Chapter 44
Dinners at the Marcello estate ranged from lonely—when I arrived home from work at an odd hour and gobbled leftovers at the kitchen counter—to downright boisterous.
Today was the latter. Eli had insisted we join Aldo and his mother Melissa, along with Carlo and another of Aldo’s closer confidants. I admit, it was almost nice to surround myself with so much talk and laughter.
To watch Aldo and Carlo laugh at a shared memory. To listen to Melissa brag that Eli had made the pasta from scratch. To watch Eli blush at the approval of everyone at the table.
Almost a family.
The ring of Aldo’s phone reminded me, starkly and irrevocably, that we were not—and never would be—a true family.
He rose from the table and lifted his phone to his ear in one swift movement. “Talk to me.”
He’d moved to the side of the room, out of hearing distance, but I still noted the tension in his rigid posture. Or the way his eyes went directly to Carlo. “Fetch—”
But he cut off suddenly as though the person on the other end had protested. His brow pulled low, and his gaze drifted sideways.
To me.
My hands went suddenly cold. My stomach clenched around the half-plate of pasta I’d eaten. Why did this kind of shit always happen during dinner?
“They want Dottore Bennett,” Carlo’s soft voice cut through my thoughts, “don’t they?”
Aldo’s jaw ticked, and he nodded. “One of my men has been injured. Badly. And … they’re asking for you.”
For me. My heart thudded against my eardrums. Why, why, why did I keep getting pulled back into this madness?
“You don’t have to go,” said Aldo. “Of course. I have other—”
“I’ll go.” The words were out of my mouth before I’d thought them. But I didn’t regret it. I was a doctor, first and foremost. And that meant I saved lives, no questions asked.
I stood, but paused to give Eli a serious look. “Finish your dinner with Mrs.—with Nonna, okay?”
Eli nodded. Somber.
Without further hesitation, I followed Aldo and Carlo to the car. We rode in silence through the cramped streets of Manhattan to a modest safehouse on the edge of town.
The scene inside was chaos. Blood smeared the floor, hung in a thick copper tang in the air. A young man lay on a makeshift cot in the middle of the living room, clutching his abdomen while an older man hovered over him.
Sweat slicked the young man’s too-pale face, and his chest fluttered with fast, shallow breaths.
When I strode into the room, all eyes fell on me. A hush stole over the room, murmurs and cries muted to nothing. I even imagined the wounded man’s breath evened a bit.
“Clear out,” I ordered without breaking stride. “Please.”
The men lingered, casting uncertain glances at Aldo until he barked a single word: “Now.”
As the room emptied, I crouched beside the man to peel back his blood-soaked T-shirt. Knife wound, my doctor’s brain informed me. Deep, serious, not fatal. Not positioned to have hit any major organs, though I’d need to order imaging to be sure.
But for now …
“You’re lucky,” I said, my tone clinical. “This could’ve been worse.”
The man groaned something unintelligible, and one of the remaining men muttered, “Stop cryin’ Paulie. Dottore Bennett will fix you up.”
That title again. Dottore. The Italian word for doctor, but the way they kept saying it made me think it was something else, too. But that was neither here nor there if I didn’t patch this man up.
Quickly enough, my work stole my focus. In no time at all, I was bandaging it up. By the time I stepped back from my patient, he was sleeping soundly, and the tension in the room had eased.
“He’ll make a full recovery,” I told Carlo, who lingered at the man’s side.
Carlo grinned. “Very impressive, Dottore.”
“Why do they keep calling me that?” I asked, brows furrowing. “What does it really mean?”
“It’s …” Carlo’s eyes tilted toward the ceiling as he thought. “A title of respect. It means they think you’re the doctor. The best one.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. Or how to respond to the weird little clench in my gut. Of course, I bristled at the very idea of being claimed by the Mafia, but some weird little part of me was almost … flattered?
“You’re even invited to the next family meeting,” Carlo informed me. “If you want to go.”
