Calisto
“You’re doing great,” Calisto said in the ear of his companion.
Kelsey twisted the silver bangles on her wrist, refusing to look Calisto in the eye. “You think so?”
“I know so.”
“I don’t fit in here, Cal. I don’t fit in with these people.”
“None of us do,” he muttered. “We’re all just playing make believe.”
Kelsey smiled before a tiny giggle escaped. At nineteen, almost twenty, she was a force to be reckoned with. Calisto had made sure of that as soon as he knew she existed. Her mother had been a dirt-poor waitress that came from a shitty neighborhood.
The girl would have gone nowhere.
Her father hadn’t given her a second thought.
So, Calisto stepped up. He made sure she got an education, and then furthered it. He got her out of that crappy neighborhood and put her somewhere where she could excel. She deserved more than being someone’s forgotten thing.
Kelsey was Affonso’s oldest daughter. Another child the man had created with a woman he used for a time and then discarded.
Calisto couldn’t forget about Affonso’s children like the man did. They weren’t things to be made and then tossed away like forgotten toys. He knew that had any of them been boys, they would have been given a much better life.
But they were girls.
Worthless to a man who favored what he could use.
“Are you feeling up to introductions?” Calisto asked.
Kelsey shrugged. “I guess.”
“You’ll do fine. Smile.”
“He doesn’t even know me, Cal.”
“You wanted to know who he is,” Calisto replied quietly. “This was a good time, huh?”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Then let’s go.”
Kelsey didn’t argue as Calisto led her across the large room. People stared, watching them together and probably whispering. None of them knew who Kelsey was, and even Affonso probably wouldn’t recognize the girl. She had been three the last time he saw his oldest daughter, as far as Calisto understood it.
The people of the Donati famiglia likely thought she was Calisto’s date. He hadn’t corrected anyone when they asked. He just didn’t answer them. He brought Kelsey along to the dinner and party for her own benefit, and nothing more. She wanted to see her father—she wanted to know who he was, beyond the headlines and the rumors.
Calisto’s words weren’t enough.
He understood her curiosity.
Sometimes, a person couldn’t be warned.
“Zio,” Calisto greeted politely, coming up behind Affonso.
Affonso turned around fast, bringing Emma with him. His gaze landed on the young woman at Calisto’s side, and Kelsey’s hand wrapped around his arm.
“Cal,” Affonso greeted, never taking his eyes off the young woman. “Who did you bring tonight? I didn’t know you were seeing someone.”
Calisto passed Emma a look. She was a mask of cool, calm composure, but something bright was burning in her eyes. It stung when she turned it on him. It felt as hot as the red of her dress.
She was pissed.
So angry.
Calisto didn’t have the time to pick it apart. “This is … a friend, zio.”
Affonso laughed. “A friend with no name?”
Kelsey’s hand tightened on Calisto’s arm, but she stayed quiet.
“Kelsey,” Calisto said. “Her name is Kelsey.”
Calisto wasn’t even surprised to see Affonso’s lack of reaction. He didn’t recognize the name, or some of his own features staring back at him from Kelsey’s face. She had her mother’s eyes, but the sharp cheekbones of her father, and a smaller nose.
“She wanted to meet you,” Calisto said. “I thought tonight would be a good time.”
Affonso smiled at his daughter, still unknowing. “Why was that?”
“Just because.”
Because if Affonso figured out who the girl was, he was less likely to cause a fuss in front of all his people. He wouldn’t make issues or shame Kelsey like he had done to his other daughters and their mothers when they tried to be near him.
Kelsey tugged on Calisto’s jacket and said, “Cal?”
“Mmm?”
“I’m good.”
Calisto gave his confused uncle a smile. “I’ll be around if you need me, zio.”
Affonso waved a hand high. “Sure.”
Emma’s gaze still burned, but she had yet to say a word.
Turning their backs to Affonso and Emma, Calisto bought Kelsey closer to his side.
“And?” he asked.
“You were right.”
Calisto sighed. “Yeah, I usually am.”
“It wasn’t worth it.”
“At least you know now. It took me years to figure it out, and by then, I was already trapped.”
