Wounded Redemption by Brook Wilder
Chapter 1
Rory
The car pulled through a pair of iron gates, and I took my third deep breath since we got into the car. None of them had worked, of course, as I don’t even think a bottle of liquor would have settled my nerves at this point.
I was about to meet Carmine for the second time in my life, and I didn’t know how I felt about it.
“It’s going to be okay, Rory,” Nico replied, giving my hand a squeeze. “My father wouldn’t dare attack us now.”
While my husband thought that, I didn’t. I didn’t trust Carmine D’Agostino as far as I could probably throw him. I didn’t want him to be around my son. I didn’t want him to infuse himself into our lives, but Nico was adamant that if we didn’t accept his invitation, he would come after us.
By now, I was certain Carmine knew that we had Angelica and Lorenzo in our grasp, our bargaining chip with Nico’s father now that we knew that Lorenzo was not Nico’s son. I had tried not to feel relief at the DNA results. Nico would have been an amazing father to the little boy, and I was more than willing to be his mom while his own mother healed.
While we didn’t talk about it much, I knew that Nico was struggling to figure out what to do now. For the longest time, he had been told the boy was his son, and now that it had come out that Lorenzo actually belonged to Elias, it threw this horrible wrench into everything.
Now we were about to go into the lion’s den, right into the fire I had tried so desperately to stay away from. I had begged Nico to let me leave Anthony back in the city, but he hadn’t bowed to my request. Anthony had to be there.
I could feel the concern in Nico’s touch as well, likely worried about what we were going to find once we arrived. He had been far too quiet since we had crossed into Long Island, and more than once I had seen him staring out of the window, his jaw clenched. A part of me wanted to ask him about his life here, but the majority of me decided to stay quiet.
This wasn’t a pleasure trip. This was a war that was brewing at the hands of Nico and his father, and I was caught up in it.
The trees parted, and a large, sprawling mansion appeared, the whitewashed walls gleaming in the midday sun. There were a ton of cars in the drive as well, causing our driver to stop halfway up the drive. “What the hell?” Nico replied as we took in the sight.
I echoed his sentiment, my stomach roiling at the thought of what we could find behind those doors. Was Carmine about to make a spectacle out of his son? Who was he holding court for?
Nico pulled open the door and I grabbed Anthony, who had been sleeping between us, out of his seat before doing the same. I hadn’t dressed up for Carmine, wearing a pair of simple black pants and a flowing top for comfort. Nico had chosen all black, truly looking like a man in a position of power, even though it seemed that his reign as don was now over since Carmine was out of the hospital.
He didn’t touch my hand as he rounded the car and came to stand next to me. I knew it wasn’t personal. Neither of us knew what we would be up against once we crossed the threshold, and now that we were here, Carmine could use anything and everything against us.
I hated the man. Nico was nothing like his father. The Nico I loved and even adored was good with his son and had gone and rescued the other boy even though the odds were stacked against him.
Even though he knew he would face his father’s wrath in doing so.
I just hoped I didn’t lose him with this visit. We were about to be on steady ground in our relationship, and I didn’t want his father tearing us apart.
“Stay close to me,” Nico murmured as Vincent joined us. “And listen to me. Everything I say and do in there is to get us the fuck out of here in one piece.”
“He’s not going to tear us apart,” I said softly. “I won’t let him.”
Nico glanced at me, and for a brief moment, I saw tenderness reflected in his eyes before he turned away, straightening his coat. “Come,” he said, his voice hard.
I wished I had his strength. My knees were knocking together, and I had a death grip on Anthony, wanting to run the other way so I wouldn’t have to face this evil man again. Carmine didn’t scare me; he terrified me, and it was on behalf of my husband, not me. I was worried about what he was going to do to Nico, what he might push my husband into doing that would send us all into upheaval.
We walked under the archway and through the front door, where a man greeted Nico with a nod. “Master D’Agostino,” he stated, his words thickly accented with a Scottish lilt. “Your father is waiting for you in the ballroom.”
Ballroom? This house had a ballroom?
“Have Tilda wait here,” Nico instructed me.
I turned to the woman who had come to take care of Anthony, seeing her frightened expression. “It will be all right. We will be right back.”
“I will look after her,” the man offered, giving Tilda a hesitant smile.
She nodded and I hefted Anthony onto my shoulder, grateful that he was sleeping at the moment. I didn’t care if he ever laid his eyes on the man who had tried to destroy his father. As far as I was concerned, Carmine was not Anthony’s grandfather. He hadn’t done anything to hold that title and never would. Carmine couldn’t be rehabbed, not after what he had done to Nico. There was a special place in hell for the Mafia don, and I couldn’t wait to see him depart for it.
Nico started forward, and I followed him down the long hall flanked by windows that spilled out to other paths, all covered, to the other sections of the house. The mansion was unlike any I had ever seen before; more like a villa than an enclosed home. In another setting, I would have marveled at its layout, but instead I stayed right behind Nico, our footsteps echoing in the surprisingly quiet space.
He turned a few corners before we came upon gilt inlaid doors bearing what I had come to understand as their family crest. “Deep breath, Rory,” he murmured, his eyes on the door. “I will get us out of this.”
I didn’t have time to respond before he pulled open the door and we moved inside. It was indeed a ballroom, the walls covered in a series of murals that depicted some sort of battle scene, far different than what I would have expected to see. Carmine D’Agostino sat at the end of the room in a large chair, like he was a king presiding over his court. From my vantage point, he still looked sickly, though the smug grin on his face erased any thought that he was truly still ill. Gone were the silk pajamas and robe that he had been in the first time we had met, and in their place was a three-piece suit in an unusual burgundy color, reminding me of blood.