“You don’t have to go.” Aldo, of course, strode back into the room at the precise moment to decide my fate, control my destiny.
Naturally, I bristled at that, too. “Maybe I want to go.”
His perfect black brows curved upwards in a perfect arch. “Oh? And why is that?”
“Clearly, I’m part of this world now, whether I like it or not.” I crossed my arms, leveled him with an unblinking stare. “Might as well know what I’m up against.”
“The meetings can get … intense.” Aldo’s face was unreadable. “And this one was called by the Falcone family.”
I froze. “Aurora?”
Aldo’s jaw tightened, but he nodded. “Yeah.”
“I’ll go,” I said firmly.
“All right then,” Aldo replied. “Back to the car.”
The meeting was held in a church, of all places. People filled the pews, and for a moment, I almost wondered if I’d been mistaken on the meaning of the word “meeting”, until Aurora and an older woman that must have been her mother marched down the aisle like they owned the place.
Aldo and Carlo sat in the front row, while I tucked out of the way in the row behind them. Hoping to stay out of sight, though I was sure my presence had already been noted.
Aurora, certainly, held my gaze as she paraded to the altar in a breathtaking tailored suit. Her eyes slid to Aldo, and something in her face softened and hardened at once.
Determination and want, I realized. He was her goal, her mission, her purpose in life.
How very sad.
But when she spoke, her words were all smooth professionalism. Business, deals, charities … Mafia matters that quickly surpassed my knowledge of the family’s involvement.
When others around the room chimed in, I struggled to follow the rapid-fire discussion. The thinly veiled threats and occasional verbal barbs didn’t escape my notice, of course, but there was no arguing I was an outsider.
An outside who, for some reason, had been invited to the table.
When the meeting finally adjourned, I lingered in my seat to let the rest of the crowd disperse. But in the wake of the chattering, chittering, complaining family members, I realized my mistake.
Shit.
Too late to run now.
“Layla.” Aurora’s smooth, icy voice did nothing to mask her dislike as she slipped down the short set of stairs towards me. “How very nice to see you again.”
“Aurora.” I inclined my head in half a bow, but didn’t bother with any petty lies.
Aurora’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Dottore, hm? You’ve certainly made a grand entrance into the family.”
“Not my intention.” I offered her a tight smile in return. “Trust me.”
“Oh, no?” Aurora’s brows arched in clear disbelief. “I suppose Aldo’s respect is of no interest to you.”
As if she thought I might con my way in as a doctor to secure my place at Aldo’s side! But maybe that was all she’d ever known—that sort of people. That sort of life.
It really was sad.
“Believe it or not, Aurora,” I sighed. “My only goal is to protect my son.”
“Of course it is.” Aurora scoffed. “I believed that when his parentage was still a secret. But don’t think for a moment that you’re untouchable. Aldo and I have history, and I’m not done with him.”
I met her gaze steadily. “Believe me when I say, he’s all yours.”
Aurora’s expression flickered, a crack in her polished facade. “You don’t understand what it means to be part of this world. You think playing doctor, going to a few meetings, will protect your son? Bloodlines demand loyalty, whether you want them to or not.”
The words sent a cold shudder down my spine. “You believe that, don’t you?”
“Believe?” Aurora laughed, cold and cruel and inhuman. “Layla, I’ve lived it. All my life. As a woman in the Mafia, you produce, or you are shit. Never forget that.”
Truly, she was pitiable, and I was almost grateful to be able to see it.
For all her bravado, Aurora was a prisoner to her life, her birthright. Her desire to be with Aldo, to be wife of the don, to secure her place in the Mafia hierarchy, defined her entire existence.
And I suspected, it always had.
“Have you ever wanted anything else?” The words slipped quietly from my lips.
Aurora blinked, startled into silence.
“Have you ever dreamed of something outside of this,” I continued, “or is this all you’ve ever known?”
Aurora’s jaw tightened, and she turned on her heel without answering, her footsteps echoing in the empty hall.