Kelsey didn’t ask what Calisto meant.
He was grateful.
“You’re irritated tonight,” Calisto heard a familiar voice say from up the stairwell.
Ray.
“My wife,” came the reply.
Affonso.
Confused, Calisto quietly and carefully rounded the stairs. During events at the Donati home, the guests weren’t permitted to explore. Certain people would be overlooked if Affonso offered them a drink in private, but the Donati Don rarely left his guests unattended.
It wasn’t like Affonso to leave the party.
After sending Kelsey back to her apartment with a driver, Calisto had wandered around the party and milled with some of the guests. He’d fielded questions about the mysterious girl he brought along as his date with a charming smile and nothing more.
He didn’t want people to know who Kelsey was. That was by her choice.
She didn’t need to be a part of their world. She was an innocent bystander.
Nothing more.
“Isn’t it always the woman?” Ray asked.
Affonso chuckled dryly. “I think so, with their demands and needs. Drives me insane.”
Calisto stopped halfway up the stairs. He’d tried to keep an eye on Emma all night, just to make sure she was okay. The woman could wear a mask like nobody knew, but he could see right through it. She played her part well, but underneath her false smile was her unhappiness.
He’d been too busy over the last couple of weeks to visit.
It bothered him that Affonso was complaining about Emma, for whatever reason he had complaints.
What had happened?
“She’s as cold as ice, I swear,” Affonso growled. “I can’t get more than two words out of her without her barking at me. Give me your drink, would you?”
“Yeah, here,” Ray replied. “Is this about your wife, or something else?”
“You’re going to have to be more specific, Ray.”
“You’re more irritated than normal lately. I couldn’t help but notice Calisto shows up with a woman at his side, and you get even more ruffled at the collar.”
“Was she Italian, I wonder?”
“Could have been,” Ray said.
“She needs to be Italian for him.”
Calisto ignored the swell of annoyance flooding his veins. The only reason Affonso would want him with an Italian was for heritage sake. Cosa Nostra would not accept boys into the fold who were not half Italian from their father’s side.
But it didn’t make a difference.
Calisto didn’t want his children in this life. He had no plans to continue furthering his own career beyond what it was in la famiglia. He didn’t need the heir his uncle wanted.
“I want information on that girl,” Affonso said, bringing Calisto out of his thoughts. “Find out who she is and where she comes from.”
You’ll be terribly surprised, Calisto thought wirily.
“You know,” Ray started to say, “You could always force Calisto’s hand into the boss’s seat, Affonso.”
Calisto turned into a statue on the stairs, hard in his heart and heavy in his limbs.
“I could,” Affonso echoed.
“No one in la famiglia would turn him down as a boss. Once given it, he wouldn’t have a choice.”
“We rarely take it because we want it. It’s almost always given to us or forced on us. It wouldn’t be any different, I suppose.”
“He couldn’t refuse,” Ray added. “Not if he wanted to live. You’ve done this the nice way with him. Play a little dirty with him, instead, and see where it gets you.”
Calisto’s fingernails bit into his palms when he squeezed his fists into tight balls.
“I don’t really have a choice,” Affonso murmured. “He’s the only boy I have—I made him, he’s mine regardless of what he believes. I molded him for this, Ray. He was always meant for this, I made sure of it. He won’t do it willingly, I tried.”
No, Affonso lied.
Over and over.
For years.
Affonso had pretended to be someone he wasn’t to Calisto. He’d hid secrets for years, and forced the one person who meant the most to Calisto into a corner, taking from her what wasn’t his to have.
Calisto despised this man.
His biological father—it made Calisto sick.
“He doesn’t have to do it willingly, Affonso,” Ray said. “Consider it.”
“I am. Emma was my last shot at getting another boy. I have no other options.”
Calisto turned on his heel and took the stairs two at a time.
Affonso wouldn’t push Calisto into taking the boss’s seat. There was nothing the man could do that would make him give up his hatred enough to give Affonso what he wanted. Not after everything Affonso had done to Calisto and his mother.
He would never call Affonso his father.
He would not be Affonso’s heir.
His blood didn’t matter.
