Reign (The Syndicate: Crime and Passion Book 2) (12 page)

The question was, did my husband agree?

I looked up at him, and though the sun behind him somewhat obscured his face, I could see enough to see that it had very little expression. My heart lurched. He might be upset at what I’d done.

He continued to watch me, that unreadable expression on his face, and I thought I would break from the tension of the moment. Just when I would have spoken, he did.

“Daniela,” he said, his voice emotionless, “that is one of the kindest things I’ve ever heard.”

“I’m sorry! I just did what—What?” I said, frowning at him.

He smiled, and I thought my heart would soar when I saw that beautiful, beloved expression on his face. “I said, that is one of the kindest things I’ve ever heard.”

“You—Oh,” I replied, laughing at my overreaction and how wrong I’d been about his.

His expression soon darkened, and I knew this conversation was not fully closed.

“It’s over,” he said, voice again flat.

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you did what you thought was right, but that’s over. You can’t ever do that again, Daniela,” he said, expression hard, voice even harder.

“But I—”

His flashing eyes killed the words I would have spoken.

“Over,” he said.

I stared up at him, watched as he pressed his lips against mine, his kiss soft, yet firm, sending shivers all over me. He met my eyes. “Those who need to be taken care of will be, but not by you, Daniela. It’s over,” he said.

Then he kissed me again, a hard peck he used to punctate his words before he pulled back and stared into my eyes. I saw sternness in his, but even more I saw compassion. Knew that unlike almost anyone else that had ever been in my life, I could trust him.

“It’s over,” I whispered.

He nodded, exhaled hard, making me wonder if he’d thought my answer would be different. Which made me wonder how he would react if I disobeyed. I looked into his eyes again, and again felt that trust, felt secure in the knowledge he would never hurt me. I stretched up on tiptoe to kiss him, kneading his lips with mine.

Sergei kissed me back, his lips against mine, his strong hands on my skin only intensifying the safety, the trust I realized I only had for him. Then he suddenly broke the kiss and stared down at me, his eyes dark, unreadable, but soft, tender. That look in his eye, he led me to our room, didn’t break contact as he undressed quickly and then undressed me, pausing to kiss and touch each patch of skin he exposed, lingering over my nipples and kneading my breasts with his hands as he tugged them to hard points.

He again paused to stare at me, his body heaving from his deep breaths, his cock hard, ready, but Sergei was in seemingly no hurry to bring us together. I’d thought I’d get used to the way he looked at me, would become immune to the intensity of his stare, but I knew that was a lie now. Because even though he’d had me so many times, looked at me so many times, I still lit up with a single glance from him, a feeling that was only stronger now that I knew I trusted him.

When Sergei laid me on the bed, I reached out for him, thighs wide to accept him, and when he pushed inside me, brought our bodies together with one rough thrust that made me scream in pleasure, some part of me wondered if I might love him.

D
aniela

“
T
hank
you for letting me visit, Senna,” I said a few days later.

I had reached out to her through Sergei, and I’d been nervous, but she’d welcomed me with open arms.

“No. Thank you. It’s wonderful to have company,” she said.

She had just returned from laying Luka down for his afternoon nap, and then sat across from me at the kitchen table.

I’d spent a couple of hours here, just chatting, relaxing, something I hadn’t realized I hadn’t done for so long.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve done something like this,” I said, sharing my thought with Senna.

She gave me an understanding look and then said, “Me too. Why has it been so long for you?”

I shrugged. “It was always hard to make friends. I have a sister, but she’s gone now. Then my mother got sick,” I said.

She nodded understandingly. “Since then?”

“And since then, it’s just been…”

I trailed off, not sure how to phrase it.

It wasn’t that I’d been completely surrounded by men. Actually, there had always been a variety of people around, but all of them were looking for something, from me, either a way to channel my father’s wrath or looking for me to protect them from it.

Nothing like these few hours with Senna, or my time with Sergei for that matter. Time when I could just be Daniela. Not Santo’s daughter or representative of the Carmelli family. Just Daniela.

