E.W.E.W - L.W.T.B.B Copyright © 2012-2018 xXMopelXx All Rights Reserved.

Current Chapter Posted - Saturday, August 18, 2018

* * Small Recap * *

Sam's big fight with Baxton needs to happen still. The Donalds are still crazy. Sam and Anna are still sexy and doing sexy things. Our fav OTP is still being targeted by the Donalds and their schemes to win and NOW SAM'S MAMA JUST CAUGHT BOTH ADULTS DOING THE DIRTY? Oh, and some serious secret-ish stuff gets revealed in this chapter. Enjoy! :) 

Happy Reading, Queens <3

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{ Chapter 41 } : One Russian and Two Mafiosos 

Tiffany Rinaldi was the epitome of class.

The kitchen was filled with her feminine energy, the sound of the whistling kettle on the stovetop, and the clack of her heels. She hummed under her breath as she prepared us coffee and cut up proportionate slices of chocolate cake and tiramisu dessert.

Beyond the glass of the kitchen windows and sliding doors, morning crept in and broke through the half-opened blinds, casting the entire place in a mixture of shadows and dawn light pinstripes. It was beautiful, really, how quickly darkness had melted into something softer and brighter.

Even the Italian soap opera playing in the background on the TV added a lulling touch to the atmosphere.

It may have been four am, and, although I hadn't slept yet, I'd never been more awake. This was the first time I was meeting my boyfriend's mother, so I was bound to be anxious. Sleep had completely evaded me.

My boyfriend and I lounged on wing-backed chairs surrounding an oversized mahogany kitchen table with gold accents, sated and showered, our hands entwined, while his mother prepared a very-early "breakfast" for us.

Because my mother had raised me right, I'd asked Tiffany earlier if I could help her. Even insisted on it. But, after splaying a loving hand on my cheek, she'd tenderly told me to sit down and keep quiet since I was her guest.

Sam and I were the perfect depiction of teenagers who got scolded after doing something naughty...which, I guess was absolutely fitting for the moment.

Impatience was etched tautly in every line of Sam's body. His left knee bounced up and down at a constant pace. He released a child-like huff to mark his displeasure at our situation. And, every few seconds, was adamant on towel-drying his already dried hair.

Maybe he was just as nervous as me; though I did a much better job at hiding it.

After all, he was still shirtless and in low slung jeans, and I only had his king-sized shirt that reached my upper thighs to cover me up. Tiffany hadn't given us time to change into something more decent after she practically commanded us to have a seat at her table.

As regal and poised as ever, I watched her in slight awe as she balanced three gold-rimmed Royal Albert dessert plates in her nimble fingers and came towards us.

"Thank you," I said softly, and she gave me a beam.

She sat them down gently in front of us and placed matching gold spoons on our pink napkins. Once the coffee was distributed, she sat down with a satisfied smile and fastened her content gaze on mine and Sam's joined hands.

Something like proudness glimmered in her eyes. I could tell it was genuine. Putting aside my clothing state, I think, to some extent, I passed Tiffany's test.

She gracefully took her spoon in hand and cut a piece of her chocolate cake. "How was your day...or night, I should say?" she finally cut through the silence.

I tried to control the shakiness in my throat. It was futile. My throat had gone dry. "Um, er, very good."

"Rafael?" she asked pointedly with an arched eyebrow, casually running her fingers through her blond coif.

The guy in question released another martyr sigh. "This is so fvcking awkward, mama. You could have just pretended you didn't see us and we could have gone to bed, woken up in five hours, and acted like it was the first time you were seeing us."

His mom rolled her eyes and I fought a shy smile. I mean, I assumed it was obvious what we did downstairs. His mom knew, judging by the sly look she shot us. I was embarrassed, but I hid it well. Sam was having an even harder time doing so.

"My, God. Rafe. My son cusses too much. I wonder how you got yourself a beautiful donna like Anna with that mouth of yours."

I like his mouth just fine...My cheeks instantly fired red when the thought struck me. Holy God. I have no self control.

