Endings & Beginnings (New Mafia Trilogy #3) Read online

  She sniffed and lifted her head, wiping away the glistening trails from her cheeks before meeting my eyes. “I know it was wrong, but I blamed you for your father leaving us even though you’re blameless.”

  I was stunned, not by her admission, but by the emotional mess of a woman sitting next to me. The cold stoniness I had grown up with was gone. She didn’t stop talking and the words spilled out. I just sat there and absorbed everything. She told me how my dad threatened to leave long before I was even conceived. Only when my mom found out she was pregnant with me, did things settle down. Apparently my mom struggled with severe post-partum depression and this made my dad stay longer to take care of us.

  “My moods drove him away. I see that now, but at the time you were supposed to be the saving grace for our marriage, his reason to stay. So when he walked out on us…”

  “You blamed me.”

  She nodded and hung her head again, too ashamed to look at me.

  “Jesus Mom, I was five years old!” I started to yell, all the years of resentment surging forth, but my rage dried up on my lips when she recoiled like I slapped her and instead of satisfaction, I felt guilty for lashing out. “Shit, mom, I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize, Natalie. Your anger is valid. I know I can’t erase what happened and I missed out on so much. Then you left me too.”

  This comment caught me off guard and I exhaled sharply. “I’m not like him.”

  “No, you’re not. Grant isn’t either. Thank God.” She gave me a shy smile, coaxing one from me. “Care to tell me why you ran away? Was it Dominic?”

  I shook my head and then sighed. “It wasn’t Dominic. Things were intense and I needed a break.”

  She didn’t say anything and I could feel her weighted gaze as she watched me. “Are you going to stay in California?”

  “I don’t know.”

  We went to our separate rooms in the suite soon after. I was emotionally tapped out and ready for some solitude, especially so I could process my mom’s confession. She was trying to make amends and that was a start. I called Chelsea to let her know I had arrived safely and fill her in on everything, but I got her voicemail. Remembering, as the phone was ringing, that she was having dinner with Derek’s parents, I left her a brief message.

  Then I took a quick shower, rinsing the day’s travel from my skin, before crawling into bed only to stare at the ceiling. While it was close to midnight, my body was on Pacific-time and nowhere ready for sleep. My mind kept going over the conversation with my mom. I wanted to forgive her and wanted a close relationship with her, but was afraid. Afraid of her recent changes only being temporary and getting hurt all over again. Grant had already seemed to have accepted her so did that mean I should too? With a sigh, I got up and drew the vertical blinds plus the heavy drapes closed, blocking out the city lights and shrouding my room in darkness. Using the display light from my phone that was charging on the bedside table as a guide, I climbed back into bed. After some meditative breathing exercises that Chelsea had taught me to help with my panic attacks, I finally managed to fall asleep.

  That night I thought for sure nightmares would return since I was back in Philadelphia, but they didn’t. Instead I dreamt of Dominic and the last time we made love before we were both shot. He used to wake me up by drawing lazy circles down my bare back, applying slightly more pressure as he moved closer to my ass. This particular morning, the sun streamed in through the window that practically ran the entire length of our bedroom. Grumbling, I squirmed underneath his touch and burrowed my head deeper in the pillow to block out the sunlight. His husky chuckle rumbled in his chest as his fingers slipped beneath the sheet, exploring lower. I parted my legs slightly, giving him access and he took full advantage, sliding a finger inside. I moaned and moved my hips with his rhythm, which grew steadily faster until I was bucking against his hand. He added another finger and the increased fullness sent me over the edge with a cry. Rolling over onto my back, fully awake, I ran my fingers through Dom’s thick hair and pulled him towards me, lowering his lips to mine. He came willingly and settled his hips between my thighs. Our kiss started out soft and sweet, our tongues moving against each other in a slow dance. Dominic ground his erection against me and I deepened the kiss, moaning into his mouth. He nipped at my lower lip then sucked on it, hard. Thrusting my hips up I moved against him, causing him to release my lip which quivered and tingled as blood rushed back into place.

