Ava ran her hands over the smooth peanut-butter-colored leather of her steering wheel, put the car in gear and roared out of the parking garage. As she hit the road, she almost wished she could enjoy the night breeze. But with her living in Miami, Florida, that was the last thing she was going to do.
An open window was an invitation for a car jacking. And despite the fact that she carried a concealed weapon in her glove box, if she didn’t need to have a confrontation with someone, it was best to avoid it.
As Ava drove down the busy street, she glanced in her rearview mirror.
“Damn it.”
A police officer pulled into traffic behind her. She waited for the sound of sirens. In her previous life as Mrs. Joseph Martelli, cops had been a frequent presence, following her and Joseph everywhere they went. As the wife of a mob boss, their presence had been expected. As a private citizen, she wanted to be left alone. Annoyed with the cop tailing her, she turned down a side street. She’d get home another way. Ava was relieved when the car didn’t follow.
Twenty minutes later she turned into the long, serpentine driveway leading to her palatial estate. Every time Ava arrived home, she felt a sense of pride. This was hers. Not Joseph’s. Hers. After her husband’s death she’d sold the home they lived in and purchased this seven-bedroom, six-and-a-half-bath palace. It also had two small guesthouses attached. She wasn’t like some of these celebrities. She’d purchased the house outright. It was hers forever. She pressed the remote to open her garage and waited a moment before driving in.
Letting the garage down behind her, she parked the car and killed the ignition. Home at last. She unlocked the door leading into the house and disarmed the alarm for a moment. Once she was inside with the door safely locked, she armed the security system again.
Sighing, she allowed herself to finally relax in the protected sanctuary of her home. In for the night. Walking down the hallway that lead to the living room, Ava noticed the stillness of the house. She’d worked late again. Of course her daughter and her evening nanny had turned in for the night.
The ringing of the doorbell startled Ava. She looked down at her watch. It was almost ten. Who could that be? Gritting her teeth, she disarmed the alarm system and looked through the small peephole of the door. A dark-haired man was standing outside. She had no idea who he was.
Picking up the police baton she always kept near the door, Ava undid the locks and opened it.
“Can I help you?”
“Yeah. You can. I’m Joseph’s son.”
Chapter Three
Ava stared at the man standing in front of her. Forest-green eyes. Midnight-black hair. Olive skin. She noticed the hint of shadow around his square jaw. Even though he appeared to be in his twenties, there was a hardness in his eyes that belied his youthfulness.
“Excuse me?”
“Joseph Martelli was my father.”
“I’m not aware of my late husband having any other children.”
“Apparently there was a lot you weren’t aware of.”
Ava moved to slam the door, but she never got the chance. Pressing a broad shoulder into the doorway, the man forced the door open and stepped inside.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Ava’s grip on the baton tightened. She took a swing, but he caught the baton and held it. Ava tried to free it from his grasp, but she couldn’t.
“Is this how you treat every guest that comes to your home?” he asked with a smirk.
“Just the uninvited ones. Now get out before I’m forced to resort to something worse than this baton.”
“I hope you wield that better than you do this.”
He let go of the baton and took a step back. Ava watched him warily. Well he hasn’t tried to attack me. Does he really mean me no harm?
“Since you’ve invited yourself into my home, please tell me what this is all about.”
“I already told you. My father. Your late husband.”
“And I already told you, my late husband had no children besides my daughter.”
“Your husband was a crime boss. Surely you can’t be that naïve,” he said, folding his arms.
“What’s your name?” Ava asked.
“Dominic.”
“Dominic what?”
“Martelli.”
“So you’re sticking to your story?”
“It’s not a story. It’s the truth.”
“If that’s the case, then why didn’t Joseph ever bother to mention you?”
“I’m sure bringing up the fact that he fathered a child with another woman wasn’t a subject he was going to discuss with his wife. But I’m his son. You can look at me and tell.”
“You look nothing like Joseph, so whatever scam you’re trying to pull is not going to work.”
Dominic shook his head, giving her a brief smile before reaching into the pocket of his leather jacket. Ava watched him as he pulled out a folded piece of paper. He held it out to her.
“What’s this?” Ava asked.
“Just look at it.”
Ava took the piece of paper from his hand. Setting the police baton down, she opened the paper up. It was a color copy of a photograph. Joseph’s face stared up at her. He was smiling. She rarely ever saw him smile. Next to him was a woman. Her dark hair and olive skin had to mean she was Italian. She was smiling too. Ava noticed the faint lines around her eyes and the laugh lines around her mouth as she smiled. Next to the woman was Dominic. There was no mistaking his face, even though he appeared a few years younger. There was frostiness in his gaze.
“This is a picture. So what?”
“It’s a picture of me with my parents. Carmella and Joseph. It was taken three years ago.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“You’ve got proof in your hand and you still refuse to accept the truth? Don’t tell me you were actually in love with my old man.”
“My relationship with my husband is none of your business. And it’s going to take a hell of a lot more than a picture to convince me that Joseph was your father.”
“Look, my mother was Joseph’s mistress long before you ever entered the picture.”
“That doesn’t mean you’re his kid.”
“I had a feeling you wouldn’t be receptive.”
“Would you be if some stranger showed up at your home at night claiming to be the offspring of your spouse? I don’t think so.”
“I’m a man. Such things don’t surprise me, but it seems you on the other hand are greener than I thought.”
“What do you want?” She could feel the start of a migraine coming on.
“My inheritance.”
Ava laughed. He’s insane. He has to be insane. An inheritance?
“You show up claiming to be Joseph’s son and now you want his money. You’re out of your mind,” Ava said.
She threw the picture down on the floor.
“I am Joseph’s son.”
“I don’t care if you are or not. He never acknowledged you in life or in his will. My daughter is his heir. Everything Joseph had belongs to her and that’s the way things are going to stay.”
“I’m not going away.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“No. I’m just making you a promise.”
“Get out and don’t come back.”
“I’ll be in touch,” Dominic said.
He walked past her and out of her house without a backwards glance. Ava shut the door behind him, locking it before she re-activated the alarm. Locked away once again, she leaned against the door. The photograph she’d dropped lay on the floor.
“Damn you, Joseph. I hope you’re in hell where you belong.”
Regardless of Dominic’s insinuations she wasn’t naïve. Ava was well aware that Joseph had never believed in fidelity. She herself had been his mistress for more years than she liked to admit before he married her. Ava also knew that after their marriage he hadn’t been faithful. It came with the life of being a crime boss. So no, she wasn’t harboring any illusions about her deceased husband. She knew exactly who Joseph Martelli had been. If he’d fathered a child with someone else he would’ve told her. Wouldn’t he?