Ruthless: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (3 page)

"He is different from Tomasso," I agreed. "Still, both of them are remarkable men. You two are lucky."

"They're lucky to have remarkable wives," Adriana said with a smile. "And you know what? There's a guy out there for you too."

We got back to the studio, and Adriana parked in front. She walked into the studio with me, taking a look around. "You want me to fill out some paperwork for Johnny?"

"Nah," I said. "I know your contact info, and that one isn't going on the expense account anyway."

"Like hell it isn't," Adriana said, her green eyes flashing. I knew that look. It was when Adriana got stubborn, from which side of her family, the Italian of her maiden name or the Irish that lent her her features, I didn't know. "And don't tell me otherwise, or else you don't get your sandwich."

"What?" I said, confused. Adriana pulled up the plastic bag, which had the wrapped-up second sandwich from her order, along with the side of fried clams, and set it on the counter. “Ade . . .”

"No arguments, Carmen. You're losing weight, and when we were at lunch, I could actually see your jaw muscles working against your skin. What are you now, ninety pounds?"

"Ninety-four," I said, knowing the number exactly from that morning's stepping on the scale. "But—"

Adriana grabbed my arm and pulled me into a comforting hug. "I'm not trying to make you feel bad. I care about you, and I love you like a sister. You're as close, if not closer to me, than Luisa is, and we're technically the same family. You saved my life, and you saved my husband's life. I can never repay that. But I’m going to make sure you're not starving, even if you are a fellow artist in your own right."

I couldn't help it any longer. I hugged my friend back and felt tears come to my eyes. "Thanks, Ade. I promise you that someday, I'll pay you back for this."

"You’d better," Adriana said with a chuckle. "Remember, the Mafia interest rates are nothing you want to let get away from you. I'm charging you half a sandwich a year interest, compounded. You let it get away from you, and you're going to be buying me a party platter with a six-foot-long sub before you know it."

I
checked
my suit for the third time that day, making sure that my shoes were buffed as best I could and that my tie was knotted perfectly. I was determined to make a good impression, and I took a deep breath, calming my nerves.

I'd taken the bus to the Bertoli mansion, figuring that with enough cars coming, I didn't need to take up another space for whoever was dealing with that mess. Besides, my battery was still giving me fits, and I wouldn't have enough cash to pay for a recycled battery for at least another few weeks.

I went around to the side gate, where I knew from childhood memories associates and workers were supposed to go, and rang the bell. "Yeah?"

"Dante Degrassi. I'm supposed to be helping at the party tonight?"

There was a moment that drew out into a millennium as I waited for whoever was on gate control to check my name. Inside, the gnawing little animal that had sat in my stomach since I was seven dug around, telling me that I'd be dismissed with a laugh and told to get the hell off the property, and that everything Julius had told me was nothing more than another prank.

The intercom clicked back on, and I felt my heart stop in my chest. "Yeah, you're good," the voice said, unleashing a massive rush of relief in my chest. "Head up to the main house, side door. You'll be met in the kitchen area."

The gate buzzed and I pulled, almost trembling as I stepped foot onto the Bertoli mansion grounds for the first time in nineteen years. I had to remind myself to keep going after I was all the way through the gate, and I headed up the driveway toward the main house. I was impressed again by the house, which was a massive structure. I don't know if it was Victorian or Gothic or what, but it just oozed power and respectability. The manicured lawns with tasteful bushes and trees lent the house an aura of peacefulness, of a stateliness that said the Bertolis were planning on being there for generations to come. Even the crushed gravel under my feet seemed high-class as it crunched and squealed with each step I took. It was where I wanted to be again, and I felt the heat in my belly flare up. I deserved to be one of the people with access to this place, not meeting mid-level enforcers at cheap bars, clutching at brown envelopes of cash.

I went around to the kitchen area, again from memory, where I had to swallow a little bit of surprise and, I had to admit, fear, as I saw Tomasso Bertoli, the Don's son and heir, standing and waiting for me. "Dante?"

"Yes, sir," I said, making sure to sound calm and collected. I knew that if I impressed this man, I'd be able to make strides up the ladder, and maybe get out of my one-room shithole of an apartment. "Dante Degrassi."

Tomasso nodded, thinking. "Degrassi . . . Degrassi . . . wasn't your father part of the organization? I remember a man named Degrassi long ago."

