Legacy of Lies - The Thrilling Second Novel In the Capitani Series

By Kimberly R. Cimorelli

The second book in the Capitani Series begins with a grieving Sloan Capitani. It's been nearly a year since her husband Van was fatally shot, and she's since had a crash course in the family business. Little does she know that soon, she'll also receive a crash course on faking your own death. When Van Capitani appears out of nowhere, she feels like her prayers have finally been answered. Instead, his homecoming turns out to be the beginning of her worst nightmare. Friends, Family, and Love all go out the window, in this lusty sequel to "A Vegas Monarchy."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Mar 1, 2020
• ISBN: 9781678184148

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Legacy of Lies - The Thrilling Second Novel In the Capitani Series

Legacy of Lies

The Thrilling Second Novel in the Capitani Series

Legacy of Lies

by Kimberly R. Cimorelli

Published by

K R Cimorelli

Legacy of Lies

© 2012, Kimberly R. Cimorelli.  All Rights Reserved

ISBN 978-1-67818-414-8

Published by K R Cimorelli

First Edition: 2012

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited in any form. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

Chapter 1

Moving On

You are just so beautiful! 

My eyes turned sharply back to the handsome man sitting across the table at me, and I smiled graciously.  I realized that as my elbows were on the table, and my hands were clasped up in front of my lips, my body language was anything but inviting.  Instantly, I lowered my arms beneath the table.  Thank you, I accepted politely, before my eyes flitted about the décor around us in the elegant and bustling restaurant. 

Tell me about yourself, he beckoned, leaning forward.  I want to know all about you.

I hated first dates.  I hated investing time in someone, and making the effort to get to know them, with nothing to ever come of it.  I took a sip of chardonnay and inhaled deeply.  What would you like to know? 

He shrugged.  His dark eyes sparkled from the candle rested between us on our tiny, intimate table.  He really was a great-looking guy.  An investment banker.  He worked out, ate healthy, took good care of himself… He just seemed like an all-around good guy.  I brushed a crumb that fell from the bowl of bread from the white linen tablecloth.  The place reminded me of the reception hall for my wedding.  I don't know.  Everything!  How is a woman like you single? What a cheesy, but valid question.

This is actually my first date in a few years, I divulged, trying to keep myself focused on him, instead of awkwardly looking about the surrounding tables of families and couples enjoying themselves and each other. 

How is that?  He looked astonished.  Maybe I wasn’t ready for this, after all.

Well, I was married, I answered, as if it should’ve been common knowledge.

Now he looked doubly surprised.  Wow, really?  But you don’t look that old!

I’m twenty-three.

His eyes narrowed.  This was where the fun began.  That’s so young!  How old were you when you got married?

I was just about to turn twenty-two.

What happened?  Why did you divorce?

We didn’t.  I cocked my head slightly.

He shook his head.  You guys are separated?

He was murdered.  His eyes looked like they were going to fall out of his head completely.  I pretty much expected this reaction.  I didn’t blame him.  I wouldn’t even be the least bit offended if you ran screaming from this table right now, I chuckled at his stunned facial expression.  Really, it’s cool.  Go ahead, I gestured for the door.

He sat back in his chair.  Murdered?  By whom.

By some gang boss, allegedly, I caught myself twirling my wine glass atop the table.  Hell, I think I earned the right to fidget, at this point.  Anyway, we don’t have to talk about it, I muttered self-consciously.

No, it’s fine.  Do you—did you—have any kids together?

Now it was my turn to sit back, feeling slightly overwhelmed.  Did I not think stuff like this might come up?  I was pregnant when he was murdered.  Several shots were fired, and one pierced my stomach, so…  I flicked my eyes away from him. 

You lost the baby?  His voice was gentle.  I nodded solemnly.  It was definitely something I just wasn’t prepared to talk about, yet.

This really isn't first date talk, I brushed aside with a nervous laugh.  I self-consciously brushed back a tendril of my dark, straightened hair that was threatening to hang in my face. 

Well, he spoke trying to brighten the tone of his voice.  All that matters is we’re here now, right?  Coming from the guy who hadn’t been subjected to the last year of depression, guilt, and mourning.  But I had to cut him some slack. 

Right, I agreed, forcing a smile.  Then I brought my wine to my lips. 

So where now, from here? 

My eyebrow rose automatically by his question.  What do you mean?

You were dealt a pretty crappy hand.  You've mourned.  You've paid your dues.  You're young.  You have so much ahead of you.  What's the next thing in your life you want to tackle?

I pondered his question for a moment.  Young as I might've been, there wasn't much left for me to experience, in life-turning events. 

