Made (18 page)

It didn't matter how many people were there or what he had to do to stop it… that boy was never going to touch her again.

Corrado took a few steps in their direction, grasping his gun when someone called his name. The sound of it stalled him. His senses cleared long enough for him to realize what he was doing. He turned toward the voice, seeing Vincent standing a few feet away. He regarded Corrado suspiciously, his gaze shifting to his hand before his eyes darted toward the car his sister sat in.

"Did my father send you?" Vincent asked, panicked. "Why are you here?"

"Shouldn't I ask you that?" Corrado asked, deflecting. "Aren't you a little young to be out at this time?"

Vincent narrowed his eyes, his cheeks flushing. "I'm not much younger than you. I'm sixteen now."

Sixteen. "Well, does your father know you're here?"

"Does he know you're here, Corrado?"

Corrado stared at him as that question sunk in. Vincent raised his eyebrows, a smirk tugging the corner of his lips. He knew he had him. He could be a cocky little punk when he wanted to be.

"Go home," Corrado said, "
before
I decide to tell your father."

"You, too," Vincent said, taking a few steps back. "And for the record, I don't like that boy either, but I don't think killing him is going to help. It might make her mad. If you like my sister, just ask her out. At least it would be less messy... I think, anyway."

Corrado watched as Vincent walked away before glancing back at the car. Celia had pulled away from the boy and sat straight in her seat, her attention focused on the movie. The ache in his chest lessened, a bit of relief washing through him.

Was that what he wanted?
To date her?

Corrado stood along the street near the high school, leaning back against his parked car with his arms crossed over his chest. It was a warm, cloudless afternoon. He was sweating profusely from the strong sunshine.

Classes had just let out and students swarmed the streets. It was a Friday, and he could hear their excitement about the weekend. They were deep in conversation about things he knew little about, like games and parties and dates.

Dates. He suspected he started sweating more at that word.

Girls strolled by, wearing skimpy clothing. Some of the guys were already going shirtless, relishing in the sun, and there he stood, dressed as usual—plain black fitted suit, black tie, and black polished shoes. Usually he fit in with his clothes, falling into the background, but now he stuck out like a sore thumb.

At least, he was pretty sure he did, considering the looks he kept getting from the students.

Everyone blended together in a sea of people. He was reconsidering his idea when the sound of familiar laughter reached his ears. He turned in the direction it came from, stunned when he saw her. She wore a pair of extremely short shorts and a flimsy white tank top, cut short to show her navel, the material so thin her black bra shined through.

Corrado was equal parts awestruck, aroused, and downright horrified. Did her father know she went into public like
that
?

When she glanced in his direction and caught his eye, he suspected Antonio didn't. She looked ashamed. Nervous. Petrified. "Corrado? What are you doing here?"

Suddenly, he was nervous, too. "I needed to speak with you."

"Is something wrong? Did something happen? Oh God, it isn't Daddy, is it?"

He realized how his imposing presence must have seemed, like he came to deliver bad news.

This wasn't going as planned.

"Your father's fine," he said, reassuring her. "It's nothing bad."

"Oh." She relaxed, and he wondered if maybe he shouldn't have said that. What if she thought it
was
a bad thing? "So, what's up?"

"I just wondered if you'd like to do something."

Her brow furrowed. "What?"

What?
He hadn't figured that out yet.

"Just something," he said, "with me."

"With you? Like what?"

"Anything. But if you would rather not, I understand. I wanted to ask you before I went to your father for his blessing. I didn't want to presume..."

"Blessing for what?" The moment she asked, her eyes widened. "You mean do something, like,
together
?"

"Yes."

"Corrado Moretti, are you asking me out on a
date
?"

The word came from her lips as a squeal. He nodded hesitantly, unsure of her reaction. Was she sweating at the word, too? "Yes, I'd like to take you on one of those."

He held his breath as he waited for her to respond. He figured she'd have to think about it. He even prepared himself for an outright denial. But what he hadn't expected was for her to laugh.

"You know it's unnecessary to ask my dad, right? I mean, it's really sweet, but I'm eighteen. I'm an adult now. We don't need his permission."

She may not have needed his permission, but Corrado did. One of the most important rules in their world—you don't mess with a made man's family, especially the Boss's.

Without his blessing, Corrado would be violating a
La Cosa
Nosta
commandment, and their God wasn't very forgiving. No Hail Mary's would save him from His wrath.

"So is it a 'no'?"

"No."

"Okay," he said. "I'll let you go on your way."

He turned away, but she grabbed a hold of his arm to stop him. "I said 'no', as in it wasn't a 'no'. That means it's a 'yes'."