It never had.
Calisto glanced over his shoulder, feeling like someone was watching him. Sure enough, he found Emma’s intense jasmine gaze zoning in on his back with enough rage to level him to the ground.
He was just shrugging on his coat to leave, but her one look stopped him. The house had felt like it was suffocating him for most of the evening, but after overhearing Affonso and Ray’s conversation, it became even more unbearable.
Calisto wanted to leave. He’d always hung his jacket at the back end of the house where no one could go through it. He didn’t trust a damn soul.
Emma’s silent stare from down the hallway said he couldn’t leave.
He put his jacket on the rest of the way. Emma tipped her head to the side, gesturing at a room he knew to be a bathroom.
Calisto waited until she had disappeared into the bathroom, closed the door, and then he followed a few seconds later when he was sure no one would see. Locking the door behind him, he turned around and Emma’s finger hit him square in the chest.
“You,” she hissed.
“Whoa.” Calisto backed into the door, hands up. “What in the hell is wrong with you?”
“Did you do that tonight just to piss me off, Cal?”
“Do what?”
“You know what!”
Calisto flinched at the level of her voice. “Quiet down. Just because this bathroom is supposed to be off-limits for the guests doesn’t mean that they all follow the damn rules.”
Emma glared. “The girl, Cal. Your date.”
She practically spat the word at him.
Calisto finally understood what Emma’s problem had been all night. She wasn’t as angry as she was jealous.
Crazy jealous.
It burned in her eyes and set her mouth into a tight frown. Her fists clenched at her sides, and her nostrils flared.
Goddamn.
She looked good like this.
Calisto didn’t want to admit how much that affected him.
“Kelsey,” Calisto said.
Emma’s eyes narrowed. “Yes.”
“Affonso’s daughter.”
He said the words slowly, drawing every syllable out for Emma to hear. Her fight left her eyes and defensive stand almost instantly.
Calisto chuckled. “Not so jealous now, huh?”
“I wasn’t—”
“You were. You were damn jealous. You wanted to rip my throat out and ask questions later.”
Emma fiddled with the diamond necklace she wore, avoiding his gaze. “I didn’t know that’s who she was. He didn’t say.”
“He didn’t know, either.”
“Oh.”
Calisto liked that Emma had been jealous, but he didn’t know why exactly.
Maybe because it proved something.
Something important.
She wanted him to be hers.
“Hey,” he said.
Calisto slid two fingers under Emma’s chin, and tilted her head up. An uncertainty flickered across her features. The vulnerable side of Emma was one of her best parts, he decided. The woman was strong as hell, and she didn’t show much off to the crowd. She had to know how beautiful she was when she was unsure.
But she probably didn’t.
“I was jealous,” Emma admitted. “I shouldn’t have been.”
“Why not?” he dared to ask.
“You’re not mine. I can’t expect you—”
Calisto held up his other hand, quieting Emma instantly. He knew what she was going to say. She didn’t expect him to be faithful to something that didn’t exist.
“Sorry,” Emma whispered.
“Don’t be. You’re right, I’m not yours. I can date if I want to, fuck who I want to.”
Emma cringed. “Yeah.”
“But I’m not,” he said gently.
Her stare flew up to his, silently questioning again.
His confession came far too easy.
“I think about you too much to be worrying about someone else,” he said.
Emma blinked, and a sliver of wetness coated her bottom lashes. “Why, though?”
“I don’t know.”
Calisto hadn’t been able to give an answer for that, even to himself. He tried, but failed.
“That’s not a good answer, Calisto.”
“You got under my skin, Emmy. I liked that you were there. I couldn’t cut you out, even if I tried.”
“How messed up is this?” she asked.
Calisto laughed. “My whole life has been something of a mess. I’m not surprised I’ve found myself in yet another one.”
“Thanks.”
“But I don’t mind it,” he added.
Emma smiled just a bit, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Calisto could tell something else was bothering her. Whatever it was, it was pushing her fragile shoulders down with its weight.
“Emmy?”
“What?” she asked.
“You can tell me anything.”
“Can I ask you anything?”
Calisto shrugged. “Same difference.”
