The Vendetti Coward: Salvatore Vendetti (The Vendetti Famiglia Book 4) Page 2

  “What do I say? I don’t know how to do this, Vi. We don’t ask for help when it comes to this sort of thing. We just grin and bear it.”

  “And how has that been working for you over the years?” she retorts. “Not so well, huh?”

  I shrug. She’s right. Doesn’t mean I’m going to start opening up to my siblings on the regular, if ever.

  “Talk to Matteo privately. I know you seven do things as a famiglia, but this doesn’t concern any of your brothers, Salvatore. This is you doing what you need to do, so you can survive and take care of your child.”

  Alone wouldn’t be so bad. Matteo’s used to me failing, so what’s one more thing, right? Fuck, I could use a drink. My mind flashes to the withdrawals I had and I shudder. Nope, not worth it. I don’t need to escape, I need to face this head on and deal with it. One foot in front of the other. I can do this. “Should I go now? Do you know if he’s busy?”

  She beams, shooing me. “He’s never too busy for you, Sal. Your brother loves you. Go talk to him and let me get my niece cuddles in.”

  “Thanks, Violet.”

  “Of course. I’m here anytime you need me.”

  She truly is the Vendetti Queen.

  “You’re doing the best you can,” Matteo says after I tell him about the crying problem and the anxiety I’m having. “She’s a lot of responsibility. People don’t realize it until they have children of their own.”

  “I’m already a bad father.”

  He shakes his head. “I disagree. Each day you wake up and care for her, you love her. You’re sober. You’re already a good father to her. Being perfect doesn’t make you a decent parent. It’s showing up, giving them love, and providing them with what they need. It could be as simple as a hug, you never know.”

  It’s a bit shocking to hear him speak like he is. He’s a good fratello, but I see why he’s such a great dad. He’s ruthless when it comes to business, yet somehow turns it off for his daughter. I wish I could do the same. “I’m lost. I’m learning, but not fast enough it seems, when it comes to her.”

  “I think I have something in mind.” He shifts a few papers over on his desk, finding his planner. “Violet and I had been considering bringing on another nanny, and a distant cousin of ours was interested. I’ll touch base with her father and see if she’s still available.”

  My tense frame finally begins to relax a bit with his words. “Grazie. I can use the help.”

  “We’ll get it figured out. You’re looking good. You still feel okay otherwise?”

  “As well as can be expected, according to my sponsor.”

  “You’ll let me know if that changes?”

  I nod, even though I don’t want to. It’s embarrassing. My famiglia is right in the middle of my sobriety, but this is the way it has to be. If I don’t hold myself accountable with them, the deception can worm its way back in.

  Matteo stands, a smirk gracing his normally serious face. Coming to stand beside me, he claps my shoulder and squeezes affectionately. “I’m not used to you being so filled out. It suits you. I’m proud of you, Sal. Seriously, you’re doing it.”

  I clench my teeth and tilt my head, not allowing myself to get choked up at his words. Him being proud of me is the last thing I’d expect from any of my brothers. Coming from him, though, it means the most. “Taking it day by day.”

  “That’s all you can do. Care for your daughter and yourself. We’re here for you, fratello. We’re your famiglia.”

  “You’ll let me know what you find out about the girl?”

  “Si, of course. If she’s already spoken for, I’ll find another. Either way, we’ll get someone here and get this all worked out. You need anything else, let me know.” He draws me in for a quick hug. Violet has certainly pulled out a side of humanity my brother seemed to lack prior to her being in the picture. I’m grateful for it. He deserves to be happy, and by no means does it make him weak in any way. If anything, it’s the opposite. Matteo is obsessively protective where his famiglia is concerned.

  “Grazie,” I murmur again as Valentino strolls into Matteo’s office. It’s my cue to leave, as I don’t want my issues to become the famiglia’s topic of conversation again today. It seems like we discuss my shit every day. I’ve only been home a week, but seven days is plenty of time to go over my sobriety, my issues I’m facing, and my plan to get through it all. I understand they’re interested because they care, but it overwhelms me, dredging up my shortcomings.