“I can imagine it’s difficult for you,” she said.

“What?” I asked, drifting back to the conversation when I’d been losing myself in thought.

“The expectation, obligation,” she said.

“It’s nothing. It’s not. I mean…”

I again trailed off when I realized that I was starting to fumble. I didn’t really have words to describe it, but she seemed to understand completely.

“Is it difficult for you?” I asked.

She shook her head.

I didn’t pursue the matter further, was surprised that we had even gone this far. But from what I had seen, her existence was quite different than my mother’s, or mine for that matter. I didn’t know if she and Maxim were married, didn’t really know anything about them. Well, except that they had the most beautiful baby I’d ever seen, and that he loved her fiercely and was fiercely protective.

“How did you come to be here, Senna?” I asked, curiosity overtaking me.

She looked at me, shrugged. “How do any of us?”

“It’s an excellent question, but definitely not an answer,” I said.

She didn’t respond, and I smiled and shrugged. “It’s fine. But I get the feeling you’re happy,” I said.

“That word doesn’t even begin to describe it,” she replied.

In that moment, I was envious of her. Maxim, for all of the things he had done to my father, the things I wouldn’t even begin to imagine he had done to other people, loved this woman. She wasn’t simply a utility, a tool for business purposes.

I couldn’t say the same.

There was a deepening connection between him and me, and at least on my part, feelings, but that didn’t change the circumstances of our marriage.

“Have you known Sergei long?” I asked, changing the subject.

“A long time. He was barely grown when I met him,” Senna said.

“Is he different now?” I asked, desperate for any insight into who my husband was, how he had come to be.

She looked reflective for a moment, considering. “Yes. He’s much more mature now. Even more so since he met you.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“He’s always been rather…” She trailed off, searching for the right word.

“Reckless, irresponsible?” I asked.

She shook her head. “No. Never that. He likes to give that impression, but he’s never been irresponsible.”

I agreed. I wasn’t yet sure what to call it, but I knew Sergei was as reliable as they came. “I guess a certain levelheadness is essential. Maxim didn’t seem like the type who would respond well to reckless associates.”

Senna said nothing, but that didn’t surprise me.

“So how is he different?” I asked, prying for more information.

“He’s always been cavalier. That’s the word I was looking for. He has never really had purpose, focus, and you’ve given him that,” she said.

It was my turn to blink. “I don’t think so,” I said.

“Why?” she asked, looking genuinely curious.

I sighed. “Senna, do you…?” I trailed off, considering my question, but then continued on. “Do you know the circumstances of our marriage?” I asked.

“Are the circumstances important for this conversation?”

Another nonanswer. “I guess not, but I wouldn’t read anything into my presence,” I said.

I left “or my eventual absence” unsaid.

“You think I’m reading in,” Senna said, looking serious. “You shouldn’t. I know him well, and he’s different now. Maybe he’s settling down. Maxim is way less intense than he used to be before Luka was born.”

I nearly choked on the water I had started to sip. I could hardly look the man in the face, and Senna considered that mellow. “Glad I didn’t meet him before,” I muttered.

She smiled indulgently and for a moment I stared at her, debating whether or not to say what I was thinking.

I decided that I would.

This woman had offered me something I hadn’t had in years. Friendship. I didn’t know if it was possible for that to grow, had no real experience with it outside of my family. Senna would be the first person I wasn’t related to that I’d be able to speak to who had some degree of understanding of my life.

And I wanted that friendship desperately, desperately enough to risk alienating her forever.

“Are you okay, Daniela?” she asked, concerned.

“Yes. I just wanted to say…”

I looked at her and then looked away, wanting to keep my shame from her. Gaze averted, I whispered, “I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

“For what?” she asked.

I could hear the concern in her voice, but I still didn’t look up.

“For whatever my father did to you,” I said, my eyes still lowered.

I couldn’t look at her, but I didn’t need to. Santo had done something to her, probably something horrible. I couldn’t think of another reason why Maxim would concern himself with our little family, and with Santo’s business.

