End of the Innocence Page 7

  A figure appeared in my peripheral vision, and I dropped my eyes down, making eye contact with a tall, thin man. He moved closer, his eyes studying me, and my mouth automatically turned up in greeting. “Hello.”

  He nodded at me and removed a toothpick from his mouth. “Good afternoon. You must be Julia.”

  I nodded hesitantly, my smile wavering slightly as I took in his strong stance and scarred face. Dark eyes that carried no warmth. “Yes. I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure of meeting. You are ...” I attempted to stand, juggling my plate with one hand while extending my free hand out to him.

  “Leo.” Brad’s voice came from behind the man, and I fought a shiver at the tone. It was unlike anything I had ever heard from Brad, a manner that commanded utter respect and, at the same time, carried hatred and disgust.

  The man’s eyes met mine, and a trace of irritation flicked through them before he composed his face into a mask of veneration. He turned, nodding his head at Brad. “Mr. De Luca.”

  My hand was still stuck awkwardly out, and the two men stared at each other, oblivious to my social gesture. I sighed noisily and sank back down into the swing, putting the ignored hand to good use and attacking some mac and cheese. I chewed baked deliciousness and watched the men, feeling like a spectator in some ancient art of combat.

  Brad had about three inches on the man, and at least eighty pounds of muscle, yet the man seemed unafraid of the fury that radiated from Brad’s core. Leo. I recognized the name. This was the man who had killed Broward; this was the man who had come to my house in the middle of the night, with my death on his agenda. Brad leaned forward, putting his mouth close to the man’s ear and spoke softly. I strained to hear his words, almost falling off the swing in my eavesdrop attempt. I covered the slip by starting to swing, every push of the bench taking me closer, then farther away, then closer to the conversation.

  Brad was tense, his jaw flexing, and I saw his hands clench. Leo turned and met my eyes, giving nothing away, his gaze flitting quickly back to Brad. Then they turned as one to me, and I struggled to swallow the broccoli casserole filling my mouth.

  “Julia,” Brad said quietly. “This is Leo Casando. He is an employee of this family, one who I believe I have spoken of in the past. I apologize for interrupting your earlier introduction, but there was a matter of importance that I needed to discuss with Leo.”

  Okay. This isn’t awkward at all. I nodded to Leo and attempted a smile but failed horribly, the final result being somewhere between a glare and a grimace.

  The man started to speak but was silenced by Brad’s hand, which gripped his shoulder tightly. “Leo has other business to attend to,” Brad said smoothly. He released the man’s shoulder and clapped him on the back.

  I nodded again and sank back into the swing, watching as Leo turned abruptly and walked away, his gait agitated. Brad sat next to me, the swing creaking slightly and threw an arm casually over my shoulders.

  “Is everything okay?” I asked quietly.

  Brad shook his head. “He shouldn’t have approached you. I’m sure he has been told of our situation, but I just reminded him of it.” He leaned over, taking my plate and setting it on the ground. I furrowed my brow.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Shh ...” he said, lifting me up easily and sliding me sideways onto his lap, and nuzzled my neck. “Have I mentioned how much I love it when you smell like fried turkey?”

  I laughed despite myself, quieting when the two women next to us glanced over. “Brad, let me up.” I pushed against him, and he held me easily down, stealing a kiss before looking into my eyes.

  “I want to marry you.”

  I laughed softly. “We are getting married.”

  “Sooner. I want my family to recognize you for who you are, my wife.” He brushed a bit of hair off my face and studied my eyes. The intensity of his eyes silenced the flippant response in my throat. “Leo and the others, they understand that you are to be left alone, but I won’t sleep soundly until you are fully protected. As my wife.”

  I swallowed, seeing the worry in his eyes. “Brad, I’ll be fine.” He said nothing, and I ran my hand along his wrist gently. “I need this time, I need to know that I am making the right decision.”

  He shook his head quickly and let out a small smile. “The right decision is for me to snatch you up quickly, before you realize that you can do better than me.”