"I'm sure it was my good looks, of course. She can't get enough. There's no doubt about it," he said cockily in that manner I so often found endearing. Then he narrowed his eyes and directed an accusing spoon in her direction. "Just so you know, if I get diabetes, it's because you insist on feeding me sugar at the worst times."

"I wonder, amore, where you get all this arrogance from. It's so charming, of course." His mom looked at him skeptically with a smile, so I decided to help her out.

I pointed a blank look at her jokingly, and deadpanned, "He hit on me with so little finesse the first time we officially met that I threw my drink all over him."

Tiffany burst out laughing, covering her mouth in a lady-like fashion. Disbelief bled in her voice, "Please tell me you're jesting."

I shook my head. Sam's jaw hung a little open. "Tesoro, we don't ever speak of that."

I flicked my almost-dried hair over my shoulder with sass. "We'll speak of it whenever I want."

"Good girl, Anna." His mom looked at us with open adoration, then added. "What did he say?"

Yeah, that I couldn't say.

Sam's shit-eating grin was growing the size of Texas besides me. He was goading me, silently daring me to tell his mother. So mischievous. So fucking devious.

"We'll, he wasn't very nice to me, in other words," I said. Your son basically said, in other words, that I was divine and a good fvck upstairs would do us both well. She blinked at me. "...And, I don't think it's something I should say out loud."

A knowing smirk inched upon her lips. "Rafael," she chastised playfully. "What did I teach you? You always respect ragazze."

Looking at me slowly, he trekked his eyes over my frame, his perusal making me feeling some type of way. The look he was sporting was hot, smoked, and predatory. To the outside world, it was fucking innocent. But I knew better. "I'm always nice to you. I respect my girlfriend, don't I, Tesoro?"

My chest contracted with a stuttering breath, but I tried to mask my slip with a perfect everything-is-okay-and-I'm-not-affected smile. But it was all in vain. I could clearly hear his crass words, his hooded eyes and his callused fingers around my throat.

When I didn't answer, Sam curved a hand over my thigh under the table, until the rough pads of his fingers were millimeters away from my aching core. Goddammit. "Hmm. What do you say, sweetheart?"

Nice? Yeah, right.

Apologize, baby.

Now say it again while you fuck my cock with those soft hands and finish me off. Good girls get a treat, Anna. Sempre.

I wouldn't have him any other way. My legs clenched, holding his hand right there. "Nice...Yes."

Sam held my thigh and flashed me a satisfied smile that was all bee-stung lip and pearly-white teeth.

His mom cleared her throat. Sam and I snapped out of our reverie and faced his mom.

She lifted her coffee cup to her mouth. "I was young once as well, and I know how easy it is to get lost in the throes of passion – "

Okaaaay. Any heat I was experiencing had evaporated. Libido gone cold. Sam groaned beside me. "Mom, please. Stop."

Tiffany clicked her tongue and continued. Sam raised his own cup to his lips. "–Especially with you two being beautiful young adults. So, I must ask, did you guys use protection downstairs?"

Sam's coffee sprayed out of his mouth and dirtied his mom's fancy linen.

* * *

"Look at him here!" Tiffany's squealed as we poured over old photo albums in her country- pristine living room, cozied up with more coffee, and going over Sam's baby pictures.

After Sam's wonderful mother had the birds and the bees conversation with us, we'd gone to bed. Five hours later, she woke us up with more food and basically scurried our asses downstairs to entertain her.

Now I was quickly learning that nothing was cuter than a seven-month-old Sam in a green onesie, with chubby fists and cheeks, a drooling chin, golden curls that would put cherubs to shame, and the utmost perfect pair of emerald gems.

Even as a baby you could tell Beer Boy was up to no good.

"I want to eat him," I said on a particular picture of him. He was sitting on a swing, giving the camera this look that emphasized his aggravation, his little shorts riding up his small legs and his baseball cap perched backwards. He was only two and a half. My face ached from the permanent grin plastered on my face. God, those cheeks and that face. I just couldn't.

Sam winked at me from his lazy sprawl on the cerulean couch opposite of us. I blinked...So crazy how the same little man in these photographs was the same one reclined horizontally on his mother's favorite piece of furniture. Now he looked so tall and old and mature.