I want to grow old, drink beer on my front porch, and tell the neighborhood kids to get off my lawn, I answered matter-of-factly, evoking a laugh from him, which in turn caused me to chuckle.  Really though, I don't want much.  I'm just looking forward to finding happiness again.  If it was still out there for me. 

I floated through the rest of the date.  It felt no different than it did floating through the last year of my life.  After we parted ways from the restaurant where I insisted on driving myself and meeting him there, I sat in the parking garage to the luxurious resort I called home, and took a deep breath.  I just wasn’t ready to let anyone in, yet. 

Sometimes, when I felt sociable, I walked through the casino floor to reach the elevator.  It felt nice having the employees there greet me with a nod and a smile.  Even some of the locals who frequented the blackjack tables or slot machines knew me.  But tonight, I just wasn’t feeling it.  So I took the back door, landing me right at the elevator, where I went to the top floor.  My stilettos were silenced by the carpet beneath my feet as I walked all the way to the last door on the left.  Home.

I opted to leave the light off; instead allowing the stunning scenery of The Las Vegas Strip down below to lend some of its pulsating light as my backdrop.  I slipped out of my shoes, leaving them at the door, and my feet were cold against the floor as I walked.  I stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows that lined the entire outer wall of my condo, and I was jealous at all the obliviously happy people wandering up and down the sidewalks of the strip.  Vegas was a place where people came to let loose, and completely abandon their inhibitions.  For people like me, it was simply home.

The knock at my door was halfway expected.  If you really listen, you can hear the doors to the condos immediately nearby close shut.  I opened the door to find an eager Angela at the door.  She was beaming me her prettiest, anxious smile.  So?  She walked in and I followed her over to the couch, where she sat down and eyed me expectantly.  How did it go?  You’re home early.  She glanced at her watch.  I know – it’s only ten o’clock.

He was nice, I shrugged, getting comfortable and tucking my feet beneath me. 

And? 

I’m just not sure I’m ready, I cringed, causing her immediately to roll her eyes.

You need to get back out there, she urged.  You are just rotting away between here and your father’s house, and you need to get back out there and enjoy the world, she advised firmly.

It’s only been a year, I moaned.

Slightly over a year, she corrected.  I’m proud of you for going out there and giving this guy a chance – what was his name?

Joe.

I’m glad you gave Joe a chance.

You made me, I reminded her.  She did!  We were out getting drinks and when he showed interest, she talked me into asking for his number.  Then she stole my phone and texted him from it. 

I did not.

You said you weren’t going to speak to me for a month if I cancelled this date, I reminded her with a laugh.

She shrugged.  We both know I can’t go a month without talking to you, she pointed out with a sly grin. 

Well, I did it.  And it’s too soon.

You need to get laid.

Ugh, I absolutely do not.  I shook my head and directed my gaze back out over the twinkling lights.  I’m happy with the way things are.  I think I’m meant to be alone.

We’re twenty-three years old.  We don’t know what’s meant to be, yet, she cracked.

I feel like I’ve lived enough to be ninety-four, I spoke quietly.

Her sympathetic look only validated my remark.  Was he nice?

Yes.

Respectful?  Did he open doors for you?  My heart sank.  He did open the door leaving the restaurant.  Her question only reminded me how Van opened every single door, including car doors, for me every time I was in his presence.  A chivalrous luxury he spoiled me with. 

He was a really nice guy.  I swung my eyes back up to meet hers.  Really nice.  My smile was sad.

Nice isn't what gets us hot, she muttered thoughtfully.

Not us.

Every day I contemplated selling that condo, which belonged to my husband.  But I couldn’t bring myself to do it.  I probably should.  Nothing about being there helped me to move on.  It was where he lived when I met him.  It was where the majority of our short whirlwind romance had taken place.  I’d seen so many things that spanned from exciting to horrific in that beautiful space.  In my eyes though, it was a piece of Van that I just couldn’t get rid of. 

As was the house my father left behind when he passed away, just days before my husband.  I couldn’t get rid of that, either.

So much death.  So much heartache.  I avoided looking in the mirror after my daily showers.  If my eyes did happen to catch the scar from where that bullet entered my stomach, an inevitable wince would always escape me.  It was a forever-reminder of all that I lost.  I didn’t even want to touch it. 

After my best friend of several years left me to go back to her condo next door, where she resided with my brother-in-law, my bed was calling my name.  Joe was nice, but he wasn’t Van.  No one before Van had the ability to excite me as much as he did, and I hadn’t encountered a single soul since then who could command my attention the way he had. 

