Page 10 of The Mafia's Broken Vows

“Addy,” Kira begins, reaching in to grab the plates. “Tommy Martelli was part of the crime syndicate in Chicago. It’s called ‘The Outfit.’”

“He was?”

She nods. “He was exiled for doing stupid shit. So he went to New York, and instead of laying low, he did even more stupid shit that eventually got him arrested.”

“By stupid shit, you mean . . . ?”

“Believe it or not, criminals have a code of conduct too, and Martelli broke it repeatedly. Anyway, both the New York Don—a super sexy guy, by the way, and the Chicago Don are teaming up to get him off the hook, hence the kickass defense team.”

Kira takes a breath. “I hate to break it to you, Addy, but your so-called snapping turtle will be having his ragged ass handed back to him after the courtroom floor has been thoroughly wiped.”

I gape at Kira, shocked by her seemingly vast knowledge. “How do you even know all this?”

She shrugs, smirking. “Just check any of the legit vlogs dedicated to Tommy and the trial. Besides, I told you, I like Italian men.”

I see. It’s a load of fan base crap, then, which goes to show how the world loves their antiheroes. Still, I’ll take Kira’s juicy conspiracy theories over the boring facts I glean from work.

I lean forward, lowering my voice. “Okay, so if Martelli offended both Dons, why are they trying to save him from going down?”

Kira’s face lights up, her smile stretching from ear to ear as she pushes a plate of pancakes and bacon with strawberries and cream toward me. The savory scent makes my stomach growl but I find myself hungrier for Martelli’s story.

“Addy, they need him off the authorities’ hook so they can deal with him the mafia way. And I bet Martelli is on board with it too. At least this way he can, you know, negotiate for the life of his wife and kids.”

“Why wouldn’t Martelli negotiate for his own life?”

“Because he’s a dead man whether he goes to prison or not and he knows it. At least with the mafia way, he can strike a deal to save his family from the bloodbath awaiting them.”

“Oh, wow.” I blink rapidly, my jaw working soundlessly as I process it all. “And you got all this from your Italian mafia fan club website or vlog—whatever?”

“We like to think of it as a support group. Anyway, your dad called again,” Kira says, changing the subject.

I groan as my intrigue, as well as appetite, vanishes. “Of course he did.”

Kira leans against the counter, her unseeing eyes somehow locking with mine. “Addy, I know you’re angry with him, but he’s your father. You can’t just cut him out of your life.”

“Yes, I can.” I stab at the pancake with my fork, feeling my frustration mount.

“Adele . . .” Kira calls me gently. The Italian way. Probably something else she learned from her so-called ‘support group’. It makes my heart skip a beat because there’s only one other person who says my name like that.

Three syllables that make goosebumps prickle on my skin. It’s been well over two years since I heard him say it.

Whisper it . . .

Groan it . . .

I snap myself out of the fog of lust gathering in my core and focus on my strained relationship with my dad. “Look, I don’t know if I can forgive him, Kira.”

How can I reconcile that the stern man who raised me to always tell the truth and respect the law is the same man involved in fraud and counterfeit currency?

She reaches out, her fingers brushing against my arm. The touch is gentle and comforting. “People make mistakes, Addy. It doesn’t mean they don’t love you.”

That’s the problem. I’m not so sure it was a mistake. It looks like my discovery of his double life was the mistake. “You don’t even know what he did,” I say to Kira.

“I would if you’d tell me.”

I remain silent, unsure how to explain to her.

Kira nods as if understanding that I’m not ready to talk about it. “Is it worth losing your only relative for, though?”

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