“Daniela, it’s not your responsibility to apologize for someone else’s actions,” Senna said.

The conviction in her voice made me look up. “I know it’s not my responsibility, but I want to. I’m sorry. I know it won’t help, and I know he’ll never say it, but I am,” I said.

“Thank you,” she said after long seconds had stretched between us. But her expression was still troubled, and a moment later, she spoke. “Why did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Apologize for him,” she said.

Her voice hitched over the word “him,” again reminding me that her experiences with my father were less than pleasant.

“I don’t know,” I finally said. “It’s just a habit, I guess. My mother was always big on making sure we took responsibility for our actions.”

“Santo’s actions aren’t yours,” she said.

“I know they’re not, but if there’s something I can do to soften their impact, then I will. That’s only right,” I said.

Senna’s expression was more stern than I had seen it before. “You don’t owe him anything,” she said.

I shook my head. “Senna, you’re wrong. I owe him everything.”

She shook her head in disbelief, but there was no avoiding that fact.

“He may want you to think that,” she finally said, “but it’s not true.”

“You don’t understand,” I said.

“I understand more than you think and more than I care to.”

“Do you know how I ended up with the Carmellis?” I asked.

“No,” she said.

I’d never told the story to anyone, not even Sergei. He probably knew it; everyone did, but I’d never spoken the words. I needed to now.

“My birth parents…” I started and then stopped. I hated to think of them as that. Hated to think of them at all, but I hadn’t quite thought of a word for them. I continued, “They were drug addicts, and they owed,” I said.

“He bought you?” she asked, horror crossing her face.

“No. But my mother did. Somehow, and I still don’t know how, she found out that there were a couple of junkies looking to get rid of two little girls. She stepped in and saved me and my sister from God only knows what horrific fate,” I said.

My voice still trembled, and though the emotion had lessened over the years, I’d never lost sight of how close I’d been to a very different life.

“And Santo allowed it,” Senna said.

I nodded. “He didn’t have to, and he certainly didn’t have to keep us, especially when my sister started to get so difficult,” I said. “But he did.”

“You still don’t owe him, Daniela,” she said.

“Maybe. Maybe not. But I still owe my mother,” I said.

“If your mother loved you, and I know she did, she wouldn’t want you to apologize for him, or do anything else for him,” she said.

She looked at me with knowing eyes that made me want to hide but also made it impossible for me to move.

“What are you saying, Senna?” I asked.

“I see how Sergei has changed, and I see how you look at him. I also know that this world can tear at that, make it easy to forget what’s important. Don’t do that, Daniela. Don’t give up what could be your life, especially not for Santo Carmelli,” she said.

Her expression was scornful now, but I didn’t blame her.

“I care about him, and I can’t forget what he did for me,” I said.

My eyes began to well with tears, and Senna reached for my hand.

Where she had been angry just moments ago, she was now serene.

“He’s your father. No one blames you for that,” she said.

“But…?” I asked.

“But you don’t owe him your life.” She nodded, patted my hand. “I need to go check on Luka,” she said, standing.

It was only after she had left the kitchen that the first hot tear hit my cheek.

What was I doing?

There was no way to pretend or deny the truth. I loved Sergei, and as much as I would always love my mother, be grateful to Santo, I wouldn’t risk my future with him for anyone.

I reached for the paper towels on the table, wiping the ridged paper against my cheek.

I had a choice to make.

I prayed it would be the right one.

D
aniela

I
parked
and got out of the car, again in no hurry to enter the small bungalow that my father now called home.

But I eventually made it to the door and knocked. I stood to the side, having remembered his warning that standing in front of the door was for idiots and dead people.

“It’s me, Daddy,” I called.

I heard shuffling feet, and then he unlocked the door and ushered me in.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

He’d shut the door and now stood in front of it, blocking me in.

“I came to check on you. Looks like you’re doing better,” I said.

And it did. The bruises had all faded. There was no more pain in his step, no grimace on his face. Santo was as he had always been.