I wondered, as I drifted off to sleep, if I would ever be able to move forward with my life.

Chapter 2

A Celebration

I walked up the front stoop, to enter the beautiful home Van's parents resided in.  There were many people there already, and the sound of their voices chattering filled the air.  Van’s mother greeted me with her kind eyes and bright smile.  She gave me a hug, and her husband Gus was right behind her to do the same.  Thank you so much for hosting this party for us, I gushed to them both.  I know it means a lot to Gage.  He’s been bragging about it for weeks.

It’s a big thing—graduating high school, Gus pulled out a stack of hamburger patties from the fridge.  We’re proud of him.  So was I. 

The commencement ceremony was beautiful, Greta commented.  Van was the last one we had that graduated, and at the time, his class was so tiny they just held it in the school auditorium, she spoke.  I can’t believe the classes have grown so much!

Is Piper coming?

I looked to Gus and shrugged.  She hasn’t returned my texts or phone calls, but I’m sure she wouldn’t miss this.  Our sister might’ve been pretty neglectful and uncaring about a great many things, but when it came to our brother Gage, she was rarely a no-show. 

The relationship I had with Gus and Greta was more than just a family bond.  Although, that in itself was something I was eternally grateful for.  Having no family left, us three siblings were taken in by the Capitanis with open arms when Van and I first got together.  They still treated us like their own, and in times like this, when they hosted important affairs in honor of my brother and sister’s birthdays, or achievements, it meant so much to all of us. 

We were also business partners.  In Van’s passing, everything he had – the condo, his car, and then his share of businesses scattered all over the country– made me an instant millionaire.  It also put me in a spot of co-owning resorts spanning from Reno to Atlantic City, in addition to some strip clubs I didn’t necessarily know about prior to marrying my husband, and two bars in Los Angeles. 

That, and I was the only female amongst the Capitani men who had a hand in any of their business ventures.  For the most part, that was okay.  It was Van’s brother Jionni who had a problem with it all, and never made any bones about letting me know that.  In the beginning, I knew absolutely nothing about running a business.  It was something I was forced to learn, the moment Van's life was taken.  Now, I felt like a pro at making decisions, or looking over ledgers. 

When my busty, blonde best friend walked through the door with her very buff, meat-head boyfriend Jionni, she hurried right over to me with a smile for a light hug.  Does it feel like your kid is finally grown up?  Her question sparked a twinge of sadness in the pit of my stomach that I didn’t expect her to understand. 

I managed a smile, and it was then that I spotted my little brother and his girlfriend Sammi walking through the front door.  The cheers and chatter welcoming and congratulating Gage and his girlfriend for both of them graduating warmed my heart.  They were both good kids who had good things ahead of them.  When Piper straggled in right behind them looking a little awkward, I felt myself stiffen at the sight of her.  This would be the first time I’d seen her since Van’s funeral.

Jionni was happy to see her.  I suppose he would be.  She brought in a good amount of money for the family.  Myself included, I suppose.  Her summer dress was brightly colored, and dipped down to accentuate the new breasts she'd bought for herself.  She was thinner than the last time I saw her.  Or maybe the ample size of her new assets made the rest of her look tinier.  She had a few more tattoos on her, now.  This didn't surprise me.  Gage turned around and gave her a hug.  Her eyes briefly landed upon me, but then she quickly looked away.  I simply turned and disappeared into the kitchen, where Angela and Greta were pulling dishes and bowls of food out of the refrigerator to set out. 

Piper just arrived, I muttered, just loud enough for them to hear. 

Which is good, Greta pointed out.  She is supportive of her brother.  Greta always was the voice of reason.

Angela peeked around the corner and then returned to helping us.  She looks like she’s dressed for work, she frowned.

It’s never too late to save a lost soul. 

I looked to my wise mother-in-law.  This time, I had to disagree.  You can’t help someone that doesn’t want to be saved.

True story, Angela spoke. 

Family never gives up on family, Greta stated with a stern look that was cast at both of us.  That goes for both of you, she pointed at us.  You’re both daughters I never had.  For such a petite little lady, Greta’s presence was formidable.  Everyone in this family possessed a kind of presence that was hard not to get intimidated by.  Both of you are strong, intelligent, independent ladies.  There’s nothing stopping you from trying to be a positive influence.

