Not Mine to Keep: Chapter 8

“I need to make a call before we leave.” Standing inside the private hangar at the Nashville International Airport, I directed her to board without me, but she didn’t follow orders. Not that I was surprised.

“To whom? Gabriel again?” The distrust in her tone had me taking a second to remind myself she barely knew me, or anything about my family. She’d witnessed me kill three people and tie up another, and then my control nearly snapped and I almost begged her to let me fuck that sassy little mouth of hers. So I supposed she should be on guard around me.

“Calling my family. I need to let them know about this, uh, new job sooner than anticipated.”

She fidgeted with the buttons of her jean jacket, a sign her attitude was taking a back seat to her nerves. “And what will they say to all of this?”

I knew what Constantine would say, which was why he wouldn’t be on the call. But Enzo? The second he learned I’d be tying the knot he’d bust my balls. And Izzy would lecture me. Lay into me hard. Harder than I had when my brothers and I scared off her last asshole boyfriend, who went by the name “just Pablo”—just a mistake on her part, in my opinion.

Callie’s big eyes lifted my way as she waited for me to answer. She’d showered since the murder spree in the park. Then packed and unpacked her suitcase for Italy a half dozen times while we’d waited for the guard to be removed from her place by someone Gabriel trusted so we could leave.

In her leggings, tank top, and jean jacket, without any makeup and her hair still damp around her face, the woman looked way too fucking young for me. Hell, twenty-nine was still south of my preferred number.

Throw in the little music-note studs in her ears adding to her innocence, and I probably should’ve been considering tucking her in with a bedtime story on the jet instead of the spanking the dark part of my mind wanted to give her. Which was weird, because that was surprisingly not my thing. But something about this woman made my palm twitch.

She’d been right in her bedroom, though. I did usually have sex after fighting. But with this woman? Hell no. She gave new meaning to the term off-limits. I’d be keeping a safe distance from my wife once we were back in the US.

“Tongue-tied again,” she said, shattering thoughts of my handprint on her ass. “Guess you’re afraid to tell your family your assignment involves marrying the daughter of Armani DiMaggio.”

“Something like that.” I needed to cool off before I had to jerk off. “My mother’s going to have my head when she finds out. Old school. Not a fan of divorce.”

“Sounds like my aunt.” Her eyes went wide a beat later. “Shit. My aunt. What will I tell her?” Her hands flew in the air, and she began waving them around while talking. There’s that Italian in you. “She’s going to freak out. She’ll cancel her three-month see-the-world-on-a-cruise trip she’s saved up her entire life for and try and come save me. And I don’t want her going anywhere near that monster and—”

“She doesn’t need to know. Maybe we can be done with this before she’s even home. Okay?” I grabbed hold of her shoulder with my free hand.

So far, from what I could tell, there were two sides to this woman. Calm, collected, defiant, and unshakable at the sight of murder. And then there was this one—spiraling, panicked, wide-eyed, and rambling.

“Then we have until mid-August. That’s when she’ll be back in Nashville.”

Her breathing slowed a bit to a normal pace at my words, and her light-green eyes found mine.

I had to resist the urge to murmur, That’s a good girl. Just breathe for me. Relax. And there went my dick, ready to spring into action like a dog being offered a treat. What was wrong with me?

“August. Sounds like the perfect month for a divorce.” I forced a smile, even gave a little tooth with it, which was rare, hoping to keep her on the calm train.

“This is all . . .”

“Madness, I know,” I finished for her, thinking about what had gone down today. If I hadn’t shown up at her house before her walk, the woman would be dead. And I couldn’t allow myself to go to that dark place. The woman drove me nuts already, but the idea of anything happening to her was unacceptable.

Thankfully, she hadn’t given me pushback on flying to Italy, and Gabriel had managed to get a cleanup crew to the park before the bodies had been discovered. Armani’s people would work on interrogating the guard I’d tied up in her garage, to determine the truth.

In the meantime, I needed to convince my family to get on board with the plan, and then do something I sure as hell didn’t want to do—ask my old man to make a call to The League in Italy for an alliance with one of their enemies.

I preferred to handle everything myself, but since Dad was former League, he was now our best shot at recruiting their help while I stuck by Callie’s side to keep an eye on her.

“It’ll be okay.” I found myself attempting to reassure her when she went back to fidgeting with her buttons. I was two seconds away from helping her remove the jacket and shirt altogether if she didn’t stop.

“Sure,” she mumbled, then finally did as I’d asked and boarded the jet.

Once alone, I FaceTimed Enzo.

He picked up on the second ring, but when he answered, he had his daughter, Chiara, wrapped up in his arms. “What’s up? You okay?”

“I’m about to invite Izzy and Hudson to join the call. I’ll fill you in together,” I quickly explained.

“Not Constantine, too?” Enzo asked as I dialed in the others.

“No, not yet.” At the weird hitch in my voice, his wife must’ve clocked it, too, because she appeared on screen next to him.

Maria gave me a little nervous smile while taking Chiara, sensing the call wasn’t meant for my niece.

“Hey, stranger,” Izzy said, popping onto the call.

Hudson still hadn’t answered, which was strange since he was the only one clued in on the situation. But not even a second later, he appeared on camera—well, in the same frame as my sister.