"Go for it," he quipped.

Of course, he hadn't been paying attention to us. He'd been on his phone since we came down. Yet the second I talked about eating him, he was all ears.

"Oh, look at this one!" Tiffany gushed, and flipped the page.

There was a flurry of snapshots of Sam growing up – playing in the tub with his rubber duckies, running with a football in his little hands, crying on the sidewalk after a scolding and much more.

"These are so precious," I told her, taking a sip of my warm coffee and tucking my toes beneath my butt to warm them up. The fireplace was on, but there was an odd, stale chill in the house.

"I love looking at these," she sighed wistfully and reached down to scoop another handful of albums. "Let me show you some of my daughter."

Sam's sister Samantha – or Ravenna, as his mom referred to her – had an entire dozen or so albums dedicated to her.

It was heart-breaking to see Tiffany flick through an enormous amount of pictures of her late-daughter. Sometimes she'd give a bright laugh and explain to me what Ravenna was doing in the moment, other times she'd stare at her daughter's face with glimmering eyes and barely repressed love.

I felt her pain. It was the same look I got in my eyes when I went through old pictures of my dad. Someone who was long gone, who you couldn't see physically, and whose voice you couldn't hear anymore was stamped forever on a piece of paper. It was incredible how pictures can immortalize a being.

Sam and his sister were carbon copies of each other. While they had similar features, Samantha was fragile, lithe, tall and so very feminine. Sam was handsome and raw, grappling between the ripe division of a guy and man. 

"She was a wonder," Tiffany murmured, running her fingers gently over a picture of Ravenna with her glossy blond locks splayed over the grass, her eyes squeezed closed against the beaming sunlight and her red-painted mouth perfectly puckered for the shot. "My angel..."

The yearning didn't go unheard by me or Sam. Nor did the tone of unshed tears. Sam reached forward meaningfully from the other side of the couch to squeeze his mom's hands.

She smiled at him, without taking her eyes off of her Ravenna.

She flipped the page and the next picture was of Samantha and Daniel, dressed as Sandy and Danny from Grease, standing in their kitchen. "This was taken six years ago..."

Samantha had this sultry look in her eyes and her arms wrapped possessively around Danny's torso. Danny's hair was perfectly slicked back, a don't-give-a-fuck expression plastered on his chiseled face, his look complete with a black leather jacket and cigarette dangling from his mouth. They looked so young. They looked perfectly in character. They looked perfect, period.

The picture right beside was almost  the same, except this time they were looking at each other with open adoration and upturned smirks. It's so obvious that they're young but in love with one another.

"Danny doesn't celebrate Halloween," Tiffany went on, sniffling lightly. "Ravenna begged him."

An odd creak resonated in the house. It sounded like the floorboards.

Tiffany continued. "I found out later Danny had wanted to marry her. She was only eighteen." She shook her head and looked at me. "He had a ring for her."

My heart melted and dropped to the pit of my stomach. A surge of anger rolled over me like a tide, because how could fate be so cruel to these two? My eyes prickled with the start of tears, but I held them back. "I'm so sorry to hear that. I don't know why life happens that way."

She shrugged. "I never cared that he wasn't Italian. He's a good man, something I didn't always see at first. But he loved my daughter to the ends of the world, and that was enough for me."

Another creaking noise resounded. Everyone else ignored it so I did, too.

Sam shifted from his spot and I knew this was just as uncomfortable for him as it was for me. "I didn't know he had a ring for her."

Tiffany nodded and looked outside the window, her profile outlined by the rays of light seeping through, and her blond hair glowing like an angelic crown around her face. I knew that distant and far-away look in her eyes. It was tragic. "Yes. He told me he wanted to propose to her when she turned twenty-one."

The silence between us three was thick, uncanny and suffocating.

I gave Sam a pleading look because I hated seeing Tiffany like this and he conceded with a small smile of understanding. "Mom...show Anna my favorite album. The one with pictures of me and Nate that you love."

She tried to slyly wipe away under her eyes, but it didn't matter. We'd seen her tears.

My heart fucking hurt so bad seeing her like that. I simply gave her a reassuring hand that she squeezed back in gratitude, with her own heart in her eyes.