  Dominic hovered above; caging me between his muscular arms and I loved being surrounded by him. I had mussed his black hair and it hung over his forehead, framing his eyes that were now a darker green as he stared at me. God, he was beautiful and I couldn’t believe he was mine.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

  I moved along his erection again. “Yeah, I do.” He laughed and kissed me, tracing a trail along my jawline and down my neck to my breasts, his stubble scratching against my skin. He latched onto a nipple with the same intensity as my lip. The contrast between tender and rough sent a ripple of goose bumps across my body and left me breathless. Spreading my legs wider, I arched against him, inviting him to enter. Cupping my ass he pulled me closer and pushed inside with one hard thrust. Dominic gave me a few seconds to adjust before he started to move. I threw my head back and held on, savoring the weight of his body on mine, breathing in a hint of spice from his cologne as he began to sweat.

  “I love you,” I gasped, on the precipice of an orgasm.

  At that moment the sunlight exploded super bright, distracting me and I woke with a jerk to a strange metallic sound.

  “Wake up, Natalie. We need to leave in an hour.” My mom’s voice cut through the disorientation and I blinked, seeing her silhouette over by window. That explained the sound; it was the rungs from the drapes racing along the rod. Then I realized my hand was down my pajamas and I had been playing with myself during the dream. Horrified, I yanked my hand free, praying that she didn’t witness.

  “You look flushed, Natalie, are you feeling okay?” she asked and I felt my cheeks flare even hotter.

  “I’m fine, Mom,” I said and kicked the covers free, “Just too many blankets.” I made a quick escape to the bathroom. The remnants of the dream lingered, leaving me feeling unsatisfied since I was robbed of any release. Masturbating to finish it off was out of the question since my mom was in the next room, so I settled on a cold shower, which left me even more out of sorts. The idea of spending the day getting fitted for a bridesmaid dress held zero appeal. It wasn’t just being left horny that had me on edge, but my subconscious had revealed the truth I’d tried to suppress: I still loved Dominic.

  ***

  While the morning may have gotten off to an awkward start by the time I had coffee and a bagel, that my mom had waiting for me when I came out of my room, my mood had improved. We took a cab into the heart of South Philly to the bridal shop run by someone in the Grabano family. I was surprised when the cab stopped in front of a cute boutique on the corner. Brown awnings with pale blue stripes stretched out over the storefront windows where gowns worthy of Vogue magazine were on display. Across the street was an upscale coffee shop with bistro tables on the sidewalk. As soon as my mom and I stepped out of the cab, the door to the bridal shop burst open and Miranda came rushing out with her arms wide open.

  “You’re here!” She said and wrapped her arms around me in a crushing hug on the same level as Chelsea’s. If my best friend wasn’t clear across the country, I’d suspect she’d been giving lessons.

  Miranda released me and gave my mom a less enthusiastic hug, but it was a hug, something I wasn’t used to seeing mom give or receive. My future sister-in-law took a step back with a big smile. She was radiant. Her skin had a healthy golden glow and her hair looked even thicker and glossier than usual. The bride-to-be/expectant mother combo sure had its aesthetic advantages.

  “You look fantastic!” I said which made her beam even brighter.
/>   “Come on, I can’t wait to see the dress on you.” Miranda grabbed my hand and pulled me into the store.

  “The neighborhood looks different than I remember – it’s not that ghetto anymore,” I remarked.

  “That would be Dom’s doing. He’s been helping fund some community improvements. Giving back, ya know?” Miranda said.

  “Oh, really?”

  Miranda nodded and released my hand once we were inside the store and I had to stop to take it all in. Lace, tulle, and satin gowns lined the walls all around. This was my idea of a padded room and Chelsea would be in heaven. Six plush, pristine white chairs formed a half circle facing a small platform that was strategically placed in front of a large, three sided mirror; the spot where the bride-to-be could model for her entourage.

  A woman in a black dress came rushing out from a back room with a silver tray of champagne flutes in her hand. Her dark hair was short in a pixie-cut style that accentuated her graceful, long neck.