"Uh . . . yeah, my dad worked for Don Bertoli,” I said, trying not to feel shame. "In fact, I even came here a few times when I was a kid. I went to your third birthday party."

"Really? Wow, sorry. It's been a long time," Tomasso said, offering his hand. "I didn't recognize you.”

"It's okay," I replied, at least warmed by Tomasso’s not immediately bringing up the reason I'd gone from the penthouse to the outhouse, if he even remembered. We shook hands, and I smiled, even if it was a professional handshake. "Uhm, Julius said you might need my help tonight. Where do you need me?"

Tomasso nodded and pulled out his smartphone, checking something on it. "Hold on, I had a list here . . . okay. You're going to be in charge of parking cars tonight at first, and working with my wife while she acts as the hostess. The guests should start arriving in about a half hour, so let me show you the map and peg board we set up for the whole thing."

Parking. A fucking valet job. Still, I was determined to show that I could do the job properly, so I followed him inside. "The system isn't too complicated. I hope you don't get confused. I know it's a lot to throw at you quickly," Tomasso said. "I made a grease board with the drawing of the parking area. We'll set that up by the area you'll be working. The magnetic hooks are where you can put the keys when you park them so they don't get lost. Any questions?"

"No. Looks good to me," I said, grabbing the board and following Tomasso outside. I propped the board against a lamp post that helped illuminate the driveway and dusted off my hands. "What about afterward?"

Tomasso looked a little chagrined, then shrugged. “Well, to be honest, I had someone else come up with the job list. I didn't realize a multiple-generation guy was working the party, so—"

"It's okay," I interrupted him, forcing a smile. "If I need to hang out here with the cars, I will."

Tomasso shook his head. "Nah, the perimeter security staff will make sure nobody gets stupid with them. How about after, say, eight o'clock or so, you come inside, grab yourself some food, and join in the party? Aunt Margaret's getting some five-tier monstrosity that could feed a small nation, and the rest of the spread's just as big. Come on in and enjoy yourself.”

I blinked, surprised. "Really?"

Tomasso nodded. "I've got more to do before everyone shows up, including making sure the caterers are setting up right, so I'll leave you here.”

"Cool. And thanks, Mr. Bertoli."

Tomasso left, and I positioned myself right next to the sign, promising myself that I would do a perfect job.

Just like Tomasso said, the first guests started to arrive right at six o'clock, with Tomasso's wife, Luisa, coming out and acting as the receiving hostess, standing outside the front door of the mansion. When she waved me over, I jogged and positioned myself at the foot of the steps, off to the side so that as soon as the guests were out of their car, I'd be able to get the keys and park the vehicle.

For the most part, most of the guests ignored me, which was both relieving and infuriating at the same time. It was infuriating in that even the Bertoli men whom I'd met and worked with on occasion before ignored me, like I was some sort of invisible ghost who just magically took their keys and parked their cars via teleportation or something. Is it that hard to at least say, 'here you are', or even better, 'thanks'?

After about an hour and a half, Luisa shook her head when she saw the next car pull up. "
Mi hermano. ¿O que diabos ele está pensando?"

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Bertoli, what was that?" I said, trying to at least not be invisible. "Do you need help?”

"No, thank you. I said it's my brother from Brazil," she said as the car pulled up. I had to admit it was the most ridiculously over-the-top type of supercar I'd ever seen, a shiny gold-painted abomination with enough body kit, specialized fender, spoiler, supercharger, and other additions to nearly obliterate the fact that at one point, the car had been a Ferrari . . . I think.

The driver revved the engine to nearly screaming levels three or four times before idling and opening the gull-wing door and getting out. Whoever he was, he was tall, well put together, and had that sort of annoying arrogance that I hated and wanted at the same time, because it belonged to a man who knew he could get whatever he wanted and was rarely told no.
"Ei irmã. Há quanto tempo."

"It's been a long time, Eduardo. You're late."

"Don’t blame me. Blame the stupid
Norte
immigration services," Eduardo said as he came around. I wasn't looking carefully enough, or perhaps I was just tired after running around and parking cars for nearly two hours, but as I came around the side of the car, I bumped into Eduardo, my hip smacking into his.

"Sorry," I said, reaching for the door handle on the car. I was turned away from Eduardo, so I was caught off guard when he shoved me from behind, sending me sprawling onto the gravel.

"Stupid piece of shit. What the fuck were you thinking?" Eduardo said, his voice low and deadly. I turned around on my back, my hands up to try and defend myself, when Luisa interrupted things.

