Obsessed with His Bride

“He likes to keep me close,” I said, although I wasn’t sure why I was telling this man about it. “Maybe a little too close.”

The man laughed and seemed delighted. “That just means he likes you, my dear,” he said. “I’ll be honest and say, I’ve known Dante for some time, and I’ve never known him to keep a woman around for long.”

I smiled a little. “Can’t say I’m surprised.”

“So consider yourself lucky.”

“I suppose I will.” I leaned toward him. “I’m sorry, I just realized I never got your name.”

“Luciano,” he said, and the name registered somewhere in my brain, but I couldn’t quite place it. “It’s lovely to meet you.”

“How long have you known Dante?”

“Years,” he said. “Years and years. I remember when he was a very young man.”

“Really? What was he like?”

“Oh, headstrong,” Luciano said and laughed. “Aggressive. Smart. Incredibly rude.”

I grinned. “I can see all that.”

“The rudeness he grew out of, for the most part. But everything else?” He gestured, waving a hand. “Not so much. But he’s loyal and good to his people. Have you asked Gino out there much about his boss?”

“No,” I admitted. “Gino doesn’t seem like he wants to talk to me.”

“Don’t take it personally. Gino never wants to talk to anyone.” Luciano laughed and sipped his tea. “Ask him about Dante sometime, though. Gino has an interesting story about his boss.”

“I will.” I frowned at him and tilted my head. “How did you know that Gino worked for Dante?”

Luciano smiled at me and shrugged. “Oh, just an educated guess, my dear.” He shifted in his seat and checked his watch. “I believe Dante is on his way as we speak, so if you want to ask any more about that man as a youth, you’d better ask now.”

My frown deepened. That name was still bugging me, and the way he spoke about Gino and Dante like he knew all about their lives as Mafia men was starting to bug me. This man wasn’t what he appeared, but I didn’t understand who he was, or what he was doing in Dante’s house.

But my curiosity got the better of me. “You said he hasn’t kept any women around. Does that mean he’s never had a girlfriend?”

Luciano laughed and absently swirled his tea. “Not a girlfriend in the way you mean, no, although I suspect he’s had plenty of opportunities. Dante has been very popular for many years now.”

“I wish I knew more to ask you,” I admitted. “Would you tell me a story from when he was younger? Something I can use against him.”

Luciano grinned at me and leaned closer. “Something embarrassing then?”

“If you wouldn’t mind. Nothing too bad, but he holds all the cards here… and it would be nice to have a little something to throw back at him.”

Luciano gave me a long, appraising look. “Smart girl,” he said. “All right then. I have a story that I know he wouldn’t want me telling.”

“I’m all ears.” I leaned closer and felt a little flutter in my heart.

“When Dante was a boy, maybe fifteen years old, he decided that he wanted to be a tough guy. He was tough back then, don’t misunderstand me, but Dante believed he was something more than just a fifteen-year-old punk. So one day, he decided he was going to steal from the police station.”

I laughed and shook my head. “No way.”

“Yes, yes way. There’s a police station near Fairmount, right behind a Wawa, and it was his intention to rob that place.”

“What was he thinking?”

Luciano spread his hands. “Truth be told, I don’t know. He must have had some kind of plan, because he seemed so confident when he told me the story later. But at the time, I thought the fool boy was insane.”

“So what happened?”

“Apparently, he stood outside of the precinct until some police came out. As the door was closing, he slipped inside. How he even made it that far, I’ll never know, but he made it into the building and began to walk the halls. At first, nobody stopped him, probably assumed that he was someone else’s responsibility. He somehow found an unlocked office, stepped inside, and proceeded to take several pens and notebooks from the bottom drawer of the desk, all with official Philadelphia Police seals on them.”

“You’re lying,” I said, laughing. “No way. That’s insane.”

“It is. He says he made it about halfway out of the office before someone stopped him. He was arrested on the spot and the cops threw the book at him, I think out of embarrassment more than anything else. Well, word reached me that a young, interesting up-and-coming solider had been arrested for trying to rob a police precinct, and I couldn’t help but use some of my influence to get his sentence reduced. I paid his bail, got them to give him community service, and brought the boy into the fold after that.”