Not Mine to Keep (The Costa Family)

The woman was going to kill me, and I wasn’t even home. I needed to stop checking the security cameras. Right now, Callie was using my home gym and wearing yoga pants and a pink sports bra. Luckily for Frankie, Leo, and my guards, I’d revoked their access to the interior cameras, aside from the kitchen and living room. I didn’t need them seeing my wife doing a Downward-Facing Dog. Hell, I didn’t need to see it, either, but I couldn’t seem to look away. I also had no idea how she had the energy to work out when today felt like we’d crammed two into one.

“You okay? You appear starstruck. What’s on your phone?”

I closed out the security camera app, finding Izzy in the doorway to my office. Well, our other office—the one for our “volunteer” work, which was technically Enzo’s old home before we’d converted it into our new headquarters a few months ago.

“So?” Of course Izzy wouldn’t let it go. “What was on your phone?” She came into the room and plopped down on the leather chair before the desk, giving me a knowing smile. “Ahhh. You were creeping on her, weren’t you?”

“I wasn’t creeping.” I dropped back into my seat, feeling very much like a psycho stalker. “I was making sure she’s okay.”

“Don’t trust your security? You did hire half the city to stand guard in your building. It’s probably more secure than the White House. Pretty sure your neighbors will believe the rumors you’re married to a mafia princess.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” They did, in fact, think that. Mrs. Newman had given me major side-eye in the lobby this afternoon, clutching her little poodle to her chest like I might kill the mutt. Her ridiculous reaction had been about the same as the board members’, though. That uncomfortable meeting at our family business had lasted three hours too long, but we managed to set aside their concerns about my wife’s father for now.

“So if you weren’t worried about her physical safety, why were you creeping?”

“Because I messed up earlier,” I confessed, knowing she’d get it out of me one way or another. We ought to consider bringing her in the field for interrogation purposes. “I was making sure she wasn’t crying or something.”

“Don’t take her for a crier.”

“She has her moments.” Why’d I admit I know that?

“And what’d you do?” She sat taller, staring at me as if she very much enjoyed this show that was now my life. Still paying me back for running off her boyfriends over the years.

Reluctantly, I went ahead and told my sister about buying the guitar, which had been a lot more challenging than I’d let on—the man had practically wanted my kidney in return.

“What were you thinking, getting her that guitar?” Izzy stared at me with wide eyes. “Do you want her to fall in love with you?”

“Of course not!”

“Well then, next time you think about some grand gesture, run it by me first.”Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

“And next time you’re undercover,” I countered, tossing her own words at her, “maybe run the whole making-out-with-our-friend thing by us first.”

“Made out with who?” Constantine rasped, and Izzy startled and looked over to see him filling the doorway.

“No one.” She swung her attention back around, a plea in her big brown eyes to keep my mouth shut. I gave her a quick nod, and she stood.

“Hudson will be here soon,” Constantine said, “and then we can go over the plan we discussed on the flight that you missed out on.”

Right. I’d been on the other jet and hadn’t yet heard their thoughts on how we’d take out both Rocco and Armani before summer’s end. I had my ideas, but I was curious to hear theirs.

“Can we have a second alone?” I asked Izzy, tipping my chin toward Constantine.

She gave me her signature don’t-screw-me-over eyes, not wanting me to mention the kiss, then left the office.

“What was that all about?” Constantine went to the bar cart and poured his preferred brand of Kentucky bourbon.

“Nothing.” I stood and rounded the desk to accept the glass he’d extended. “We haven’t had a minute alone since the club in Rome, and it couldn’t have been easy on you to walk away from Rocco. How are you doing?”

“I’m great.” He perched his hip on the side of my desk and kept his eyes on the bar cart. “You all care more about what he did to me four years ago than I do.” I highly doubted that, but I wasn’t going to argue. “Your restraint in not killing him when you had the chance shows how much you care about Callie.”

“I barely know her.” I finished the drink a little too quickly and grabbed the bottle and added more to my glass. “She’s my assignment, and our opportunity to take out Rocco and his father.”

“You’re married,” he said in disbelief, and yeah, you and me both. “I still can’t believe it. But with any luck, you won’t need to stay married all summer. We have a plan to help get that ring off your finger much sooner.”

That had my attention.

“If that’s what you want?”

I laughed, and oddly, it felt forced. “Of course that’s what I want.”

He casually sipped his drink, then pushed away from the desk, his gaze shooting to the door. Hudson was in the hall now and talking with Izzy. “Something I should know about them?”

“No. Izzy was just being Izzy.” I’d take a bullet for my sister both literally and metaphorically, so it would seem. “All good.” I caught her eyes and waved them in, giving them the okay it was safe to join us. Not that I really accepted Constantine’s answer about being “great,” given the Rocco situation, but I knew not to press. “So what’s this plan that’ll get me out of the marriage faster?”

Instead of answering, Izzy went to my bar and poured herself wine and Hudson whiskey. Did this plan require liquid courage to be shared? Why were they stalling? And all looking at me like I was the subject of an investigation. I reached for the knot of my tie, forgetting I’d already removed it on the drive over from the other office an hour ago.

“Do I need to sit for this or something?” I asked, uneasiness burrowing into my stomach.

“How do you feel about using Callie’s thirtieth birthday as the bait to draw Rocco to us?” Izzy pitched the idea. “A joint birthday party for the two of you since you’re forty on the twenty-first, too. Invite Armani and Marcello as a little peace offering to the party as well.”

“And at the party, we frame Rocco for Armani’s death,” Hudson tacked on casually, eyes meeting mine as he spoke. “And attempted murder of Callie.”