"Eduardo!" she barked, stopping her brother in the middle of bringing his leg back to kick me. "It was a mistake. Go inside before you make a scene.”

Eduardo looked at his sister, then back at me. He was angry, not only at what I'd done, but also at being interrupted by his sister. "Stay out of my way."

He turned and walked away, and I got to my feet, brushing myself off. I noticed that my suit coat had ripped along the bottom edge and sighed, hoping I could find a replacement coat at Penney's instead of having to buy a whole new suit.

I was so focused on my suit coat that I didn't hear Luisa come around the car, standing in front of me. "Are you all right?"

I was startled, and I jumped slightly when I looked up and saw the tall woman looking me directly in the eyes with her disconcerting black eyes. She was beautiful, almost too beautiful. "Uh . . . yeah, Mrs. Bertoli. It's not a great suit anyway."

She nodded and looked at the cut. "After the party, I’ll give you the money for a new coat. My brother gets in those moods sometimes."

"Thank you, Mrs. Bertoli, but you don't need to. Really." Of course, I was lying. Anyone who would wear a two-year-old JC Penny suit to the Bertoli mansion wasn't someone who could afford to replace it at the drop of a hat, but I remembered my courtesy as best I could.

"It doesn't matter. Remember, during the cleanup, find me," she said. Just then, another car pulled up, an old Honda that made my car look like it was showroom new, and she smiled. "In fact, leave my brother's car here. Take care of this car first, premium parking spot."

The car shut down, and a tiny Latina got out, so beautiful that my breath caught in my throat. Long, straight black hair framed a face that was cute and doll-like, with luscious lips and sparkling eyes that made my heart skip a beat even though her smile wasn't even directed at me. "Luisa! I didn't know you were working the door."

"It lends that family touch," Luisa said, coming around and giving the woman a hug. "How are you doing, Carmencita?"

"Just because you are a foot taller than me, do you have to call me Little Carmen every time we get together?" the woman asked, still smiling. "Don't make me start calling you Grande Luisa."

Luisa laughed, then gestured to me. "Here, Dante will park your car. Where are your keys?"

"Oh, here they are," Carmen said. She held out the keys to me, setting them in my hand. "Thank you."

"It's a pleasure," I said, speaking honestly for the first time tonight. I watched as the two women went up the stairs, Carmen tiny next to Luisa Bertoli but still enchanting. I shook my head, bringing myself back to reality. "Face it, Degrassi. A woman like that . . . you've got no fucking chance. Just park the damn car."

Still, I could smell the scent of jasmine when I got into Carmen's car, and it was just like I'd imagine she would smell. I made sure to follow Mrs. Bertoli's orders and gave her the best parking spot still available. Sighing, I took the keys out of the ignition and held them in my hand, getting out of the car and carefully closing the door. I went back to the peg board and hung up Carmen's keys, my fingers lingering on the fob for a second before I let them go totally and looked at Eduardo's supercar.

"Fuck it, running it into a tree would just get me fired," I said to myself as I went around to the driver's door and slid inside. I noticed a sticker and saw that the car was a rental, which made sense, although I didn't know that you could rent a car like this. I noticed one other thing that I had to at least smile about—the car was an automatic. "All this power, and he rents an automatic? Fucking poser."

I parked the supercar, nowhere near as carefully nor in as good a spot as Carmen's, and took the keys back to the pegboard, slotting them up. Mrs. Bertoli came out just as I did and waved me up next to her. "Yes?"

"Here," she said, slipping a small clip of money into my jacket pocket. "In case I forget as the party goes on. Also, that should be almost everyone, so go and enjoy yourself."

"What about when people want to leave?" I asked, looking back at the arrangement of nearly two dozen cars. "It's going to be a mess getting them out of here."

"I'll handle that. If I need to, I'll find you. Enjoy the party."

Luisa turned and walked off, her high heels clicking on the tiles while her voluptuous frame swayed side to side in her cocktail dress. I watched for a second, then shook my head. Tomasso Bertoli was certainly a lucky man, and in any normal situation, I'd have been distracted by Luisa walking away, but after seeing Carmen, she was the only thing on my mind as I headed toward the kitchen, hoping to grab something and maybe brush myself off before joining the party.

"Who knows?" I whispered to myself as I walked through the foyer. "Maybe you can say hello to her again."