When she spoke again, her voice was stuffy. "Yes. Yes. I love that one." She picked out an album with a pink font and a cheesy one-liner. "Did I ever tell you that I thought Nate and Sam were gay for each other?"

I threw my head back and guffawed.

* **

The sound of the doorbell echoed throughout the house.

I glanced at Sam, who leapt from the couch and went to the large bay window behind us. "No one was supposed to come..." His feature's relaxed when he pushed aside the curtains. "It's Danny's black Camaro."

"Jesus, that gave me a scare." Tiffany pressed a hand over her heart, before shooing Sam off.  "Go on, amore, open the door for him. I completely forgot that I invited him over."

I stayed rooted to my spot. In the hallway next to us, male laughter boomed in greeting and I could just imagine Sam and Danny doing that thing guys did when they saw each other.

"You gave my mother a scare." Sam walked back into the room, with Danny trailing behind him in his own hulking frame.

It was worth noticing how beyond the walls of the living room, I'd heard Daniel Ivanov's laughter. It had momentarily fooled me into thinking that he was like every other average man. I knew that was a lie. My gaze fell on his hands, tucked in his brown leather jacket pockets and all I could imagine was the gun he kept hidden and the smears of blood I'd seen on his fingers.

I tried not to think about that night. We were acting like it never happened, right? Sam's mother had no idea what had transpired, but something tells me she would now, judging by Danny's strong entrance.

His stoic mask slipped into place upon seeing me and Tiffany, and he nodded his head in a polite greeting. "Tiffany. Anna."

Tiffany sauntered over to him and threw her arms around him like she was embracing another son, and not a member of the Russian mob. He hugged her back in the same familial manner, like an elder son would to a mother he truly loved.

"Have a seat, please. Are you hungry?" Tiffany grinned up at him and patted his biceps. "Have these gotten bigger, I can't tell anymore."

Daniel coughed lightly. "No, Tiff. I'm fine." His eyes transformed glacial – as if they weren't already fucking dead looking – and assessed Sam and I. "I'm here to talk about some important business. That okay with everyone?"

Instantly, Sam's back shot out straighter. My fingers slowly roved over the fabric of the couch, until they found his. He twined our hands together.

Tiffany shifted uneasily. "Okay..." she laughed a little off-kilter. "What's going on?"

Danny strode past her and dropped his strong frame in a single seat sofa across from Sam and I.

The gold hardware of the chair was a stark contrast against Danny's character, and he looked like a ruthless king sitting atop his throne when he crossed his ankle over his knee and reclined back. "You might want to be seated for this, Tiffany."

His folded his hands over his abs and appraised her with a calculating gaze.

Tiffany cocked an eyebrow and matched Danny's expression when she came to sit next to Sam and I. Now all three of us resembled a horde of bad children lined in front of their principal, awaiting punishment.

A frisson ran through me as I watched Danny's face morph from calculated boredom to quiet anger when he intoned, "When the fvck were you going to tell me Tiffany isn't your real name?"

* * *

Tiffany's eyes bulged out. 

For the first time since I met her, a new facet emerged. One that wasn't so motherly and charming. One that embodied a wary individual with secrets, trying to hide their dirt from the world. It was the subtle way her jaw ticked, and the way she didn't back down from Danny's glare, despite the deflated quality of her spine.

"I don't follow, Daniel," she pressed through gritted teeth. She was still sitting like a lady with her legs crossed but now her foot had stopped dancing to a beat, and her fingers had a slight twitch to them.

Sam was as frozen as a Greek status, but at least he was still breathing. I was the only one reacting like a normal person, wondering what the fuck was going on in this house.

"What is the meaning of this, Danny?" Sam asked, the quality of his voice somber.

Danny smirked bitterly, then removed the gun he kept hidden. He produced a knife as well and slammed both weapons on the glass-top coffee table in front of us. The sound mirrored the final nail in a coffin.

All three of us jerked.

I suddenly felt uncomfortable in my own skin. I felt like I was invading something I shouldn't be a part of.