  “Mimosa or plain orange juice?” the woman asked me.

  “Mimosa, please.”

  With a dramatic flourish, she handed me a flute. My mom and Miranda both asked for plain orange juice. I took a few seconds to see if Miranda was showing yet. At fourteen weeks she had a tiny bump for the most part her stomach was flat.

  I heard the door open behind us and turned to see Allegra, Bianca, and Miranda’s mom, Paulina walking in.

  “Rand, honey, sorry I’m late! Nick wouldn’t leave me alone this morning,” her mom said with a giggle before rushing over to pull Miranda into a hug. I didn’t miss the look of disgust that briefly flashed across Miranda’s face when her mom explained why she was late. It made me wonder who Nick was. When Bianca, Dom and Miranda’s cousin, saw me she squealed and gave me a fierce hug. She was still as cute as ever and had added bold blonde highlights to her dark hair.

  “I’ve missed you! So has Dom,” she whispered this last part in my ear before releasing me.

  “It’s good to see you B. How’s school?”

  “I love college now! I just finished finals so I’m officially done my freshman year.” When I left for Los Angeles, Bianca was just starting at Temple University and having a hard time adjusting to campus life. She was a commuter student and lived at home, so trying to find her place was a struggle.

  “I take it things got better?”

  “They did. How about you, Dom said you’re living in L.A.? I bet that’s so sick.”

  “You’re staying out there, right?” Allegra interjected. Her arms were crossed over her chest and she wore a guarded expression. I wasn’t sure what that was about. While we used to work together at Crimson, we were never particularly close. The tall and leggy cocktail waitress was instrumental in Marco’s demise which placed her in the category of friend, not foe, so I didn’t know why she seemed so concerned about where I lived.

  I gave her the same neutral, non-committal response I gave my mom. “Huh,” she said with a frown and wandered off to look at a row of wedding dresses.

  “What was that all about?” I asked Bianca. She sighed before answering.

  “She’s been making a play for Dom, but he doesn’t want to have anything to do with her - with anyone for that matter.”

  The very idea of Allegra and Dom together triggered a flare of jealousy. By rights I didn’t hold a claim on Dom anymore. I broke up with him and lived across the country. Between the intense dream and knowing Allegra was circling around Dom like a cat in heat, my emotions were on high alert. Hearing from Bianca that Dom wasn’t interested helped quell the jealousy, but only a little bit.

  “I knew it!” Bianca burst out.

  “What?”

  “That look on your face just then said it all. You still have feelings for Dom. You guys belong together I hope you can work things out.”

  Fortunately my mom walked over at that moment before I could respond to Bianca. She had a black dress draped over her left arm. “Here you go, Natalie, ready for the fitting?”

  “Thanks, Mom,” I said. Setting the half empty champagne flute on a small table, I took the dress from her. She followed me to the fitting rooms and sat down on one of the upholstered ottomans in a little alcove area right outside. I stepped inside one of the empty rooms and hung the dress up on a hook. It was a classic strapless knee length with a cream sash around the empire waist that matched Miranda’s gown. The skirt was made up of soft, flowing layers. I quickly stripped out of my jeans and t-shirt and slipped the dress on. It was a little loose around the bust, but at least it wasn’t tight. I twirled in front of the mirror and frowned at how the scar on my shoulder from my bullet wound stood out; the tissue was raised and puckered, slightly darker than the rest of my skin. It was a lot smaller and less noticeable than it used to be, but still obvious. There was nothing I could do about that.

  “Natalie, let me see,” my mom called from the other side of the door and I jumped, having forgotten she was out there. It was such a strange experience to be doing girlie things like this with her. Back in high school, I went with Chelsea and her mom to the mall when it came time for us to shop for prom dresses.

  Taking a deep breath, I emerged from the fitting room and met her appraising gaze. She took in the dress and gasped, her eyes misting up. “Oh, Natalie, you look beautiful!”

  I wasn’t used to receiving compliments from her and definitely not prepared for her emotional response. I blushed at her approval and twirled around, just like when I was four and showing off the tutu I’d been given as a birthday present.

