. We drove onto the property lined with red chestnut trees, and a Tuscan-style house spanned the massive lot. A four-car garage was to my left, private verandas were on the upper floors, and the grand entrance was on my right. Several expensive cars were spaced along the multicolored pavers.
I parked at the front door, and two men come up to each side to help us out of the car. Two more men in dark suits were waiting at the main door, one of them holding it open for us as we walked into the house. The interior of the home was incredible. Words couldn’t begin to describe its beauty. Various shades of yellow, brown, and white, combined with rounded archways, high ceilings, and terra-cotta tiles, gave the house the feel of Italy. The attention to detail showed in the artwork and the careful placement of each piece.
Another man led us down the long hallway and into a room that boasted a large dining table. At least thirty people could sit comfortably, and by the looks of it, close to that were there waiting for our arrival.
