DeLuca (Mafia Romance)

We found the letter Saturday afternoon. Frankie was sifting through a week’s worth of mail that had piled up on the kitchen counter when an envelope without a return address caught her eye.Original content from NôvelDrama.Org.

“Enzo,” she called out. Her voice had a panicked edge to it which caused me to rush out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel, my wet feet leaving a trail behind me.

“What is it?” I asked, my heart rate returning to normal when I saw no immediate danger. My relief didn’t last long once I noticed she was standing completely still, unnaturally so, as if she were afraid to even breathe. She raised a piece of paper in my direction with a trembling hand.

I took the letter from her and read it aloud.

Frankie,

Why are you doing this to us? He should not be there. He’s going to ruin everything. He’ll corrupt you, turn you against me. Do not listen to anything he says, he’s a liar! Your bodyguard will not keep me from you. I’m still watching. You are mine. You belong with me!

I’m coming for you.

“Let me see the envelope,” I barked out. She reached down to grab it from the pile of mail in front of her, but her hands were shaking so badly, she dropped it twice before finally handing it to me.

The envelope was postmarked five days ago from the same zip code as Frankie’s home address. I didn’t want to scare her more-so I didn’t mention it-but it had my stomach rolling. This psycho was close, and he’d been watching her so carefully that he was able to respond immediately after the first night I’d stayed over.

I snatched my phone off the counter and dialed Angelo. He picked up on the second ring. “Enzo?”

“Do you still have that contact in the police department?” I asked.

“Which one? I have a lot of contacts,” he replied lazily.

“Do not fuck with me right now!” I roared, causing Frankie to flinch.

Damn it.

I didn’t mean to scare her. I took a deep breath and continued through gritted teeth. “The forensics woman.”

“Mallory? Yeah, I’ve got her number. What’s going on?”

“He sent a letter.”

“Shit,” he responded, and I heard him relaying the information to someone in the background before he came back on the line. “Do you have any idea who it is?”

“No.”

“Okay. Carlo says to bring the letter to the compound, and we’ll have Mallory come over and check it out.”

“Yeah, we’ll head out there now,” I said and disconnected the call. Turning my attention back to Frankie, I noticed her face had gone white, except for her nose, which was bright red.

Shit.

“Hey,” I said, trying for a gentle tone, but my voice came out rough instead. I cleared my throat and tried again, “Frankie?”

“What did I do to deserve this?” she whispered, her voice cracking on the last word.

I rounded the counter and pulled her into my arms. “Shh, you didn’t do anything. Don’t worry, I’ll find out who it is. When I find him, I’ll make sure he can never get close to you again. I promise.”

Her arms squeezed tight around my waist and she started to sob. “I’m so scared,” she tearfully admitted.

“You’re safe; I’ve got you,” I whispered over and over again as I rubbed circles on her back.

Her tears eventually subsided, and when her breathing returned to normal, she pulled away from me, wiping her face with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. It was big on her, the sleeves falling well past her hands-it was a men’s hoodie. The realization had my jaw clenching painfully.

She sniffed, oblivious to my sudden burst of jealousy. “Dude, the rules still stand, go put some fucking clothes on!” she shouted, and I had to laugh. She may be scared, but she was still my Frankie.

After I was sufficiently dressed, I put the letter in a plastic bag and we headed out to the DeLuca compound to meet the others. Hopefully Angelo’s forensic friend, Mallory, could find something that would lead us to whomever the stalker was.

“I just don’t know who it could be,” Frankie whispered, interrupting the silence we’d been driving in for the past twenty minutes.

“It might be someone you’ve never even met before,” I said, chancing a glance at her. Her head was resting on the window and she was staring out at the trees as we raced down the highway.

“I don’t know. It feels so personal, like the person knows me or something.”

“Well, who knows how long he’s been watching you. You can learn a lot about a person from just paying attention.”

“He sent me roses and lilies, Enzo. Stargazer lilies.”

Fuck.

Dread filled my chest and bile rose up in the back of my throat. Whoever was doing this was closer than I’d thought. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked, trying not to sound angry, but I was furious. This could be just as much about me as it was about her.

“I don’t know, there was just so much going on, and then you dropped the ‘hey by the way we’re married’ bomb and I just didn’t think about it.”

“How did you know they weren’t from me?” I asked through a lump in my throat.

“It wasn’t my birthday,” she said sharply.

“Come on, I’ve sent you flowers when it wasn’t your birthday,” I argued.

She sighed heavily. “You use the same florist every time, you would never have them delivered to work, and you always write a card.”