I did literally feel like I was getting scolded by my mother.  Her dark eyes gave us both a look of warning, before she walked off from us to go greet my sister.  Greta reeked of class and elegance, and it brilliantly shone through everything she did, the way she carried herself, and the way she dressed.  Even the home she made for her family of rough-and-tumble men was regal and inviting.  Family meant everything to this Italian family.  Respect, love, loyalty and honesty were more than just words to them-- it was their way of life.  It was something I adapted to and tried to live by, but I wasn’t good at it all the time.  This was especially apparent when I looked at my now twenty year-old sister.  My sister, who dropped out of high school halfway through her senior year to pursue a career stripping.  In a club that the Capitani brothers co-owned, no less.  We had given her a full ride to cosmetology school.  Hell, she threw that away, too.  She was addicted to the high she got from men wanting her.  She always did seek out attention.  It was something I couldn’t control when I looked after her – not when I spent all my time working to pay the household bills and taking care of our ill father.  Maybe if our mother had chosen to stick around and actually raise us, instead of taking off when we were all kids, Piper might’ve turned out different. 

But maybe not. 

Under Greta’s urging and scrutiny, I made my way into the living room where everyone was gathered, and I strode confidently towards my sister, taking notice of how she literally froze as I approached.  Taking her by complete surprise, I leaned in and gave her a hug.  I’m glad you made it today, I told her.  She smelled of sweet perfume and shampoo.  Her hair was longer than the last time I saw her. 

Thanks, she replied uncomfortably.

How are you?

She couldn’t shake her discomfort.  I’m okay.

Still living in that house with your friends?

She shook her head.  I’m living with my boyfriend now.

I looked around her.  She hadn’t come in with anyone.  Where is he?

He’ll be here later.  He had some things to take care of.

That sounded familiar.  Is he a Capitani? I joked.

A small laugh escaped her.  Actually, yes.  I wasn’t entirely surprised.  Jionni’s cousin.  He’s an assistant manager at the club. 

Do I know him?

Tommy, she answered.  How could I have missed this?  I flicked my eyes towards Gage, wondering if he were in-the-know regarding Piper's latest boyfriend.  Sure, I knew him.  Good-looking kid.  All the men in the family were good-looking in their own right.  Half of them were buff like Jionni and looked like they could be bodyguards or bouncers.  The other half were lean and toned, like Van was.  All the men were gifted with beautiful blue eyes.  The women—aunts, uncles, and even Greta—had eyes as dark as a pool of black ink.  You need to not be such a stranger, I spoke lightly, managing a smile that came off a little awkwardly as well.  It shouldn’t be like this between us.  We should do dinner sometime this week.  At the condo.  You can bring your boyfriend, I suggested brightly.

Yeah?  She looked like the idea enticed her. 

I nodded.  Yeah.  It’ll be fun.

Okay.  I’m off Monday night, she put out there.

Monday it is.

It was a start, anyway. 

I couldn’t help but notice my two sisters chatting, Gage approached me later on with a crooked smile on his handsome face.

When did you get so much taller than me? I joked, looking up at him.  Stop growing!

You’re just a midget, he cracked.  Everything good between you two?  I didn’t see any hair-pulling, or shanks.

Funny.  I invited her over to dinner, actually.  I gave him a smug look.  He looked genuinely surprised.  You and Sammi are more than welcome to join us Monday at the condo.

You’re cooking?  That in itself is worth seeing.

I might order take-out, I smirked. 

That’s the Sloan I know, he laughed.  Yea, we’ll be there.

The gathering at the Capitani home lasted until nearly three in the morning, with all of us ending up seated outside on the patio drinking beer and laughing at old stories of when Van and Jionni were kids.  It was bittersweet.  I loved learning all that I could about the man who stole my heart, and apparently still had it.  But he wasn’t here for me to tease him, or squeeze his hand when a funny story was being told, or to offer a rebuttal at his family. 

All that remained was the emptiness in my heart, and a cold bed when I finally went home.

Chapter 3

Homecoming

Joe wanted to see me again.  Out of sheer boredom and feeling like I absolutely had to make some sort of effort to connect with someone, I agreed to see him.  And even though I let him come pick me up, I didn’t ask him to come inside.  I just grabbed my purse and ran out the door.  He looked nice, though.  Wow, I didn’t know people lived in these places, he remarked as we walked to the elevator.  Not to be rude, but how much do these things run?

There are some beautiful condos in this resort.  They start at around two hundred and fifty grand, I rattled off. You can upgrade them however you like, and they'll personalize it to make it pretty much brand new for the buyer.  I stopped myself, realizing I sounded like I was trying to sell him on the place.  That wasn’t lost on him, either.

You say that like you work for the place, he chuckled, stepping into the elevator.

I don’t work here.  I own it.

The doors closed, and he was very obviously blown away by this startling piece of information.  You continue to amaze me, he marveled.  Why do I suddenly feel inadequate? He laughed.