  “Sal!” he exclaims.

  “Hey, Tino.”

  “How’s it going? Good day today?”

  Of course, it’s not a good day. This is still the beginning of my sobriety. I literally have to fight myself all fucking day to not give in and erase all the progress I’ve made over the past six and a half months.

  Matteo speaks up, “Of course it’s good. We’ve got famiglia.”

  “Si,” I easily agree.

  Valentino lightly punches me in my bicep, grinning. “It’s good to have you back, fratello. It wasn’t the same around here with you and Dante both gone.”

  “And Cris? Have you two settled whatever was going on between you two? It was getting tense for a while. Even I could sense it.”

  He releases a sigh, admitting, “I pushed him. I wanted to draw him out of his comfort zone, and when Arianna came into the picture, it was the perfect opportunity. I knew the bastardo loved her the moment I saw how he stared at her.”

  Matteo grumbles, “He’s a man in love, and still young. We’re fortunate he’s got his head on straight or he’d have shot you. The last thing we need to be doing is fighting amongst our famiglia. We have far too many enemies out there to not have each other’s backs at all times.”

  Valentino’s arms raise in surrender. “Hey, I get it now. He’s sensitive where she’s concerned.”

  “One day you’ll understand. At least I hope so,” Matteo responds.

  I meet my brother’s easygoing gaze. Valentino and I are in the same boat where love is concerned. It’s always been the furthest thing from our minds. Matteo and Cristiano, however, have that in common, both being hopelessly in love with their women. Not that they needed anything else to link them together. They’re probably closest to each other out of all of us as it is. I’m not bitter about it by any means, just a bit sad I suppose.

  Now that I’m sober, I can recognize the relationship Matteo and I have, and it’s not as tight knit as I’d like. You’d think since we’re close in age it’d be him and me always talking and working closely together, but that couldn’t happen since I was too busy running from everything. Even my youngest brother has more of a drive than I’ve ever possessed. It’s embarrassing.

  “You two have fun doing mob boss shit. I’ve got to get back to my daughter.”

  “Any name yet?” Valentino interrupts my departure.

  “No. I have one chance to name her and I don’t want to fuck it up.”

  “You wait much longer and she’ll think her name is neonata and bambina.” He’s not kidding. Matteo already had to pay off some people to get them to back the fuck off me about her legal documents. Luckily, we have half of New York’s finest at our disposal for whatever we may need. It’s one of the perks of belonging to an influential crime famiglia. People don’t want to die, so they do what we say. I’ll never get tired of that feeling of power, no matter how fucked up I let my senses become.

  “I’ll figure something out. I’ll catch up with you guys later. I need to get back upstairs. I don’t want to leave Vi up there for too long. I’m sure she’s got plenty on her own plate.”

  Matteo agrees. “Si. I’ve been allowing her to sit in on some meetings. I need her ready.”

  “Good, she can handle it,” I mutter before making the trek toward my wing.

  He that makes himself a sheep,

  shall be eaten by a wolf.

  - Italian Proverb

  “Annabella, come here, tesora.”

  “Yes, Papa?” I call, heading
for the den. We’ve lived here my entire life, and this room has remained the same for as long as I can remember. My mother is obsessed with Tuscany-inspired design, and our home reflects it. Bless her heart, my papa is full-blooded Italian, but she’s as American as they come. Not that she’s ever let it bother her. If anything, it’s the opposite. My mother has the biggest heart next to my father’s, and she’s embraced everything about Papa’s culture.

  “There you are, amore.” He flashes me a warm smile and reaches for my hand. I place mine in his palm and sit next to him on the sofa.

  “Everything all right?”

  “I heard from our cousin,” he says proudly.

  “Okay?”

  “Matteo Vendetti has decided to hire you for the nanny position. Isn’t that wonderful?”

  “What? Seriously?” My mouth gapes in surprise. I was stunned they considered me and called for an interview. I thought maybe it was just a curtesy extended, since we’re kind of related in a sense.

  “He said you’d fit in perfectly. The position is for his younger brother.”