"Oh." He gaped at her. Yes? "Would you, uh… like a ride home?"

"Sure."

"This was nice of you," Celia said as they parked in front of her house. "Thanks."

"Thank
you
," he replied, cutting the engine of the car.

He opened his door to walk her inside, but she grabbed his arm. "Not yet."

"Something wrong?"

"No. Well, yes." She glanced down at herself and groaned. "Daddy's home. He's going to be pissed about my clothes. I'm not ready to deal with him yet."

Corrado had been right. "I thought you were an adult? You don't need his permission."

She narrowed her eyes. "You think you're funny, don't you? You know how he feels about appearances. 'No daughter of mine will look like a streetwalker'."

Corrado smiled at her feeble attempt at an impression. "How did you get out of the house this morning?"

"He was still asleep, so it wasn't hard."

"Next time take a spare set of clothes along with you."

"Wow, you're pretty good at this being sneaky thing."

"Yeah, it sort of comes along with the job."

"Do you like it?" she asked. "Your job, I mean?"

It was the first time anyone had asked him such a thing. Did he
like
it? "I like that it keeps me busy."

She laughed. "You sound like an old man with a nine-to-five office job. You're only eighteen. Live a little. Take some risks. Break some rules."

"I take risks and break rules every day."

"You do what you're told to do, Corrado. You follow orders. I'm not taking about breaking the law; I'm talking about breaking your
own
rules. Step out of your comfort zone."

"I did." He started to get defensive. "I asked you out."

"Yeah, and it took you long enough. We've known each other for years. You're slower than a turtle. At this rate, you won't have the guts to actually follow through until I'm already married."

The mere mention of her marrying someone made his heart race again. He clenched his hands into fists. "You're wrong."

"I'm always right," she said. "I told you to get used to it."

"Yeah, well, you're wrong this time. I don't just do what people want me to do."

"Prove it to me," she said, her expression serious.

He wasn't going to back down from her. Climbing out, he walked around to her side to help her out of the car. "Come on."

"What are we doing?" she asked, panic in her voice.

"Bending rules."

He reached the front door and shoved it open. The foyer was empty, same with the hallway, but in the den, off to the side, a television played.

"Celia, is that you?" Antonio called out. Footsteps started their direction immediately, and she stiffened.

"Go change," Corrado whispered, motioning toward the stairs. She bolted up them as he went toward the den to distract her father.

It was then, as he helped her deceive his Boss in order to prove her
wrong, that
he realized he actually was proving her right. He did exactly what she wanted him to do. She had pulled his strings and played him like a puppet.

She was calculating. Manipulative. Cunning.

She'd managed to get one over on him.

How did she do that?

She had him wrapped around her finger and he knew it right then. He knew what the ache in his chest meant. He knew why he acted so irrational. He knew why, despite everything, he couldn't be mad.

He was falling for her.
Hard
.

Antonio faltered in the foyer when his eyes fell upon Corrado. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to speak with you."

"So you let yourself into my house? Uninvited?"

Corrado stared at him. "Sorry, sir. I just—"

"Of course he didn't," Celia hollered, bounding down the steps in a pair of jeans and a blue blouse. "I let him in when I got home."

Antonio narrowed his eyes as he glanced between the two of them, suspicion clear in his expression. Corrado remained still, speaking not a word, not wanting to make it any worse. Antonio knew they were up to something. You couldn't rule an organization full of liars, murderers, and thieves, and not be able to spot deception.

Celia casually kissed her father's cheek before disappearing into the den. Antonio stared at Corrado a moment longer before clearing his throat. "My office."

Corrado's stomach sunk.
No
. The office was reserved strictly for business, for when Antonio slipped into boss mode. Everything about the man changed in there, from the tone of his voice to how he addressed him. Corrado didn't exist in there. In the office, he was nothing more than the youngest Moretti. "I thought we could speak in the den."

"My office," he reiterated, heading for it.

Corrado followed hesitantly, carefully shutting the door and taking a seat across from Antonio. The Boss opened his humidor and pulled out a cigar, clipping the end of it and lighting it before addressing him. "No."

"No?"

"I know what you're going to ask, and the answer's no."

Corrado had no idea what to say.

"It's nothing personal, Moretti, but I can't give you my blessing. She's my daughter, my baby girl, I know her. And you? Well..."

Corrado closed his eyes. He was scum, a lowlife, who made a living by deceiving and destroying.
Of course
he wouldn't want a man like that dating his only daughter.

"I understand, sir," he replied, as much as it pained him to say it.