  I tilted my head playfully—mock thinking. “You know ... you may be right, Mr. De Luca.”

  “But no one,” he growled, bringing his mouth down to my neck and teasing the curve of it, “will ever love you like I love you.”

  I said nothing, allowing my soul to swoon as his lips took a slow, lengthy journey up my neck and to my lips. Inside, I fought with my mind as it swooped through endless scenarios that could occur with our future. Then his mouth took mine, and I forgot everything but the sensation of pure, premarital bliss.

  Chapter 18

  After I polished off some pecan pie we moved—Brad, Maria and I—a threesome of normal, up a giant staircase onto a quiet floor and down a plush hallway. Brad’s hand protectively at my back, I recognized this for what it was—time. Maria gave me a small smile, kissed Brad gently on the cheek, and leaned on a large set of double doors.

  It was dark inside, and I blinked, trying to adjust to the light. Dark mahogany lined the walls of my dream library, a space filled with books of every shape and size. Other than bookshelves, there was one fireplace, four chairs, and three men. The family.

  Maria excused herself, leaving me as the sole vagina in the room, a ratio that left me distinctly uncomfortable. I fought the urge to fidget as we stepped forward.

  Beauty. That was the first thing that hit my mind. The genes that blessed Brad with an impressive stature, gorgeous features, and mind-numbing sex appeal hadn’t skipped over his siblings. Two dark, younger versions of Brad, similar in their devastation, but slightly varied in features, stood before me, flanking an older man, who stood at our entrance. He stepped forward, aided by a cane, a tall man with a shock of white hair and dark skin. He stopped before us and tilted his head at me.

  “You must be Julia.” A scratchy voice spoke, that despite its tenor, commanded respect. Eyes that studied me carefully.

  Unsure of the proper protocol, I stepped forward, extending a hand and shaking his. He had a fierce grip, and grabbed my opposite shoulder as he grasped my hand, locking me into his space, his eyes arresting me. They searched my soul, a desperate invasion that explored every inch, distrust and accusation in their depths. With a jerk, he released my hand, turning away from me and walking carefully back to a leather chair which he sank into, words tumbling from his mouth with a sigh. “Please, sit. I am weary from today’s activities.”

  Brad gestured to a chair and I sat, my legs shaky. He stood beside me, strong and tall. “We can’t stay long. We have other obligations.”

  His father scoffed, an action that turned into a cough, and he stopped for a moment, his face turning red before he let out a series of coughing barks. One of the men beside him stepped forward, concern in his eyes, and the old man waved him off irritably. “Stop that, sit down. Everyone, sit down. Brad, find a chair. I won’t have you hovering above me like a damn hawk.”

  I glanced at Brad, noting his tight face, and watched as he nodded, dragging up a chair, wariness across his features.

  “I assume you know the business of this family?” It was a dry question, stated without malice or concern, directed at me.

  I nodded, meeting his sharp eyes. “Yes.”

  “And you find ... issue, with this business?” He watched me closely, sitting back in his chair and studying me.

  I stared back, my face expressionless. “Issue would be the wrong word. I disagree with your business practices. Issue indicates that I am confrontational in my disapproval.”

  A slow smile spread over his face, a transformation that brought a hint of the good looks he must have once
possessed. “That’s an interesting choice of words, Ms. Campbell.”

  I said nothing, and he glanced briefly at Brad. “What exactly are your intentions with my son?”

  “I intend to marry him.”

  “Yes, I gathered that from my son. The issue is, Ms. Campbell, that marrying Bradley is not quite as simple as happily ever after. Do you love my son?”

  I hesitated at the change in his tone, the question rolling harsh off his lips. “Yes.”