The tension in the room was so thick and palpable you almost couldn't take a breath without inhaling something akin to poison - a mixture of sin, guilt and these people's secrets, perhaps.

Danny laughed but the sound was humourless. "This is me. I've never once lied. You accepted me into your home, Tiffany, knowing full well what I was and with whom I'm affiliated. In all these years, I've never once hurt you. In fact, I tried my best to protect."

"I know, Daniel," Tiffany ushered calmly.

Danny rolled his shoulders back and set his hard gaze beyond us. There was a distant glaze to his soulless eyes, and if you didn't blink, for a split second, they looked alive. "I spotted some Italians in the city. Mafioso, to be specific. Two days ago, at the dock when I was with Vas and Lac. Not too old but not too young either. Said their names were Damiano and Dante. Ever heard of them?"

Tiffany's breath hitched. "No."

Danny growled and got up from his position on the chair, a thundering expression booming on his face. "Look at me!" He pointed a finger at a fresh-looking scar, a nasty thin line near his neck. His eyes were wild with fury. I flinched. The skin was raised, and it look like it must have hurt. "Look at how close they got! Vas and Lac barely escaped. Imagine my fvcking surprise when these two mafiosos were searching for information on Viviana. Insisting that I knew Viviana and that they were here for business, according to their father."

Tiffany got up on shaky feet and tried to reach out for Danny, tears welling in her eyes when she saw his healing wound. "Danny, listen to me. Please."

He raised a hand and backed away. Sam instantly got up and put himself between his mother and Danny, holding her behind him.

"They almost made me lose a dealing and they had the audacity to not only shoot up my business partners, but nearly injure Lac and Vas. I would have killed them in a heartbeat, but I had my suspicions when they mentioned the name Rinaldi. Said they were from New York and that they would be back if they needed more information on where you where. Rinaldi. That's why I left them alive. I got my men to dig up some dirt and imagine how I felt when I got my hands on official documents stating your real name. Viviana Rinaldi. You're not born in Vancouver. You were raised in New York City. You were born in Sicily," he spat out, and I saw spit flying out. "No more lies. I want the truth. Who the fuck is Tiffany?"

Sam's mother went utterly, scarily still. 

"C'mon, Tiff. Show me some of that reputable Rinaldi temper some have had the misfortune of crossing. I'm familiar with it. Remember three years ago when I went to New York on business and had a run-in with the Rinaldi soldiers. How they broke my arm for no damn reason other than the fact that I was a Russian who'd made the mistake of being in the wrong territory at the wrong time? How I flew back to Vancouver and came to your place. How you nursed me and consoled me when I told you what happened. You acted like you had no idea who the fuck they were. You fucking lied to me straight to my face! Tell me the damn truth now!"

Sam's mother seemed to collapse back on her heels, tears streaming down her face. "Tiffany is my middle name. I never lied. I just omitted some truths." Sam's looked like he'd seen a ghost, his face blanching. "I wanted to protect my children. I had no choice. I had to leave, or they would find me. Daniel, I never meant to hurt anyone. I was trying to run away from my past."

"Your past is the reason we're here. Your past is the reason why my uncle might kill me and hurt my sister!" he screamed. "Stephania was supposed to be safe! I tried to keep her safe from this bloodshed. You know how this world is Tiffany. There's no room for mistakes or regrets. One wrong move and there's a bullet through your head. But I suppose you knew that," he laughed darkly. "It's why you ran away after all. You should have told me the truth. Why did you lie to me, Tiffany?" He gestured at his knife and gun. "I've been truthful to you from the moment I first crossed your threshold. You treated me like a son."

Tiffany or Viviana reached a shaky hand towards Danny. Sam didn't even try to stop her. "I was born into that world, Danny. But I never belonged there. I wanted to give my children the normal life I yearned for. So, I ran away when I was pregnant with Ravenna. I...I met David here when I changed my name and left Viviana behind twenty-three years ago. I was supposed to start over here, in this city, where I had no ties to the bad men in my family."

"Of course. Vancouver. There were no Sicilians when you came here. At least, not enough to do you damage."

"I was trying to run away from my past, Danny. I couldn't let Ravenna grow up there."