  “Wait, Cristiano needs my help?” He’s younger than I am and already married with a baby. Not that I’m judging. If anything, I’m jealous.

  “No, Salvatore, the second.”

  I gulp. Anything I know about Salvatore isn’t good. I mean, news rarely is when it comes to the Vendettis of New York, but they’re so far down the line, I doubt they even deem us as relatives. I think we’re like sixth or seventh cousins, if even that. From stories I’ve heard, I’m considered even less of family since my mother is American. My ancestors are serious freaks about their pure bloodlines and whatnot. My father was practically disowned when he fell in love with my mom.

  “He had a baby as well? I-I didn’t know,” I murmur more to myself, distracted as I scan through past conversations in case I missed something. I can’t for the life of me remember anyone mentioning another baby in the family, and those types of things are important to Italians. We love family and weddings, any excuse to get together and celebrate really.

  “He needs your help, and there’s no one better for the job than my Annabella.”

  I shrug my shoulder, biting into my cheek. I’m sure there are plenty of people far more qualified than I am. I won’t turn down the work though. I’m twenty-three and still living at home with my parents. This could be exactly what I need to get out of their house and into my own. Papa expects me to live here until I’m married, but this isn’t Italy in 1850. A man isn’t going to come around calling, to court and propose marriage, not that my papa would approve of such a method. Marriage doesn’t work like that anymore, although it sounds like times were a bit easier back then.

  “Annabella, it’s an honor to be called on by the famiglia.”

  I offer a nod, following it up with a whispered, “They’re dangerous, Papa.” Even I know as much, and I hardly pay any attention to them.

  “They would never hurt their own. No matter how far down the line we are, they’d allow no harm to come to you, tesora.”

  We’ll have to agree to disagree on that one. While I don’t think they’d intentionally hurt me, I’m not foolish enough to believe I wouldn’t be chopped liver when it comes to their immediate family. It’s too late to back out now. I’m certain my father has already agreed to the position for me. I don’t know what spurred me on in the first place to interview for a nanny position. Perhaps it was the excitement in Papa’s intonation when he told me they were looking for someone, who knows. It’s been a while since I met Violet and Matteo to speak about the position. I’d assumed they’d found someone else. Apparently, I was still on their minds, since they offered me to help with Salvatore’s child.

  “How old is the baby? Boy or girl?”

  My father grunts, digging around the side table for one of his cigars. He grabs the smelly thing, cuts the tip, then puts it to his mouth. He flips open his zippo, sucking deeply to light it. “I wasn’t expecting his call, so I didn’t think to ask.”

  My mother loudly calls from the other room, “Are you smoking inside again?”

  “Nah!” my father yells, raising his eyebrows at me with a conspiratorial glance.

  “She knows you’re lying.”

  “Shush, you. Shouldn’t you be busy packing, being an excited girl?”

  “I’m twenty-three, hardly a girl anymore.”

  He smiles around his cigar. I can hear my mother talking to herself, saying that she can smell smoke. He used to wait until she’d be at the store or something, but he’s getting braver, whipping the cigar out while she’s in the other room.

  “And why would I need to pack? Are you finally kicking me out?”

  “Hm. You don’t know?” His grin drops. “It’s a live-in position. You discussed this at the interview before, no?” He sets his cigar down, his curiosity now more prevalent than his beloved smokes.

  “Well no, we didn’t. For Matteo and Violet, the job was only going to be part-time help. I take it this one is full-time if I’m moving in.”

  His smile’s back in a flash. “Si, mia signorina living at the Vendetti Estate…” he says wistfully, and his irises have a far-off look. My papa misses his family, and my heart hurts that he can’t be as close with them as he wishes.

  I jump to my feet and pop a kiss on his cheek. “I’m going to start getting my stuff together. Put that out before Mom comes in here and loses it.”

  “Bah.” He waves me off and reaches for the TV remote.