“When did you learn that Affonso was your father?”
Her words had come out quiet but sure. They still hit Calisto in the chest like a ton of bricks had just been dropped down on him. Out of instinct, he tried to move away from what Emma was saying, but his back hit the door again.
“I don’t know what …” Calisto clenched his teeth, willing his angry denials away. Emma watched him through her thick, long lashes, silent and waiting. “How?”
It was the only thing he could ask.
Anything else could kill him.
“I heard some things, he did some things.”
Affonso.
Calisto wet his lips. “Like what?”
“The hospital, for one. The day after. I heard you arguing with him. It took me a while to figure it all out. I felt so stupid.”
“Don’t feel that way. Only a handful of people know. Three of them are dead. I even have two birth certificates. One listing my father as deceased. The other listing my father as Affonso Donati with his signature. The nurse who forged the documents for Affonso the day I was born got thrown in the bay after he had her hands cut off.”
Emma’s cheeks drained of color. “Oh, my God.”
“My mother refused him, you see. He wanted to sign, and she hid as much about the pregnancy as she could from him. Right up until the day she gave birth. She didn’t want his name on my documents as my father. She never did.”
“Why?”
Calisto’s truths pressed up his throat, wanting out. “She didn’t want him around me after all he had done.”
Emma chewed on her inner cheek. “Oh.”
“Is that all you have to say?”
“She was the one woman, wasn’t she? You told me once that he hurt a woman. You only knew of one that he’d done something to that made him a monster.”
Calisto nodded. “She was the one. She trusted him—she found a friend in him when her husband was running with all sorts of women all over the city. Affonso took it as something else, and one night, he took it too far. She hated him, and I never understood why.”
Emma drew in a deep breath. “But you do now.”
“A few months before she died, I was going through her things. We knew her heart disease wasn’t going to give her a whole lot of time—she was diagnosed late, after a minor cardiac arrest—but we thought she had a bit. She wanted to have things settled.”
“Keep going,” she said when he quieted.
“I found some papers. Letters from Affonso to her. He apologized. I don’t know why she kept them. I confronted her like it was her fault. I went at her like she had been the one who had done wrong. I didn’t have a clue, but I was so angry because they all lied to me. I didn’t realize how badly she hurt, or all the years she’d turned her cheek to the monster who kept her son too close because she didn’t have any other choice.”
Emma reached out, and snagged his hand with hers. Calisto let her.
“I adored him for years,” Calisto continued, rubbing a hand over his face. “I thought he was a king, but he was just … a wolf in sheep’s clothing. When I refused to marry the woman he wanted me to marry because I was angry over his lies and what he had done, he put a gun to my head and laughed.”
Emma bit down on her lip hard enough to draw blood. “Really?”
“Yes. He didn’t even flinch. In fact, he asked me how much I loved my mother. Did I love her enough to get myself killed for the sake of pride? Was I willing to do that to her just to punish him for the past?”
“He’s always saying to leave things in the past,” she mumbled.
Calisto scoffed. “It’s his favorite thing. I can’t out him for what he did without outing who I am to him. I can’t get away from him without losing something. I won’t give him what he wants—I can’t get what I want, either.”
“I’m sorry, Cal.”
Her words washed over him with a peaceful serenity. He’d needed to tell someone, and now that he had, he wasn’t sure what to do. Calisto was glad it had been Emma who figured out his secret. She had her own to hide. He kept them for her, too. She wouldn’t tell his.
“My mother died,” Calisto said, ignoring the thickness building in his tone. “I was angry, grieving, and guilty. It was constant. I couldn’t get away from it. I’d loved the man who hurt her—I idolized him without knowing the fear and pain he’d caused her for years. She let me grow up without ever having said a bad word about him; she never told me the truth. Instead, she let me need him, want to be him.”
“Do you know why?”
Calisto let out a bitter laugh, but it hurt.
Deep in his soul, burrowed in his heart, he hurt.
It would never go away now.
“Of course.”
Emma squeezed his hand. “Then why?”
“Because he would rather have a dead son than no son at all, Emmy. That’s what he spent years telling my mother—his victim.”