The room was filled with men, all quieting as Nico stepped forward. From behind, I could see his shoulders vibrating with tension, tension that met the mood of the room.
“The prodigal son comes home!” Carmine boomed, his voice ringing out in the deathly still room. “And you brought your family. Come closer, Nicolas. Let me get a glimpse of my grandson.”
I forced my feet to move and follow Nico down the parted path to Carmine, lifting my chin as I noted all the stares. I wasn’t going to give Carmine the benefit of seeing me scared of him. He thought he could destroy us, scare us into submission.
Well, he had another think coming.
“I’m glad to see that you accepted my invitation,” Carmine stated as we arrived at his chair. “As you can see, I’m holding a series of meetings with my capos, celebrating my return to my seat, of course. Many thought I wouldn’t make it, but surely now they can see that I might be invincible.”
There was a chuckle, then a clearing of throats before the room fell silent once more, and Carmine’s eyes fell on Anthony. “Let me hold my grandson.”
I clutched Anthony tighter, and Carmine lifted a brow. “Give him the baby,” Nico said in a deadly calm voice. “Let my father see his grandson.”
I really, really didn’t want to. Just the thought of Carmine’s hands, hands that had seen bloodshed and violence, touching our son, made me sick to my stomach.
But Nico was stating I needed to, and since he was well aware of how his father conducted business, then I had little choice but to hand Anthony over.
Biting the inside of my cheek, I did just that, controlling my shiver as Carmine’s hand brushed mine. “My my,” he tutted as he gazed down at Anthony’s sleeping face. “You look just like your father when he was your age.”
I balled my hands into fists so as not to reach out and snatch Anthony away from Carmine as he leaned down and pressed his lips to my baby’s forehead, grinning as he did so. He knew what he was doing, and it made me sick. “So perfect,” he stated, looking at Nico. “Your heir, correct?”
I knew he was baiting his own son, and how Nico could just stand there and not react was beyond me. I wanted to do so on his behalf.
But it also told us that Carmine knew what we had found out, that Nico hadn’t fathered Lorenzo, and all the guilt that Nico had carried around for years had been for nothing.
“I don’t know, Father,” Nico finally said, crossing his arms over his chest. “If you deem him to be.”
Carmine chuckled and handed Anthony back to me. I had never been more relieved to get my son back in my arms. “Well then, I guess that would mean you have to remain alive for me to make that decision?”
“Are you threatening my life while I am here?” Nico asked casually, as if he was asking his father what we were having for dinner.
“Of course not!” Carmine exclaimed loudly, the room still quiet around us. “This is your home, is it not? I have asked for you to come so that I can celebrate the birth of my grandson, nothing more.”
I couldn’t believe him. He was up to something.
“Now,” Carmine continued, despite my inner thoughts. “Greet your don appropriately.”
I watched as he raised his hand, much like a woman would have done in another century to her suitor, and a gold ring glinted in the sun, the blood-red ruby far too large for a man to wear.
Nico took his father’s hand and pressed his lips to the stone, no emotion betraying how he felt inside for what his father was making him do.
When he straightened, Carmine looked at me expectantly. “You too, my dear. After all, you have married into this family.”
“Give me Anthony,” Nico replied, holding out his arms. There was a look in his eye that urged me to play along, to not put up a fuss now.
I just hoped that my husband had some sort of plan for this all. I handed our sleeping son over to his father, my heart softening as Nico laid a hand on Anthony’s small back as if to protect him, and stepped forward, gripping Carmine’s hand lightly. It was cold, and there was a faint tremor to it, as if the effort was too much for him.
But it was the glittering of his cold eyes that had me bending over it, pressing my lips to his ring just as Nico had.
As I tried to move away, he flipped his hand and grabbed my chin, his fingers biting into my skin painfully. “You are a pretty thing,” he stated, his eyes boring into mine. “I can see why my son is infatuated with you.”
I didn’t breathe as he continued to look at me, a hint of a grin on his face. “Brave too. All the qualities that I would expect Nicolas to choose in a woman. He would have been bored otherwise.” He chuckled. “Though I have heard you have gathered quite the list of men who are infatuated with you, Rory. There’s a certain district attorney that is quite taken with you too, right?”
I froze, surprised that he would bring that up. Why was I surprised, really? Carmine had a way of finding out anything he wanted to. After all, he had gotten me to the hospital when he wanted, without Nico even suspecting anything.
He finally let go of my chin and I backed away, not daring to look at Nico. I hadn’t told him about the pass Preston had made at me when I thought he was helping me, and how Carmine had found out that Preston had done so was beyond me.
“Well,” Carmine was saying, clapping his hands. “Enjoy the rest of the afternoon and evening, family. I have business to conduct, as you can see. I expect to see you both in the morning for breakfast, just the three of us.”
I swallowed and glanced over at Nico, but he was watching his father, his jaw not even clenched, as if he knew any emotion would be taken advantage of by the don. Carmine hadn’t brought us all this way to just have breakfast with him or to see Anthony. He had already thrown out the first stone to break our façade, and I knew that Nico was going to want to know more than what I had told him about Preston.
How could Carmine hate his son so much? He would do anything to destroy his happiness, which wasn’t what a parent was supposed to do at all.
We had to survive. We had to get out of this unscathed, or I was afraid that our relationship might not survive what was to come. Nico still had Angelica and Lorenzo. Carmine had lost his upper hand on Nico regarding his “son.”
It was only a matter of time before the hammer fell, and I was afraid it might fall on us both, destroying this little bit of happiness we had found in each other.