To my surprise, I wasn’t happy about that.

“Got a new place after Rita left,” he said. “You took care of her?”

“She was taken care of,” I replied.

He nodded, the motion tight but containing as much approval as I would ever expect from him. He pushed past the door and then went to the small couch where he clearly had been sitting before.

“Michael, she’s by herself,” he yelled.

I looked toward the back hallway and watched as Michael materialized.

“It’s so easy to sneak up on you even when you’re not occupied,” he said, something like malice in his eyes. A hot flush broke out over my skin, but I refused to betray any emotion. I had nothing to be ashamed of, but I couldn’t tell that from the way Michael looked at me as if I were a traitor. Worse.

“I didn’t realize I needed to keep my guard up around my father,” I said, proud when my voice stayed strong.

He didn’t respond but instead turned and walked to Santo.

“Michael, I’d like to speak to my father alone,” I said.

I felt my eyes on Michael, but felt Santo’s intense eyes on us, shifting back and forth, sizing each of us up.

“I thought we trusted each other. Is there something that you can’t talk about in front of me?” he said.

A direct challenge. Not Michael’s usual style, and not something I would tolerate.

“A family matter,” I said.

I wondered how far he would dare push this. I didn’t know if I had Santo on my side, but I needed to prove this point. I wouldn’t take this disrespect from him or anyone else.

Then he exhaled, and I saw that he was relenting.

“Mr. Carmelli, I’ll give you a call,” he said. He nodded at me curtly. “Daniela.”

He walked past me, not looking at me again as he exited the house.

“Huh,” Santo said.

“What?” I asked as I went to sit on the opposite side of the sofa. I didn’t really want to, but standing awkwardly in the middle of the room wasn’t a good option.

“I always thought you and him were going to end up together,” he said.

“You would have approved of that?” I asked. I didn’t really care about his answer, but I was curious enough to ask.

“No. I would not have. But he beats the fucking alternative,” Santo said.

He grimaced, and it was only with the greatest amount of discipline that I kept myself from jumping to Sergei’s defense. I needed to fix that, break old habits. Unlike Santo, Sergei wouldn’t expect me to defend him, especially as passionately as I wanted to.

“What does Michael need to call you about?” I asked on instinct.

“He’s going to pick up a couple hundred kilos for cheap,” Santo said.

I frowned at him, trying to temper myself. Not only was he being direct with me, but I knew what he was doing was something Sergei would not approve of.

“You’re back in business?” I said.

He looked at me then, sharp eyes narrow.

“A small venture. A little test to see where things stand,” he said.

“Santo…”

“Daniela…”

There was a wealth of meaning in that single word, and as he watched me, his anger began to rise. Despite my anger, I quickly went to placate him, again falling into an old habit, yet another I would have to break.

“Don’t be upset. It’s just that…” I trailed off and then paused, trying to think of what to say. Santo didn’t give me the chance.

“You don’t think your husband would like that, huh?” he said.

I shook my head. “I don’t.”

“I don’t either. And I don’t give a fuck,” he said.

His words were almost taunting, a dare, but one that I knew was not directed at me. Santo would chafe under someone else’s control, if there ever was such a thing. I’d learned that the best muzzle was the one Santo didn’t realize he was wearing. Yet Maxim and Sergei had challenged him directly, and I knew it wouldn’t be long before he felt compelled to strike back.

Still, I went back to that natural instinct for placation and peacemaking.

“What are you doing?” I said.

“You meddling in my business, little girl?” he said.

I shook my head. “No. Looking after your well-being,” I said, annoyed that he’d asked the question, even more annoyed that despite my wish that it was otherwise, I still cared about his well-being, probably always would.

He smiled then, the reaction one of genuine joy and happiness.

“Huh. No one’s done that since your mother,” he said. There was something almost wistful in his voice, and I watched his face, seeing some hints of softness.

“She told me to look after you,” I said, remembering what she’d asked, what I’d promised. Remembering how determined I’d been to keep that promise no matter what.