  “What is that?” she asked, stepping closer.

  “What?” I glanced down to see what she was looking at and realized she had noticed the scar.

  Her fingertips brushed over the raised skin by my collarbone and then slipped over to my back, to the matching scar right above my shoulder blade where the bullet had exited my body. I closed my eyes and held my breath willing the memories that were surfacing to go away. My mom’s cool touch reminded me of Dr. Russo, the mob doc’s, fingers when he assessed and treated my injury. While it wasn’t painful, the sensation was all it took to trigger the flood of memories; the metallic smell of blood that filled Dominic’s Mustang as I drove to get us help and the punch of bullets drilling into the side of the car, glass raining down on us and then the worst memory of all, the dead stare of the man I killed.

  “It’s nothing,” I said, backing away from her touch on shaky legs.

  “Doesn’t look like nothing,” she said and pursed her lips; the frown I was familiar with was back in place. We stared at each other, uncomfortable silence filling the gap between us. Beads of sweat dripped down my spine, collecting in the small of my back. “Natalie,” she began in her disappointed tone.

  “Don’t, Mom!” I hissed and ran into the fitting room, wishing it had a lock on the doorknob, but it didn’t. “Shit,” I muttered and pressed my forehead against the cool wall, trying to get my breathing under control, inhaling and exhaling until the trembling stopped and my heartbeat stopped pounding in my ears. I had really overreacted and that would only feed her suspicions. It had been a few months since I’d had a panic attack and I was left feeling clammy, nauseated and exhausted. There was a light knock on the door before it opened. Bracing for my mom to peek her head in, I was relieved to see Miranda.

  “Hey, are you okay?” she asked and slipped inside, closing the door behind her. She was wearing her veil, but still had on her jeans and a fitted button down shirt.

  “Yeah, I just had a moment. I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “Making a scene when it’s supposed to be about you.”

  “Pfffffttt,” she said, tossing her hand in the air. “Don’t worry about it. Now, do you want to tell me what’s wrong? And don’t tell me nothing like you told your mom. You’re about ten shades lighter than pale.”

  I shrugged and pointed at the scar. “I panicked and didn’t know what to say when she asked about this.”

  “Oh. Well, what
have you told other people?”

  “In L.A., I told that guy Jason I was seeing that I fell off my bike and landed on exposed rebar.”

  “That’s a good story.”

  “Yeah, but don’t you think that an accident of that scale is something a mom would know about? I was still on her insurance when it happened.”

  “Tell her it happened in California when you were out of touch. You have to tell her something or she won’t let it drop.”

  Miranda was right and telling my mom the truth wasn’t an option. “You look smoking hot in that dress, by the way,” Miranda said with a smile. “Let’s get back out there so my cousin can see where it needs to be taken in.”

  We left the fitting room to join the others in the main part of the store. Allegra was up on the platform getting fitted. Apparently she had the opposite problem than me and her dress needed to be let out at the bust. Picking up my abandoned mimosa, I went to stand next to my mom.

  “I’m sorry, Mom, it’s just that I’m a little sensitive about the scar.”

  “I’m sorry too and it’s okay if you don’t tell me what happened. I know I haven’t exactly earned your trust to be one of your confidants.” Surprised, I looked up and met her gaze. Her brown eyes had softened and she reached up to tuck a stray hair behind my ear. “Hopefully we can get there someday?”

  “I’d like that,” I said, knowing full well that she would never know everything. There are some things you just can’t tell your mother, especially about your involvement in organized crime and murder.

  Our conversation was interrupted when Miranda stepped out in her wedding gown and we all seemed to gasp at the same time. The ivory dress was a strapless mermaid style that hugged her curves then flared out mid-thigh in layers of organza that brushed the floor. A black belt trimmed in gray cinched the waist and when Miranda turned around, I saw that it turned more into a ribbon and draped down the back along the layers that fanned out. Miranda was a sight to behold with her glowing olive skin and dark hair spilling down past her shoulders.