"And now it all caught up to you," his voice was defeated and hoarse when he spoke. His eyes were brimming with water. "You should have told me the truth, Tiffany. I love you like you are one of my own. I could have better protected you, but you put me in jeopardy. You may not be bound by an omertà , but I fvcking am!"

"I'm sorry," she was crying.

Sam looked at me and I was silent. His frantic, pleading expression bounced between the two eldest figures in the room. "I don't understand what's happening."

Danny threw his head back and gazed skyward as if controlling his pain and tears. "Tell me the truth, Viviana. I saw your boarding pass. You never went to Florida. You lied. You were in New York City. I know what you were doing there, but I want you to say it."

"You're crossing a line, Danny. You shouldn't be invading my privacy like that."

Danny laughed again. "Privacy, Tiffany? I would have been fucking dead two days ago if it weren't for the guns I was carrying and for my men! Fuck your privacy; I want answers."

"I can't tell you, Danny. The less you know, the better," she said, hiccupping. Mascara streaks marred her beautiful complexion.

Danny whipped off his jacket and tossed it to a nearby couch. He tugged a hand through his hair before kicking the nearest piece of furniture, which just so happened to be the coffee-table. Two mugs broke. I was the only one who let out a squeak. Sam was no longer part of this conversation, he was just frozen.

"I already know too much, Tiffany. Like Damiano and Dante are Salvatore Donati's sons. They know you were there."

"No," she broke out. "It can't be. I was careful when I went to New York City."

"Apparently, you weren't careful enough. More than one person got wind of your little visit, Viviana. The last thing I need is trouble with the Italians. If my uncle finds out that I messed around with Donati's daughter, he'll put my head on a fucking pike like a trophy. Sergio Ivanov only tolerated my association with you, because he's under the impression you have no ties to anyone of concern. You're outsiders in his eyes."

"What does he mean 'Donati's daughter'?" Sam barked, snapping back to life and taking a step towards his mother. "Mama, what is he talking about?"

Tiffany had a hand on her throat as if she was trying to force reign on her emotions. Her eyes met mine and I saw the apology as clear as day. This wasn't how our morning was supposed to go. But I could do nothing but stare back, because I had no words for this mess.

"You want to tell him why you call him 'Principe'?" Danny said. "Want to tell him what he really is?"

"What are you talking about?" Sam's head swivelled in confusion towards Danny. "Who is this Donati man?"

"Salvatore Donati is the most powerful man in New York City. He's the don, Sam. Ever heard of the five families? They run everything that's unholy under God's sun in New York City. Salvatore Donati is the capo di tutti capi. Boss of all bosses. You don't fvck with him, his sons, or their large empire."

Oh, God.

I saw this train wreck before it happened. When Tiffany said she'd met David after she was already pregnant with her first born daughter...

"What does this have to do with my family?" Sam's ravaged expression killed me, and I felt helpless because I could only watch this shit-show crumble in front of me.

"You want to tell him or should I, Tiff?" Danny gave Tiffany one leveled look, his throat working with emotions. He got his answer. Then he directed his sad eyes at my boyfriend. "I ran your blood work, Sam. Tapped into other DNA shit, too. David Adams isn't your biological father."

Sam took a step back, faltering. He, too, laughed, and it sounded crazy. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

I wanted to get up and comfort Sam, but I felt like I had no place in this matter.

Danny fell back in the sofa that started this whole thing, staring at the ground like it could open up and swallow him whole. "Salvatore Donati's father was your father's consigliere when he was the boss, wasn't he Viviana?" He lifted his dead eyes and aimed them at Sam. "Salvatore was your mother's childhood sweetheart, Rafael."

Sam's mom continued to cry silently. The woman who'd looked so regal and poised as she served us breakfast was long gone. In her place, I saw a fallen, dethroned queen.

"And he's Ravenna's father. Yours, too. Biologically," he finished quietly. "Viviana is still regarded as Mafia royalty in New York."

Sam fell beside Danny, stun and numb. "Mama. Tell me this isn't true."