“Nora always did that. Looked after me.” He looked at me, nodded. “I never loved her,” he admitted.

I didn’t think he had, hadn’t even entertained the notion, but to hear him say it out loud was a little bit stunning. She’d devoted herself to him.

“She loved you,” I said.

He shook his head. “No, she didn’t. I don’t blame her. Our relationship wasn’t about that.”

“What was it about then?” I asked.

“Her father owed me, and she was the only thing he had to offer,” Santo said, letting his gaze linger on the ring on my finger, which suddenly felt so conspicuous. “But she was a good cook, kept a nice house. Handled all the shit I had no interest in.”

“You make her sound like a housekeeper,” I said, angry that he thought so little of the woman who had given him everything she had, the same one who had asked me to do the same. I wasn’t surprised, though. Wasn’t surprised at all.

“You were as protective of her as she was of you and your sister,” Santo said.

“Why shouldn’t I be? She was a good person,” I said.

“That she was. Good. Dutiful,” he said.

He pinned me with a stare, seeming to assess me.

“Shame your sister wouldn’t even come back for her funeral. But you stuck around, Daniela. Why is that?”

“She was my mother, and you are my father,” I said. The answer should have been self-evident. What other reason could there be?

He shook his head. “That’s not the reason.”

“Tell me the reason,” I said, though I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

This was uncharted territory for me, Santo giving me his unvarnished opinion of me. He’d told me what he didn’t like, had had no trouble at all expressing himself, but never quite in this way.

Honestly, I didn’t know what he thought of me, and I had imagined having this conversation or one like it many times before. Now I realized that rather than hanging on his every word, I was only looking at what he said with a mild curiosity.

Something had changed, and I suspected I knew what it was.

Santo paused and then said, “You stayed because you’re dutiful. Your mother taught you well, and you follow her example.”

“That’s why you had no trouble using me to save yourself?” I said, my voice rising with the anger that coursed through me, anger I hadn’t allowed myself to really feel until now. What he’d done was awful, and it was only sheer fortune that had given me Sergei and not someone like Santo. Not that Santo cared.

Temper had gotten the best of me, but Santo simply shrugged. “From what Michael told me, you’re happy with the arrangement.”

“But it wouldn’t matter if I wasn’t?” I said.

He shrugged again. “You’d make the best of anything.”

The he gazed at me, the way I knew him told me that he thought of what he’d said as a compliment, but it made me wither. If I’d had any question of what he thought of me, what he was willing to do for me—what he would allow me to do for him—there was none any longer.

“A-And what do you want me to do now?” I asked, speaking around the horror that almost choked me.

“I want you to do exactly what you have been doing. Be the wife your mother taught you to be. Keep him happy,” he said.

Even I—and I was no genius—had no doubt as to what he meant. Santo had no qualms about me using my body for his game, was encouraging it.

“You really are a monster,” I said, the words nearly clogging my throat. Somehow, despite all the evidence, I’d let myself think Santo valued me, cared, and I’d shaped my life around that belief. How stupid I’d been.

“You just now catching on?”

“Yes. I thought even you would be above whoring out your daughter,” I said.

“I didn’t tell you to fuck the guy, but if that’s what it takes to keep him happy then that’s what you’ll keep doing,” Santo said.

I was stunned, though I had no reason to be.

“Why would I do this for you?” I said.

“Maybe you won’t for me, but you’ll do it for my people. You said it yourself, their families will suffer the most if it comes to war,” he said.

“You mean they’d be slaughtered like cattle,” I said.

“Probably, but we don’t have to find that out. You just keep up your end of the bargain, keep that piece of shit entertained and amused, and leave the rest to me. Do your duty, Daniela,” he said.

I stood abruptly, and Santo didn’t appear remotely surprised. “I have to get out of here,” I said, turning and walking toward the door.

“Good girl, checking on your dad. Remember who you are, Daniela. Remember who you owe your life to,” he said, his voice following me like a specter I didn’t know if I could outrun.