Eternal Temptations (The Tempted Series Book 6) (2 page)

Things started to look up for our family; Victor was around more, spending quality time with the girls and Luca. He was still on the rise, his empire grew both financially and in power making him the ultimate mob boss and his organization trumped all others.

I foolishly believed he put his quest for revenge behind him.

Like everyone else I believed he was invincible, his empire indestructible. Victor Pastore would reign over the streets he loved forever and I’d be the woman standing in his shadow, perfectly content with him having his glory, knowing he wasn’t the type of man you held back. I watched Victor soar to the top and knew my place was to be the one who grounded him when he needed the reminder that beneath the Teflon he was a husband, a father and now a grandfather.

Then the call came that Val’s wife had tragically died in a car accident, leaving their son, Michael, the sole survivor of their family. Vic harbored guilt that he didn’t step up and take care of Mike and Maryann after Val died and so he thought he could make up for that by bringing Val’s son into the fold.

Victor was opening a new night club called Temptations and his plan was to give Mike a legit opportunity to make something of himself. He wanted to bring him back home, have Michael manage Temptations and hoped to fix another broken relationship. I commended him for trying to do the right thing, even if it took him a while to figure out what that was.

My husband was repairing the relationships he severed bringing hope back to our family.

Life was good.

But it usually is before it turns bad.

The night Temptations opened began the descent of a mob boss. We learned the hard way that even the most powerful men sometimes get knocked off their throne.

I don’t know if I was too naïve or simply immune to the life we dangerously lived but I never saw the disaster that was heading straight for us—the end of Victor Pastore.

The destruction of an empire.

The death of a man.

The ruination of a family.

The end of Victor and Grace.

The buzzer rang, dragging me away from my thoughts and forcing me back to the reality of what we had become. I spot him immediately, sitting in the far left corner of the packed visitor’s room in the federal penitentiary.

This is our life now.

We’re doing a life sentence.

He’s paying for his crimes behind bars and I’m paying for them in an empty bed.

His head is bowed as he stares down at his hands that are neatly folded on the table. I freeze in my tracks, taking a moment to stare at the man I so deeply love despite his flaws. A sad smile spreads across my lips as I take in his appearance, noticing his hair has grayed even more so than the last time I saw him. He aged well, his features the same as they were when we first met, only now there are faint lines on his face that tell his life story. He’s still the most handsome man I ever laid eyes on.

I was transfixed back to that night when our world crumbled, staring adoringly at my husband, unbeknownst to him, I studied him through the eyes of the rest of the world.

It was opening night and Temptations’ capacity seemed to be at its limit. Everywhere you turned people were smiling, laughing or dancing.

The music blaring from the impressive sound system faded away and was replaced by Vic’s laughter. It was easy to see why people were drawn toward his larger-than-life personality. He owned the room. The people surrounding us hung onto his every word but when he turned around and stared into my eyes as he wrapped his arm around me, he was just Vic, the man beneath the designer suit.

Success.

It was the number one word in Victor’s vocabulary. He did nothing half-assed, always gave one hundred percent, and this club was no exception. From the marble floors to the over-the-top sound system, my husband didn’t skimp on one tiny detail. The extreme flashiness was what people had come to expect from Victor.

He boisterously laughed at a joke Jimmy was telling, turned to me and the laughter died in his eyes, replaced with something foreign yet familiar…love and affection. He bent his head, pressing his lips to mine; I closed my eyes feeling nostalgic as one kiss reminded me of the thirty-five years of kisses we shared.

“I love you, Gracie,” he murmured, pulling back from my lips staring into my eyes as the back of his hand caressed my cheek.

I wish I had of taken a photograph of him, of us, and the last time we were together when everything was just as it was when we were young.

Before the mob.

Before the suit.

Before I lost Victor to a life full of crime.

He lifts his head, turning it slightly and our eyes lock.

Nostalgic.

“Behind every great man is an even greater woman who made him this way. You’re my greatness, Grace, and I want you by my side forever…say you’ll marry me.”

Tragic.

“It’s time, Gracie. I’m turning myself in.”

Bittersweet.

“It doesn’t matter that I’m here and you’re there…you’ll always be my love, Gracie.”

I walk toward him watching as he rises to greet me, stepping around the table to pull my chair out. While most inmates aren’t allowed to touch their visitors, Victor seems to be the exception to the rule. Openly wrapping his arms around me he squeezes me tight like I’m his salvation. I relish in his touch.

Several moments pass before he breaks our embrace and motions for me to take a seat, pushing my chair under the table once I do.

Always a gentleman.

His fingertips graze my shoulder before he walks back to his seat and stares back at me.

“My Gracie,” he whispers, smiling faintly as he reaches for my hand.

It doesn’t get easier.

Every visit is another knife to my heart.

And when I leave here I know I’ll feel empty inside and wish I never came because seeing him like this, knowing all we have is an hour surrounded by strangers and a few stolen touches, is my damnation.

But then I tell myself if I don’t have these moments, I have none, and I need to cherish them just as I cherished every moment we shared in our life together.

“How are you?” He rasps. “How are my girls?”

I reach into my pocket and pull out the few photos I was allowed to bring him and place them on the table between us. Releasing my hand, he lifts the photos, handling them with such care, like they are a fine piece of china.

“Oh God,” he breathes. “Is this…” His voice trails off as he turns the photo around to face me.

I smile warmly, knowing very well how much he needs my smile at this moment.

“That’s your granddaughter, Victoria Grace,” I reveal, introducing him to Adrianna and Anthony’s daughter. The little girl I held in my arms minutes after she was born. The same girl Vic will never come face to face with.

