Fidelity (Infidelity #5)(52)

Momma’s eyes were closed. One hand was near her neck while the other was on the table, encased in Oren’s.

“You don’t have to talk to anyone you don’t want to,” Oren confirmed.

Her neck straightened. “I do and I will. Just not now.”

“When you’re ready, amore mio.” He searched her expression, his eyes narrowing. “Do you want to go back upstairs? Is this too much?”

Momma’s head moved back and forth.

“Shall we move on to the will?” Deloris asked.

Heavy footsteps approached. “Mr. Demetri.”

“Yes?” Oren and Nox answered in unison.

I reached for Nox’s hand, unsure who the man was who’d entered the dining room.

He was tall and dressed similarly to Isaac with a nondescript dark suit. “Sirs, there’s a guest who demands your presence.”

Oren stood. “I said no one was to be allowed on the property.” His eyes flickered to Deloris. “No one not already approved.”

“Sir, it’s—”

It was then the voices came from the front of the house. I didn’t know who it was but the man’s Brooklyn accent was thicker than Oren’s.





“EXPLAIN WHY YOU’RE here in this house!”

Who was he speaking to?

The voice bellowed from the front of the house like baritone thunder. Each rumble brought back a memory. With Adelaide right in front of me, the most prevalent recollection turned my stomach, taking me back to a bar in California. I purposely avoided Alexandria’s stare. Her red hair wasn’t as copper as her father’s, but her damn eyes were his.

Even without visual confirmation, Vincent’s image danced through my mind, a slideshow commemorating the years. I recalled the accompanying glare, the bulging veins protruding from his wide neck, and the color that filled his cheeks.

As a younger man, Vincent Costello had been the voice of reason. His influence while his father Carmine was alive and immediately following his father’s death, was instrumental. He understood the changing world and climate. His visions worked to move the family forward, evolving as technology advanced and recognizing the importance of legitimate investments. He’d ensured not only the survival of the Costellos but also the continued dominance of the family.

Time and power had a way of clouding what was once clear. Though I hadn’t been directly involved with the Costellos for years, the ties were never fully severed. With both the role of family leader and time, he’d changed. That was evident the night he’d almost sentenced both of our sons to death, but from what I’d heard, it wasn’t the only time his decisions were impulsive.

Arrogant was a term often whispered in the darkest of corners. No one dared say it aloud or to his face.

From what I’d heard, everyone was watching and waiting for the time Luca assumed his father’s role. No one questioned Luca’s birthright. He’d paid his dues, some of them to the federal penitentiary. But like many before him, nothing stuck. His incarcerations were short. Even from behind the walls, Luca retained his position as underboss.

Things had quieted in the recent past. Legitimate businesses comprised the main revenue stream. However, it was Vincent’s boisterous temper and growing waistline that caused many to project that the transition of power could happen sooner rather than later.

“Tell me,” Vincent Costello demanded.

“I’m here to help,” Eva replied.

My eyes met Lennox’s as we both jumped to our feet heading straight to the pocket doors closest to the entry and quietly enclosing the dining room. Though we couldn’t see the people in the foyer, we could hear them, loud and clear. I eyed the other two doorframes before turning to the guard. “You let him in?”

“Sir, he insisted.”

My jaw clenched as Vincent’s voice continued to boom, each phrase as loud as the last, oblivious to listening ears. Then again, perhaps it wasn’t that he was unmindful, but rather that he didn’t care. I turned to Lennox. “Get them all upstairs.” I motioned toward Adelaide. “She’s tired and can’t manage the stairs without help.”

“I’m fine. I can,” Adelaide countered. “What’s—”

“Is that Vince—” Lennox asked interrupting Adelaide.

“As soon as I distract him—them,” I said, “I want everyone upstairs.”

“You’re not facing him alone.”

“I am,” I contested. “After all, I’m the one who called him.”

“What? You called him? Why?” my son asked, eyeing the people at the table. “You did it for them.”

It hadn’t been a question, but I nodded in return.

“Then it’s my responsibility,” Lennox said.

“No. I called. I’ll talk to him.”

The only thing on my mind was keeping Vincent Costello away from Adelaide Montague. The history was too real. Adelaide didn’t know it, but Vincent would. He’d connect the dots and I couldn’t predict his reaction.

Once a job was done, it was done.

What would he say or do if he knew that I’d pursued the wife of my first job?

It wasn’t a confrontation I wanted to experience. As my pulse raced, my only goal was getting Adelaide Montague, the widow of Russell Collins and daughter of old man Montague, upstairs and away from Vincent. If I could sweep her from the chair and carry her upstairs myself, I would. Unfortunately the path would take us straight to Vincent.