  I head for the stairs. The house has three bedrooms and they’re all upstairs, along with two bathrooms. There were never any crazy nights sneaking out or whatever for me, since my parents’ bedroom was only two doors down from mine. Not that I ever imagined doing anything of the sort as a teen. I was too busy studying and being a good girl. I’m not complaining. It kept me safe and probably saved me from a lot of stress and possible heartache.

  I wonder how long I’m going to be staying at the estate? I know Papa heard the initial, ‘she’s hired’ and thought of nothing else. Typical from him when he gets enthusiastic about something. Will I be coming home on the weekends? I probably won’t live in the main house. I’m fairly sure their staff lives away from them. This is exciting but overwhelming in the same aspect.

  What I know of Salvatore isn’t remarkable in the slightest. Rumors say he’s the family drunk and has gone unhinged at times. I don’t know what that means exactly, but one can speculate. He’s nearly ten years my senior, which in Italian families means little when you’re an unmarried adult. At least, I think he’s not married. Perhaps that was just as much of a secret as this new baby appears to be.

  “Will you be taking everything, Anna? This house won’t feel the same with you gone. It’s college all over again.”

  I flash an amused smile towards the doorway. My mother leans against the frame, watching me with pride in her gaze. “I went to community college and lived at home,” I retort dryly, and she cracks a grin.

  “You know what I mean. You were gone all the time.”

  “Mom, I was in class. It’s literally been the same since I was five.”

  She shrugs, “No, sweetie. When you were five, I knew you’d miss me all day. When you went to college, I knew home would be the last thing on your mind…and now, well, you’re in for an adventure. I’m sure you’re excited. Just don’t blame me if I’m a little teary.”

  Walking to her, I pause to wrap her in my arms. My mom’s tall, my dad’s short, and of course, I got the short stick as well. Mom’s this lithe, graceful woman, and I’m left barely hitting five foot one. “I’ll always miss you, no matter how old I am, or where I go. I love you.”

  “Love you too, my girl. You’ve grown into such an intelligent, kind woman. I’m proud of you.”

  My stomach squeezes at her words. I love hearing that I make my parents proud, and they’ve never been quiet about letting me know it. “Thanks, Mom,” I reply and release her, stepping back to my empty suitcase laying open on
my bed. “I don’t know what to pack, what I should wear.”

  “Luckily, I can help you out. Firstly, let’s start with your pepper spray.”

  I let out a snort and enjoy every moment of her fussing around my room. I don’t know what it is, but something in my gut tells me this is the last day I’ll be living at my parents’ home. With the future up in the air and my life changing, I’m thrilled but also want to puke.

  “This is it, tesora.”

  I glance up at the massive mansion. It’s bigger than any house I’ve ever seen in person before. We’d driven by it when I was younger, and again I came here to interview, but it seems entirely more intimidating this time around. With summer nearly over, the grounds are filled with beautiful, colorful landscape. I can only imagine how it must look with a fresh, undisturbed dusting of snow. I bet it’s a castle right out of a storybook, one filled to the brim with antiheroes. Not that I have any right to turn my nose up at these people. They’re filthy rich and extended family, even if we’re so far down the line it doesn’t count to them.

  Matteo, his wife Violet, and Salvatore meet us outside as Papa and I climb out of the car. With a welcome smirk, the Capo extends his hand to my father. Violet is warm, as she pulls me in for a hug. I have a feeling if we weren’t the extended bloodline, we’d be welcomed far differently. I glance towards Salvatore, but his expression is blank. His handsome features are stony, and although it’s been years since I last saw him, he’s far more handsome now. For being the rumored drunk, he looks stone-cold sober right now.

  “Capo,” my father acknowledges warmly with a dip of his head. “I’m honored you’ve chosen mia signorina to help your famiglia. She’s a smart one. She’ll be an asset, I assure you.” He turns to Violet and says hello politely then nods to Salvatore. “Grazie, for having Annabella.”

  “Annabella?” Salvatore softly asks, his stare falling to me.

  My father beams, obviously reading too much into it all. With a chin movement from Matteo, a big man steps forward, reaching for my duffle bag and purse. I was searched the last time I was here, so I was kind of expecting this. Violet says, “He’ll put your things in your suite.”