  He leaned forward, fixating me with cold eyes. “Imagine your love for my son, if love is what it truly is. Whatever that love is, it won’t possibly compare what you will feel for your own children—what I feel for Bradley, as well as my other sons. Your children, whether they are number one or five, will be more precious to you than your own soul. And you, choosing him to marry, to father your children, are putting those future babies in danger. You will never be able to sleep soundly, knowing the evil that waits for them. You will never be able to vacation, or play with them in the park, without worrying about cars driving by, or men who look at you a moment too long. You are not marrying Brad. You are marrying this family, and endangering yourself and your children with that act. You may be scared of me now, child, but I am one family. There are four others, in this city alone, that have us dead center in their targets. You are not, and will not, be safe in this family. You are marrying into a lifetime of fear, and you need to understand that now, before it is too late.”

  I listened to his words, understanding the reasoning behind them, my thoughts wandering down paths I had not even considered. I had been so worried about being against the Magianos that I had not considered what being part of them would entail.

  “I am not marrying Brad for safety. I am marrying him because I am in love.”

  He leaned back and smiled slightly, a cruel expression on his face. “Let me tell you a story about Bradley. We had a dog, an old mutt that used to sit behind one of our butchers. He would eat the scraps that we threw out each day. And one day we opened the shop to find him inside, his mouth bloody, meat still inside his mouth. I started to kill him, grabbed a meat beater from the counter and went to smash his skull in. But Brad stepped in front of me.”

  He laughed, looking over at Brad. “The boy was eleven years old, and he stepped in front of me, his father, to save a dog.” He stood, leaning heavily on the cane, the movement slow and pained. “You don’t know the Italian way, but disobedience is not acceptable. I told Brad to leave or kill the dog himself. He refused, and stood his ground.” He shot Brad a look of disgust. “He defied me over a dog, a mutt, an animal not worth mopping the floor with.”

  He looked into my eyes, stepping forward, speaking slowly. “I used the beater on Brad’s skull instead, knocking him unconscious with two blows. He spent four days in the hospital before he woke up. And his first question when he did?” He closed his eyes briefly. “The dog, he wanted to know about the damn dog!” He finished the statement with a snarl, his finger stabbing the air in Brad’s direction to punctuate the sentence.

  “We had killed that dog before we even took Bradley to the hospital. Bradley risked himself for a dog—a trash animal he had played with in the alley one day. So yes, he is marrying you, but what does that mean to me?” He straightened and turned, walking carefully, his words tossed over his shoulder to me. “You are worse than a dog, Ms. Campbell. That dog was hungry, eating for his survival. You are eating to get fat, and ruining my son’s life with your greedy acceptance of his sacrificial offer. I am not surprised that he is marrying you. I am only surprised that you are stupid and selfish enough to accept.” He waved dismissively in my direction and closed the space to the window, leaning heavily on the sill and looking out toward the backyard. “Leave, I am tired.”

  I stood, anger radiating from me in waves of heat. I felt Brad’s hand at my arm, a warning in his touch. “Mr. Magiano, I am not marrying into your family. I want nothing to do with your family or your way of life. You scorn my decision to endanger my unborn children. I question your role as a father. You think you lead this family? You believe they have respect for you, but I assure you, anyone who respects you is not intelligent enough to distinguish fear from respect. Thank you for your time, it was a pleasure seeing what caused Brad to become the man I fell in love with. Anyone who left this family with some semblance of sanity has my admiration, and he certainly has my love.”

  He laughed, a hard sound that did nothing but fan my infuriation, frustration swelling in me, mixed with a fear, an awareness of my low standing in this room. He turned, his eyes meeting mine across the room. In unison his two sons rose, twin pillars of gorgeous framing the old man’s empty seat. I ignored them, my hands in fists by my side.

  The old man spoke slowly, his eyes locked on mine. “For someone who owes me her life, you are a nasty little bitch.”

  I turned from his face and met the eyes of Brad’s brothers, two sets of barely contained anger. Right back at’cha. Then I turned, striding to the double doors and shoving on the wood with a burst of anger.

  ♦♦♦

  The doors settled silently behind Julia, and Brad watched them close completely before turning back to his father. “She’s not Hillary. My love for her is much stronger than that. And she is much stronger than Hillary. You are not going to be able to scare her into submission, or convince her to leave with threats. She will stand up to you.”