Use my wife as bait for a psychopath? I was okay with being bait, but I wanted her to be far away from me when that time came. With The League now watching Rocco’s every movement, I’d fortunately be able to anticipate his arrival and hide her away for safekeeping from the sick bastard.

Constantine joined in on the conversation and said, “The plan was always to kill Armani and Marcello to set Callie free by turning the reins over to Gabriel, correct?”

“This idea kills two birds with one stone,” Izzy said before I could answer. “We make it look like Rocco was pissed Armani betrayed the deal to unite the families and wanted revenge by going after the DiMaggio organization.”

“Then we’ll get retribution for Armani and Marcello’s murders by killing the Barones,” Hudson said casually. “There shouldn’t be any concerns you or Callie were tied to their deaths. Then she’ll pass the power over to Gabriel, you’ll get a divorce, and she can live her life as she did before.”

I went around to my desk, needing to sit. It was a good plan. The idea of blaming Rocco had crossed my mind, especially when Armani had asked whether Rocco would be a problem for me before the wedding. But the time frame . . . and placing her in potential danger threw me off. I didn’t want that sick fuck breathing the same air as her.

“And if Rocco doesn’t take the bait? If his father convinces him to stick to the cease-fire arranged between our parents and not come after me? Us?” I finally spoke, my head still spinning.

“Whether he comes or not, we still pin the blame on him,” Constantine said. “The League’s eyes in the sky confirmed Claudio’s also at the compound in Romania. I’ve convinced them not to storm the place to take him out for now—to wait so we can use Rocco for Armani’s murder.”

“Think about it,” Izzy began on approach. “You stole Rocco’s chance to marry Callie by killing Esposito at his wife’s fortieth birthday. So what better revenge plan for him than to learn you’re having a party for your wife, and for him to want to take action there? It’s believable, and I have a feeling he won’t be able to resist coming, regardless of whether his father chooses not to start shit with us and The League.”

“You’re getting scary good at this job,” I muttered, taking a sip of my drink, buying myself more time to think. “We’d need to have the party off the island. No hotel or anyplace that can chance the risk of civilian casualties.” I thought through the idea a bit more. “A mansion we can secure that has a safe room I can hide Callie in if Rocco or his men do show up.”

“And a way to kill Armani and Marcello privately to pin their deaths on the Barones,” Izzy said with a nod. “We can do this. And hey, this gives Mom a party to plan, and she’ll get off your back about having a family dinner.”

I shook my head. “Real funny.”

“Not a bad idea, actually,” Constantine chimed in. “Better to keep Mom away from your wife as much as possible. She’ll get attached, and her heart will get broken when you two split.”

Mom’s heart? Yeah, another heart I needed to worry about breaking alongside Callie’s, which was why I’d been so adamant earlier at the airport that Mom keep her distance from my wife. “I might need to talk this over with Gabriel first.”

“No, he stays out of it.” Constantine set down his glass, and I looked Hudson’s way, waiting to see if he’d share whether he’d had any luck digging into Gabriel’s background like my brother had asked him to do in Rome.

“Still looking,” Hudson said, reading my thoughts. “He’s been with the DiMaggios since he was a teenager. I’d question his motives for working with you, but—”

“Taking over the DiMaggio organization seems like a legitimate one,” I finished for him.

Hudson discarded his unfinished glass on the bar cart. “But I’ll keep checking.”

“So?” Izzy circled the desk, waiting for my okay on the plan.

“I think it can work.” I lifted my hand to tell her to pause her excitement for a beat. “But I need daily reports about Rocco’s whereabouts from The League. If the man takes a piss outside that compound in Romania, I want to know about it.” I turned toward Constantine next. “You sure you’re good with this plan? You talked to Dad about it? We held off on hunting Rocco down all these years, not because Dad arranged a deal with Claudio, but because you asked us to follow Dad’s orders.”

“Dad was trying to keep us from having to look over our shoulders every five minutes.” Of course Constantine would defend Dad. “But it’s time Rocco gets to look over his shoulder. And when he does”—and there was that anger that’d been missing from him before—“I’ll slit his throat.”

“Lovely image,” Izzy whispered. “Well, I have to get going. I’m going to let Mom know about the party and hope that distracts her from her efforts to cozy up to your wife.”

“Mom can’t lose another daughter,” Constantine said somberly, and fuck, that comment hurt. “We’ll talk later. It’s been a long day. Everyone should get home,” Constantine deflected, then motioned to clear out, but I hung back and once alone, rested my elbows on the desk, placing my head in my hands.

I’d be single again soon enough. I can do this.

I finally had the energy to look up before I fell asleep right there, my eyes catching sight of my wedding ring in the process. Shit. I grabbed my phone and called up my assistant, not caring it was after 2100 hours. “I need a favor.”

“Another one?” I heard the smirk in his tone.

“I forgot to get her an engagement ring. She’s a Costa now. She needs a diamond on her finger, or people might—”

“I’ll pick one up tomorrow.”

“No, now. I need to go now.”

“Sir, it’s late. The stores will be closed.”

“Get a manager on the phone,” I directed, not prepared to back down on this. “Something on Fifth Avenue. The best jewelry store there is. They’ll open up for me. Text me the location. I’ll be there in thirty.”

“Yeah, um, okay. I’ll do my best, but you owe me a nice vacation when this is all over.”

“All expenses paid on me. Got it,” I said before hanging up, then went and refilled my glass, my nerves shot to hell as I thought about buying a diamond—something I hadn’t done since I was twenty-two. Of course, I’d gotten down on one knee then, and I had no plans to ever do that again.