Tiffany slid down the wall until she landed with her knees raised. She couldn't look away from her son. "I never could tell you how much you resembled him," her voice and face shattered at the same time. "My children were special. So special they would have been important pieces in a chess game I needed to leave behind, Rafe," she cried. "I loved Ravenna too much to subject her to my fate. You, too. You're a principe della mafia, Rafe, and I had to keep you hidden because it's the only way you'd be safe."

Sam's body was trembling.

His mom looked at him with so much love. "I should have known that no matter how much I run away, it would have caught up with me. But trouble always finds you, too, no?"

Sam lacked words, so he turned to me in search. I, too, had nothing for him, except for speechlessness. Sam's father wasn't David Adams. Sam's mother was part of something dangerous and dark, just like Danny.

I wish I had something, anything, to comfort him, but I didn't. 

"Mio figlio always finds himself in trouble, too. I knew something was up when you came home injured weeks ago. Richard called me yesterday... I was waiting for you to say something."

"Yes, mama," Sam answered with a watery expression as his masculine neck worked with a swallow. "I guess I am. I should have come clean."

"Mio figlio's in trouble with bad men, isn't he? Doesn't matter how much I tried to protect you. I guess I'm to be blamed as well. I should have never let you fight for Richie. My past is tainted, Rafe. And now it might be tainting you."

"I don't think the Donald's men are linked to New York. They're just lowly scums scavenging for any jackpot they can find. I think it was your visit what brought down Rafael's brothers. I don't think Baxton wanting to fight him has anything to do with his blood relations to the Don. You hid Rafe well. I dug deeper than most, that's why I know who he belongs, too. The Donalds and their men don't. As far as the rest of the world is concerned, Samuel and Samantha belong to Tiffany and David Adams. Damiano and Dante didn't mention anything about Henry Donald or a fight. They seemed adamant on finding you for Sal. Now the question is: will he hurt you when he finds you?"

"No," she said with fierceness. "Salvatore would never lay a hurtful finger on me. He was always gentle when it came to me."

"No man with a gun is gentle, Viviana. I hate to break it to you."

"You know what I mean, Daniel."

"In other words, Salvatore Donati adores you too much to hurt you. I heard his wife passed away not too long ago. Maybe he's grieving. Maybe he wants to see his ex-lover, I presume?"

Viviana glanced away into the window. "Tor just wants to see me after all this time, I'm certain. But I don't have the strength to face him. I'm guilty. I hid Ravenna and Rafe from him."

"Tiff," Danny said. "Tell me why exactly you were in New York. I need answers, so I can protect anyone that needs protecting."

Tiffany's body shook with wracking sobs and she covered her face. I fell to my knees and crawled to her, and she instantly enveloped me in her arms. She could barely speak when she addressed Danny. "I w-went to see Andino. I went to see my grandfather, D-Daniel. I stepped foot in the city for the first time in over twenty years, because I found out he was s-sick. He's all I have left. I needed to see if he would remember me; he's so old now. He was never like the rest of the men in the famiglia, he wouldn't have sold me out. Andino just wanted to see my face after all this time."

"I'm sorry," Danny spoke to her and it was genuine. "I had no idea he was sick. I'm mad because I'm frustrated and I'm running out of cards to deal with this situation. I never meant to take it out on anyone, but you can't keep hiding the truth."

"I know. I didn't know things had gotten this bad – with you or Rafe." Sam's mom sniffed and looked at me. "Anna, I'm so sorry. I never wanted you to witness this. I bet you must think my family is crazy."

I swiped a thumb under her eyes and gave a fleeting smile in reply.

The tension in both men's body seemed to uncoil and they relaxed for a split second.

Because the same odd creaking noise from the house resonated one more time. Except this time, it was enough to catch my attention. It was enough for me to catch the silhouette coming down the staircase.

I screamed in horror.

Danny lurchedforward, grabbed his gun, and fired two successive shots at the intruder    

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A/N'S: The closer I'm getting to finishing this story, the harder time I'm having at writing it.

Questions: thoughts on Danny and Sam's sister? Sam's MOM?! The Mafioso ;) I literally wanted to add this 'twist' since I started the novel a few years ago. I promise this story will end with a big BANG.