10

Callahan.
Cerberus, my German Shepherd, enthusiastically greets me when enter the house. I smile, crouching down to pet him. He’s been with me for two years. A loyal companion.
Antonio is spending the night in town. I can’t blame him. I’m not a lot of fun these days and now that we’re back in the land of the living, he’s making up
for lost time.
Servants have cleaned more of the house in my absence. More dust cloths removed, almost the whole of the downstairs looking lived-in now.
The house is huge. Well, it’s a compound, a safe place. It should have been, at least, and it will be again now that I’m back. For all intents and purposes, the island is only accessible by sea or air. Guards stationed in a watchtower. The building itself is six centuries old. A castle for a nobleman whose name I can’t remember.
Another damn thing I can’t remember.
My family purchased the house more than five-hundred years ago when the owner’s family fell out of favor with the ruling party at the time. We’ve managed to hold onto it since, and the Scarfoni family has lived in it for all that time. Except, of course, for the brief decade after the massacre when it sat empty.
The Scarfoni family has been running things in southern Europe for all those years. We’ve stuffed the right pockets, made the right alliances. And we made the rules for all the crime families to obey. Ones they agreed to adhere to.
Well, agreed is a big word. That’s one thing my father did wrong, You can’t coerce true allegiance, I know that.
You either have it or you don’t and if you don’t, you cut it out.
But when the new trade deals were negotiated, I was a kid. Barely ten years old. And it did work for seven years until the Esmeralda Cartel and the Mancini Mafia Family joined forces, rounded up supporters, and took us down.
“Callahan,” Lenore, the woman who manages the house and one of the few people left that I trust, says as she comes out of the kitchen.
I appreciate the interruption and smile, relaxing a little. “Lenore, it smells wonderful.” It makes me realize how hungry I am.
Cerberus goes to her to take whatever treat she has for him. He doesn’t like many people so those he does seem to take a liking to, I remember.
“Thank you. It’s good to be back in my kitchen.” Lenore has been with our family since before I was born and is more like a grandmother than staff. While my mom loved baking, she wasn’t always successful, and she couldn’t cook a meal to save her life.
Crap. What a metaphor.
“You took lunch upstairs?”
“Yes, of course. And she ate every bite.”
“Good. I have a request.”
“You do?” I never have requests so she’s surprised.
“My mother’s creme caramel. Can you make it?” Burnt sugar. I want the memory back.
She appears confused momentarily but then nods, her smile a little sad. I know she loved my mom. “I’ll start on it tonight and have it for you first thing in the morning.”
“Thank you so much.”
I turn to walk out of the dining room as a woman begins to set the table for one. I stop and turn to Lenore. “Two. Set it for two.”
“Will David eat here?” she asks, her tone always just a little different when she mentions my uncle. I wonder if she realizes it herself.
“No.”
“Your brother?” Her eyebrows crawl up her forehead. Antonio rarely spends evenings at the house.
I shake my head.
It takes her a moment as she figures out who I mean to eat with. She nods, and I walk out of the dining room leaving Cerberus to follow her to the kitchen where I’m sure she has more treats waiting. I don’t stop to look at the portrait of my mother before climbing the stairs to my room where Alec is patiently standing guard.
“Anything?” I ask.
“Nothing. All quiet.”
“Good.”
I open the door not sure what to expect. Well, sure of one thing. It won’t be Portia on her hands and knees with her face down and ass up.
The thought makes me grin. She’ll make me bend her.
But I don’t have a problem with that.
I prepare myself for an attack but then again, I always prepare myself for an attack. Like Alec said, though, all is quiet, and I’m surprised to find that Portia is asleep on the armchair closest to the window, her head leaning against the wing.
I’m quiet as I make my way toward her. She’s wearing my clothes which look ridiculous on her. She has her feet tucked up under her. Her toes peek out from underneath and I see pink polish.
Her hair’s in a braid that’s coming undone, the shade even darker since it’s damp. She has a book on her lap, thumb in the page.
I take it slowly, look at the cover as she stirs with a quiet moan. She rubs her eyes with the back of her hand.
There’s a momentary pause when she opens them, confusion about where she is, I guess. After that, she starts with a gasp, pressing her back into the chair and looking up at me with those pale whiskey-colored eyes.
“You read Italian?” I ask, gesturing to the book.
She shifts her gaze to the book. Almost like she isn’t sure what I’m talking about before shaking her head no.
“What time is it?” she asks.
“Dinnertime.”
“Where’s Nathan?”
I shrug a shoulder. “Same place I left him. Where else would he be?”
“I want to see him.”
I move to place the book on the nightstand, and she stands up, adjusting her clothes. My clothes. I look her over, only to realize one of my favorite ties is knotted at her waist. It’s the only thing keeping the pants up.
