Deception (The Chicago Mob Series)

Chapter Two: The Family

DIANA

   Vinny DeMarco's estate was like nothing I'd ever seen before. It was located not too far outside of the city, clearly for the sake of his own comfort and privacy. Passing the large security gate, we drove up the long, paver stone driveway until we reached the loop in front of the Mediterranean-style mansion, a jaw-dropping fountain set right in the middle of the green, manicured lawn that was located in the center.

   "Wow," I said, gazing at the breathtaking, nineteen-million-dollar home and all its glory as we pulled up in front of it. FBI surveillance photos from the outside gate didn't do the place justice. This was the kind of home that only a king could live in. Or, in this case, a Mob boss.

   It was exactly a week after the Giordano wedding—May twenty-eighth—and Vinny was expecting us for lunch. On this perfect Saturday, it was a beautiful Spring day, and everything felt perfect. My supposed love interest parked the white Bentley in front of the estate's third garage door and turned off the engine. "Leave your phone here," he said, placing his own in the middle console.

   "Huh?"

   "Your phone—it stays in the car. Leave it here."

   I understood clearly now. Vinny didn't want any phones in his house. At least, not for this specific visit.

   "Okay." I took out my cell phone from my small clutch purse and placed it in the console, right beside his. The fact that my phone wasn't the only one being requested to be left behind eased my nerves a bit. And, at least, he didn't say anything about shutting them off. It meant that I most likely was getting the chance to live another day.

   It surprised me when Julian took my hand as we walked up to the front steps of his father's home, interlacing his fingers with mine as if he wasn't ashamed to show I was someone special to him. The sun shined down on our backs as we awaited for one of the elegant, tall, double-entry doors to open. I could see a short, dark-haired woman approaching through the decorated glass.

   Julian smiled—something he seldomly ever did around people—as the short, older woman on the other side opened the left door. She looked just as happy to see Julian as he did to see her. "Mima," he greeted with warmth. "How are you?"

   "Il mio piccolo principe," she happily replied, calling him her little prince. There was an automatic fondness for him—she absolutely adored this man as if he were her own son.

   This was the woman who watched Julian grow up in this home as a young child. Her name was Mima Palazzo, and she had been employed by Vinny DeMarco for the past thirty years. Throughout that time, she worked as their cook and nanny. "Entra, entra," she beamed after giving him a kiss on the cheek.

   "Mima, this is Camila," Julian said as the woman happily ushered us inside the home, "mio amico."

   He called me his friend, but I knew that was only because he wasn't ready to verbally label us as anything else out loud. Julian was a man who showed who he was by his actions, not his words. He may have called me his "friend" in that moment, but the display of him holding my hand revealed I was much more to him just than that.

   "Nice to meet you, Camila," Mima greeted with her thick Italian accent once I was in the grand foyer. She cupped my face tightly and kissed both my cheeks.