  A small smile creased the lines of his father’s face. “I would have thought you would have picked a smarter girl than that, Bradley.”

  “Stay away from her. And make sure that message travels through the ranks.” He stared into one brother’s eyes, then the other, both of them shrinking slightly under his stony stare. He turned to leave and was stopped by his father’s voice.

  “I thought you had her under control, Brad.”

  He turned to meet his father’s eyes.

  “You had assured me of her silence, of her loyalty to this family. You expect us to welcome her, to protect her, but she has nothing but disrespect for me and for your family. Why should I trust her to keep her silence?”

  “You don’t have a choice. You are my father, and she will be my wife. It is done. Last I checked, blood still means something in this family.” He didn’t wait for a response, but turned and left the room, shoving open the double doors without restraint, the heavy wood slamming into the walls with a loud crack.

  In unison, the two brothers moved, stepping forward with curses and anger but were stopped with the raised hand of their father. “Let them go.” He moved with slow steps back to his chair, settling in with a heavy sigh. “There are other ways to handle this.”

  Chapter 19

  We rode back to the house in silence, my mind flitting through the words of his father, playing on repeat the conversation we had had. My hands threatened to shake, and I squeezed them together. I was not used to confrontation. With Brad, yes. With strangers I didn’t know, ones who murdered people without thought, no. It was a new experience, and one I hoped to never experience again.

  “Are you okay?” Brad’s voice was tight, and I looked over to see his jaw clenched.

  “Yeah. You never told me about the dog ... and your father putting you in the hospital.”

  “It’s one of a lot of stories, ones I never want you to have to hear. I’m at peace with them. They made me into the person I am today.” He reached over, gripping my hand. “He is right, about your safety.”

  I ran my free hand over his, watching the muscles in his hand flex. “You mean, from the other families?”

  “Yes. It is a small risk, but one that is present. The risk is diminished because of my lack of involvement in family activities. I don’t engage in actions that would spark a vendetta. But it is a risk, and the thought of someone hurting you terrifies me.” He pulled into the dark drive of the house, pressing the garage door opener and waiting on its movement. He turned to me. “My house is well protected—our security system is the best on the
market. But that doesn’t protect you the rest of the time. How would you feel about private security? Someone to keep an eye on you when we are apart?”

  I shuddered. “No.” The words spilled out quickly and with strength. “I don’t want anyone following me, or watching me. I need my freedom. I’d rather deal with the risk.”

  His silence voiced his disapproval, and the car rolled forward, coming to a stop inside the garage. He turned off the engine and turned to me, cupping my face in his hand. He sighed, his eyes searching mine before pulling me to him for a kiss.

  I broke the contact, wanting to finish the conversation. “Do you understand? Why I don’t want security?”

  “Yeah. I wouldn’t want it either. But I don’t like the thought of you without protection. I want you to start training with Ben.”

  “Ben? In what, jujitsu?” I raised my eyebrows.

  “Yes. Meet with him a few times; he can train you at the house. If you don’t think it’s worth your time, then you can stop.” The concern in his eyes was heartbreaking, unease submerged in dark brown depths.

  A close friend of Brad’s, Ben didn’t strike me as lethal, but I knew martial arts were a major focus in his life. I had met Ben a few weeks after our engagement, and he was a familiar face in the house, taking advantage of Martha’s cooking on lasagna night, and often working out with Brad. I liked him, his quiet sense of humor a good fit with Brad’s and my outspoken personalities. Newly single, his last relationship had ended badly, the pain still fresh in his eyes when she came up. Ben and Brad had met playing baseball, part of a city league that ran for two months every summer. As best I could tell, baseball season was an event they looked forward to all year. Brad had spent a good part of last week in the den, poring over Eastbay catalogs with Ben and ordering custom uniforms, bats, and equipment. They were like kids looking forward to Christmas, our meals now revolving around lineups, schedules, and recruitment of key players.