“She’s beautiful,” he says, turning the picture back and staring at it in awe.

“She is,” I agree. “She weighed seven pounds, three ounces, just like Adrianna did when she was born,” I continue. “Both Anthony and I were in the room when she gave birth. I swear, Victor, I have never seen anything more beautiful, and I don’t mean the birth but all the love surrounding it. It happened so quickly, well not really, she was in labor for nearly twenty hours, but when that little girl was ready to make her grand entrance it was beautiful chaos. Adrianna was crying, the poor thing was exhausted, but Anthony grabbed her hands, held them tight and forced her to look at him…” I pause, taking a minute to recall the moment myself before lifting my eyes back to Vic’s and noting that he is hanging on my every word.

These were the moments we should have been sharing together. Instead, I have to create them with words and Vic has to experience the birth of our granddaughter through my eyes.

“Adrianna focused on Anthony, kept her eyes locked with his as she pushed and not a minute later their baby girl’s cries filled the room,” I whisper. “It was precious.”

“I bet it was,” he breathes, placing the photo of Victoria on the table before lifting the next one. “Luca is getting so big,” he marvels, laughing at the photo of our grandson with a backward Yankee cap, pointing to his shirt that read
‘Don’t even think about dating my sister’
. “Anthony’s training him young,” he jokes, showing me the photograph.

“You’re not kidding,” I confirm.

“He’s a good father,” he says huskily, taking a deep breath. “A real good father.”

He placed Luca’s photo next to his sister’s and lifted the next.

“Look at her smile,” he whispers as he studied our daughter, Nikki’s, picture. I had taken it right after Michael proposed to her. I’m not sure she had even said yes before the flash went off.

Victor lifted his gaze to mine.

“Was she surprised?”

“She was shocked. I believe her first words were ‘get the fuck out of here’ and then she said yes,” I wink at him, sharing a knowing look that our daughter was a spitfire. “And then she cried.”

“Why?”

“Because Michael told…” I pause, blinking away the tears that suddenly fill my eyes as I recall my daughter breaking down after Michael revealed he had visited with Victor. “…he told her they had your blessing and he had asked you for her hand in marriage.”

He smiled widely as he wiped at his own eyes.

“You’ll walk her down the aisle won’t you?”

“Yes,” I promise.

He nodded.

“Get her whatever dress she wants. I don’t care what it costs, you make sure she has everything she wants. If you need extra money you go to Jack Parrish, he’ll give you whatever you need.”

“Okay, Vic,” I reply softly, watching as he looks away for a minute.

“You know I’m happy,” he whispers. “I am,” he assures me, turning around so I can look him in the eye. “I’m happy because I know that my two daughters will be taken care of, that they have men in their lives that will truly do anything to keep them happy and will love them like they deserve to be loved.”

“Yes, we’re very fortunate that our daughters have found happiness.”

“There is one girl I’m worried about though,” he confesses. “You.”

“I’m fine, Victor,” I admonish.

“No you’re not and it’s my fault. I promised to take care of you and love you all the days of my life. I vowed to share a life with you and left you to live it alone. I love you, Gracie, and I’ll never go back on that promise I made when I said I’d love you until death do us part.”

“I love you too, Victor,” I say quietly, reaching across the table to take hold of both his hands. “And our life may not have gone as we planned but I don’t regret a single thing.”

“I regret not being home as much as I should have been. I regret not enjoying the little things I took for granted, like tripping over your slippers on the way out the door or when I’d walk in and find you sleeping on the couch with a book tucked under your nose. I miss the little things, Gracie. I miss watching you sing on Sunday mornings while you made me meatballs. I really miss your meatballs,” he quips, winking at me before reaching across the table to wipe away my tears with his fingers.

“Life is too short for regrets, Vic, and while we may only have these visits now, we’ll have eternity together,” I vow.

“Grace,” he starts, dropping his hand from my face as he draws in a harsh breath.

“I mean it, Victor, I believe that with my whole heart. You have to believe it too because these visits aren’t the last of us,” I exaggerate.

“Gracie, they’re moving me again,” he says regretfully.

“What?” I swallow. “Where?”

“Down south,” he answers. “The lawyer will fill you in on all the details,” he adds as his eyes do a quick sweep of the room. “It’s the last leg of the plan.”

“Oh for heaven’s sake,” I hiss. “To hell with the plan!”

“Lower your voice,” he pleads.

“No, Victor, I will not. Look at you, this is it, do you realize that? You keep digging your hole and for what? Some sick vendetta?”

“I gave my word.”

“You gave your word to me thirty years ago.”

“Gracie, you’re right this
is
it…look at me. You see where I am? There is nothing left. I love you, as God as my witness I love you with my whole heart but I’m being transferred, and it’s for the best.”

“How can you say that? How can you tell me you love me and choose this life over that love time and time again?”

“It’s not like that.”

“Sure it is,” I hiss.

“Gracie…I’m dying.”

Have you ever heard someone speak but felt like you were dreaming and the words were a nightmare? You wish to wake up, you beg for it, but it doesn’t happen. You think it’s your subconscious forcing you to live through the pain and anguish of the words but it’s not and then you realize you’re living not dreaming.

The knife twists.

The hope diminishes.

And the life sentence becomes shorter.

I left New York after the murder of my father, never believing I’d drag my ass back to the concrete jungle—I never wanted to. Then my mother was in a bad car accident and Victor Pastore showed up just in time to hold my hand as I pulled the plug on the life support. At the time I detested the man, blamed him for my father’s death and even my mother’s. If my old man didn’t die protecting Victor, we never would’ve moved away and she wouldn’t have been on that highway when a truck crashed into her car.