I cringed at the horrific picture my mother painted. She had experienced an ordeal straight out of a horror movie, yet kept the awful details hidden all these years. “Go on,” I urged.
A long pause almost made me shout into the phone.
“He sent me a goodbye letter, explaining there was no point in living a life without me in it, and a few days later, he committed suicide. Afterward, I met your father, and we settled in Australia. One day I received a package… a box containing a dead snake inside, and a note warning me to stay out of Sicily if I valued my life. I disposed of the box without telling your father. Soon after, you were born, and we were happy living in Sydney, but thenyour grandparents’ health declined, and your father pleaded with me to return to Sicily.”
This whole ordeal led to my parents’ divorce. Papa spent years insisting he needed to care for his parents, and in the end, he presented my mother with an ultimatum. A lump formed in my throat as the vivid images rushed back: standing in Sydney airport at age ten, crying in my father’s arms as we bid each other farewell. Papa kissed my head and promised he would visit. Sobs shook his shoulders as he sauntered away, carrying his luggage. Even now, the memory stung my eyes and robbed me of breath.
My mother sighed. “I learned of Carina’s ties to the mafia after Lorenzo’s death. She’s a Calafiore, the daughter of a dangerous mob boss, a name I’d seen circulating on news outlets for as long as I can remember. They’re dangerous, extremely dangerous. I feared returning to Sicily, but since your father’s sister suffered her own health problems, your Papa grew determined to care for his parents.”
So, all thanks to this mobster woman, my parents divorced. “Did you ever tell Papa she threatened you?”
“Not until years later, once he left Australia.”
I bit my lip, ashamed I’d called her selfish a few weeks ago for refusing to join us in Italy. “Why hide this from me?”
“How could I confess such shameful behavior? I carry such guilt, Gemma. I’ve already disappointed myself. I couldn’t bear to see the same shame in your eyes.”
“No wonder you refused to join Matthew and me for our wedding.” My mother preferred to throw us a party in Australia than gamble coming here.
“Now Carina’s dragged you into this mess. Your father and I talked about going to the police, but we’re afraid that Enzo fellow might retaliate and hurt you.”
Psycho’s gun pressed to Papa’s temple flashed in my mind. “Don’t.”
Enzo scrutinized my sudden alarm, digging his fists into his pockets.
I hoped he paid no heed to my mother. “I’m fine, Mum. Please don’t do anything to jeopardize you and Papa.”
“We’re more worried about you.”
“Don’t be.” The last thing I wanted was my parents stressing over my hopeless situation, especially Papa. “Tell Papa to remember his heart medicine. I don’t want him forgetting to take care of his health.”
“How do I reach you? The number you’ve called from is private.”
What a surprise! He had set the call to private. “I’ll find a way. In the meantime, I’m fine. No one’s torturing me here.” Not in a physical manner, anyhow. “Send my love to Papa. I love you, Mum.”
“Gemma, wait—”
Enzo seized the phone and ended the call, cutting off my mother’s sentence. So, the entire family hated me, the daughter of their greatest enemy. “What do you intend to do with me?”
He shrugged, tucked his phone into his pocket, and unbuttoned his top collar, each movement unhurried. “We keep you here for however long it takes. In the meantime…” His gaze flickered over me, assessing. “Why don’t we get better acquainted? After all, we are now husband and wife.” His fingers manipulated the remaining buttons with practiced ease, the movements almost ritualistic.
An unfamiliar heat pricked my skin, not from attraction, but perverse fascination. How on earth could he undress without an ounce of self-consciousness, or a hint of scarlet to his angular cheeks? My heart fluttered in my chest, a caged bird desperate for escape. The flex of muscles beneath his shirt revealedchiseled pecs and a hard torso. I swallowed. Panic warred with racing thoughts. Was this a show of dominance, or was there something else in the way he watched me, an almost… expectant quality? As though he waited for my reaction, seeking my eyes.
Ignoring his bareness, I steeled my voice to remain steady. “However long it takes for what?”
He spread out his arms, his shirt now open and his magnificent body on full display. His gaze beheld a different gravity now, still intense, but less threatening and more… desperate? Ridiculous. Enzo Cammarata, desperate? Stripping himself bare mirrored the vulnerability he sensed in me, a twisted attempt at connection, even one born from darkness.
“For you to understand your place.” The words carried a weight of confession, as if he were exposing his own internal fracturing. Then his gaze narrowed, the green hardening to jade. “For you to accept it,” he said, the words clipped and final.
I’d been wrong in my judgement. He wasn’t exposing himself. Instead, he exposed my vulnerability, stripping away any pretense of control I held on to.
“And for you to break.”
Chapter 8
Enzo
Her glare struck me deep. Before I could process the sharp pang, she pounced. Gemma snatched the gun from my pocket and pointed it at my head. A distant memory flashed of another gun barrel trained between my eyes.