“Hello, Resurrected Jesus. I want to see my cousin. I did what you asked of me. I showered, and I haven’t touched your things or done anything stupid.”
I smile at that and walk to the closet to change into a pair of jeans and a sweater. “But you also weren’t waiting for me as I instructed.”
“I did not – ”
“You don’t boss me around, Portia,” I throw over my shoulder, noticing the drawer where my cufflinks are stored, isn’t properly closed. It gets stuck sometimes, but I remember closing it.
Glancing at her, I go to it, open it.
“I didn’t steal anything if that’s what you’re thinking.”
No, she didn’t. Not even the ring I took from her. “You looked through everything?” I ask, turning back to her.
“Yep.”
“Good. That’s out of our way, then.”
She just narrows her eyes at me suspicious of me. She should be. I walk into the closet and when I emerge after changing, she’s standing at the window looking outside.
“Where are we?”
“Isola San Nicola,”
She folds her arms over her chest and shifts her weight onto her right foot. She’s uncertain but trying not to show it.
“Where is Isola San Nicola exactly?”
“Off Porto Di Napoli.”
“Naples?”
I nod. “I’m hungry.”
“How did you get me here? Get my brothers and cousin here?”
“Chopper and boat.” I walk to the door and open it. “Come on now, let’s go.”
“Where?”
“Dinner. I’m hungry.”
“So you’ve said. I want to see my cousin.”
“I’ve also said you don’t order me around, but I gather you have selective hearing. Now unless you want to get fucked before eating, get your ass out the door.”
Her jaw tightens and she digs her heels in, eyes brightening with anger. “No. And I’m not fucking you.”
I shake my head. “Fury.”
“What?”
I walk toward her, take her arm.
“The Furies. Greek mythology.”
“What the hell does that have to do with anything? Let go.”
I walk her toward the door. “Your face is the personification of fury,” I say then gesture to my cheek where she scratched me pretty good before I stopped her.
“Fury did this. Rage. Now, I’m hungry. We’re going to eat.”
She resists but isn’t a match physically. “I thought you were just going to fuck me when you got back. Isn’t that what you threatened?”
At that I stop, smiling a true smile. I look down at her, not releasing her as she struggles to peel my hand off.
“Is that what you were dreaming about?”
“What? No!”
I look her over, liking her in my clothes. Liking how small she is in them. I lean down, inhale when I’m close. She smells like me. My shampoo. My soap.
“Don’t worry, we’ll get to the fucking,” I whisper with a grin. “I know for a fact now that you’re really looking forward to it.”
When I pull back, I see her pulse thrumming in her neck, see how her face is flushed red.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“First, dinner.” I drag her through the door. Alec watches, snorts like it’s what he expected.
“I’m not eating with you. I want to see my cousin and I want to go home!”
“And where exactly is home?”
At that, she falters. I decide not to waste time, so before she realizes what’s happening, I bend down to lift her and toss her over my shoulder.
She yelps when I do. Then yelps once more when I smack her ass.
“Quiet,” I tell her.
She doesn’t quiet though. She doesn’t seem like the quiet type. She struggles, hurtling curses at me as I carry her down the stairs, through the living room. I nod at the soldier standing nearby and enter the dining room where I plant her to sit.
“Does your mother know the language you use?”
“My mother doesn’t know much these days since she’s dead, asshole.”
I stop, take in her anger. I drop it because why the fuck did I even say that? Her mother is dead. Murdered like mine. Well, maybe not exactly like mine.
Lenore, who opens the dining room door, quickly disappears back through it.
“I want to see my cousin,” Portia demands. I guess gaining a little backbone at my silence. “I’m not sitting here with you or eating with you. You killed my brothers. You’ve probably hurt Nathan. You – ”
I slam my hands on the arms of her chair and she jumps. I lean in close. I want to be sure I have her attention.
She leans away from me, quietly staring at me wide-eyed.
“I have not hurt your cousin.”
“How do I know that? I can’t know it until I see him for myself.”
“You know because I just told you.”
She juts her chin out.
“You will sit with me and you will eat with me.” She opens her mouth to argue but I continue. “And afterward, I’ll consider letting you see your cousin.” My concession.
Not that I need to make one.
Her expression changes and she searches my eyes. Probably trying to gauge if I mean it or not.
“Understand?” I ask.
“What does that mean? You’ll consider it?”
“It means if you’re good, I’ll take you to him so you can see for yourself that he’s fine.”
She stops, studies me for a long minute. “Do you promise?” she asks, earnest and innocent.
I’m surprised at the question. It’s almost childish. But I nod.
She stares up at me like she’s not quite sure whether or not to believe me. But what choice does she have?
“Are we eating in peace?”
She nods. “Fine.”
I straighten and when I turn to take my seat, I hear her mutter Neanderthal under her breath. I smile. Pretend I didn’t hear it as the kitchen door opens and Cerberus enters ahead of Lenore.