“Why are you two together? And at her condo?” At least you’re not wearing his shirt or something. I’d probably blow a fucking gasket.

Hudson cursed under his breath while giving Izzy his signature scowl. When he returned his focus to the screen, he shared, “She stopped by my bar earlier, and I happened to be working on something for you in my office, and you know her, she’s curious. Snatched my laptop from me, and—”

“I made him talk,” Izzy cut him off. “Anyway, are you seriously getting married?”

“Wait, what?” Enzo had been chewing on something, and from the looks of it, he was now choking.

Maria appeared on camera, Chiara no longer in her arms, to slap his back.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Enzo promised, clutching his throat for a second. “Just shocked.”

“Marriage?” Maria asked, opting to stay on the call.

“He’s marrying Armani DiMaggio’s daughter this week.” Izzy bit the bullet for me, and I was going to knock Hudson out for cracking so easily when she’d pressed him for intel. The man had been a Navy SEAL and had withstood interrogation by the worst of the worst and had never given up shit, but all it took was my little sister to get him to talk.

Hudson grimaced, shooting me an apologetic look, reading my thoughts.

“And who’s Armani? And more importantly, who’s his daughter?” Maria asked, pointing her curious brown eyes at my brother.

“Consider him mafia royalty,” Enzo told her. “The king of the oldest criminal group still in existence in Sicily.” He faced the screen again. “But I thought when he died, there’d be no more living DiMaggios. Since when does he have a daughter? And what do you mean you’re marrying her?” Before he let me finish, he shook his head and cursed a few of the more colorful Italian words he reserved for situations such as these. Not that I’d ever thought this situation would happen to me.

Marriage. Fuck.

“Gabriel. This is Gabriel’s doing,” Enzo said, putting two and two together. “Why? How?” He turned to Maria, whispered something in her ear, and she left. He didn’t want her hearing more, and I didn’t blame him. He was always doing his best to keep his wife safely away from the darkness of our world.

“Armani found out last year that his lifelong mistress, Christie Anderson, has a daughter and that he’s the father. She’ll be thirty next month, and originally, he gave her until thirty-five to marry and produce an heir,” I revealed. “But he found out his lifespan isn’t what he hoped it’d be, and he’s lost his patience. He’s forcing her to marry this week.”

“And this involves you how?” Enzo was still the only one not in the know. Well, aside from Constantine. And I had to assume Izzy hadn’t told him anything, or he’d already have taken our other jet to fly straight to me.

“Because the man he’s going to force her to marry is Rocco Barone.” I let the words sink in the way I had for Hudson yesterday. Gave Enzo time to digest the news. “I’m going to convince Armani that I should marry his daughter instead. Make it worth his while. That’ll piss Rocco off, put a target on my head, and he’ll come for me. We’ll save her and get Rocco, and with any luck, his father. This is our chance to finish the only job we’ve ever not completed.”

Enzo closed his eyes, his breathing picking up, more curses falling from his lips.

“We need the help of The League to make this work, though,” I shared. “Promise a truce between The League and Armani’s organization if he allows me to marry his daughter.” I went over the rest of the plan next. Explaining how Callie would hand over the reins to Gabriel once her father died (prematurely at my hand while blaming some unlucky bastard-criminal for his murder) and then . . . I’d be free of the marriage.

“Constantine should know,” Enzo said in a determined tone, opening his eyes. “But once he does, he won’t let you do this, will he?”

“Right.” Guilt weighed me down about keeping secrets from Constantine, but it was for his own good. “Which is why he can’t know until I’m already married. And I need you to convince Dad of that. Can you do that for me?” I hated asking for Enzo’s help when he’d only found out last month his wife was pregnant with twins, but what choice did I have?

“I’ll fly to New York tonight. This conversation needs to happen in person,” Enzo agreed. “And then we should join you in Italy. We can’t let you go into Armani’s home without backup.”

“We have to make this work.” Failure’s not an option.

“For Constantine. To get Rocco.” Enzo nodded.

“And to save this girl’s life,” Izzy added. “From what Hudson told me, she’s an innocent. Not like her dad. So protecting her is also part of the job.”

Izzy balanced out the darkness in us. When we’d created our new security firm, we’d been reluctant for her to join. She went from managing billion-dollar brands to managing us during covert missions. But she’d been right to join. Having her in our ears on comms, as well as being our voice of reason from time to time so we didn’t go over the edge, was, well, nice.

I held the front of my throat, pinching at the skin there, thoughts drifting to Little Miss Tennessee Whiskey. “Keeping her safe is the main job, yes.”

“You . . . like her, don’t you?” Why was Izzy asking me that? Hell, whispering that in a state of shock.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I barely know her, and this is me we’re talking about.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Izzy lifted her brows a few times, clearly trying to fuck with me. “Wait until Mom finds out her forever bachelor son is getting married and plans to divorce by—”

“August,” I blurted. “That’s how long Callie will give me.” Plus, she had to go back to teaching in the fall, so the timeline made the most sense. “I only need to survive three months of marriage. Hell, it’s not even a full three months.” I gulped a bit too hard. “I can do this. I can give up my freedom for the summer.”

An unexpected soft chuckle left my sister’s lips. “Or maybe, just maybe, you’ll fall in love with your wife.”