Don’t, I smirked.  It’s really not a big deal.

Says the Princess of the Las Vegas Strip, he quipped with a wink.

Ha!  Well, at least we were off to an entertaining start.  He drove a nice car.  He dressed nicely.  He was polite, and all-around a nice guy.  Everything about him was nice.  What do you do for kicks?  I pressed at dinner as I finished my first glass of wine.  Do you have any bad habits?  Are you always so nice?  I laughed, causing him to contemplate my question. 

I’m just a regular, normal guy, he replied.  I like to go have dinner and drinks in the evenings when I can find someone whose company is worthwhile.  Or, if I’m at home with my dogs, I enjoy relaxing with a beer in front of the television, he answered flawlessly.  He recited it like he read that straight off of a personals ad.  Did he have no mischievous bone in his body?

There has to be something wrong with you, I teased, as the waiter brought me another glass of wine.  Do you have a kinky fetish, or an affinity for porn?  Do you kick small furry animals around?  Do you make fun of babies, or people with disabilities? 

He looked almost offended.  No!  None of that!  I was pretty disappointed. 

Do you sometimes wear the same clothes more than twice without washing them?

He cringed.  Absolutely not.

Where’s your wild side? I probed playfully, taking another drink.  And another drink.  He had no wild side.  He was squeaky-clean.  Enough to bore me if I didn’t keep drinking.  But I was having fun — even if it was at his expense.  He was a good sport about it.  If nothing else, at least he was eyeing me like he genuinely wanted to get in my pants. 

Maybe he wasn’t such an innocent boy behind bedroom doors.

He walked me up to my door after dinner.  Like a good boy.  I was fuzzy from four glasses of wine that I brazenly gulped down, and I knew this wasn’t going to go anywhere.  I knew in the grand scheme of things, this boy would serve as a rebound, and a rebound only.  You wanna come inside? I asked, flicking my eyes up at him suggestively.

He took the bait. 

His lips were stiff.  His kiss was mechanical.  His hands aimlessly roamed.  I tried to be aggressive.  When I tore at his shirt, he paused my hands and chastised me for almost ripping the buttons.  He insisted on removing it himself, and just watching him undress himself made me second-guess this already bad decision.  Still I let him proceed anyway.

You are so beautiful, he murmured, nuzzling his face in my neck.  Stop calling me that!  I reached down and my hands were at his trousers, frantically working at his belt and zipper to unleash the only part of him I was the least bit interested in.  He better look good naked.  He was thin, but he wasn’t really toned, like I prefer.  Whatever.  I got flustered when I reached between us to find that he wasn’t even fully turned on.  What the Hell!?  My patience was wearing thin.  Then he kept whispering sweet nothings in my ear that I tried to tune out.  I didn’t want any part of them.  I just needed to remember what the touch of a man felt like, and he was ruining even that!

Sex with him was slow, and methodical.  It was like a meticulously thought-out process for him, when I wanted to just be tossed around in the lusty throes of passion.  Like what I was used to.  Hell, it was even like that with the only other serious boyfriend I had before Van!  But this guy?  I could’ve literally fallen asleep while he rhythmically thrust in and out of me.  It lacked spice.  It lacked spontaneity. 

It was downright disappointing. 

Afterward, he looked at me starry-eyed, and I froze when he gave me the lightest, gentlest kiss I’d ever encountered.  Then he draped his arm around me and drifted off to sleep.  After laying there agonizing over the regretful decision I had made by inviting him in, I mercifully did the same.

Good Morning, Beautiful.

I thought I was dreaming.  I moaned, and instantly wanted to snap at him not to call me that again, but when I opened my eyes, the guy beside me was still asleep.  Had I been dreaming?  My squirming caused him to squirm, and I wiped my eyes and turned to my other side. 

That’s when my heart stopped.

I gasped, feeling like I had been submersed underwater and just came up after several minutes for my first breath of air.  I shot up, and it caused Joe to stir and open his eyes also.  What the!?  He jumped out of bed in only his boxers.  My eyes hadn’t moved from where they first landed.  I couldn’t believe what they beheld!  I was frozen with a mixture of panic and fear, and confusion. 

I wasn’t expecting to see this when I came home.  Seated beside the bed as if he’d been there for over an hour, his eyes glowed a beautiful blue.  His face was scruffy.  His nose was straight and narrow.  This beautiful man of my dreams literally looked like he’d been carved by the hands of God, and exactly as I remembered him last.  He sat with a baseball cap on, and a long sleeved black shirt pulled up to his elbows, and tattered jeans. 

Van, I breathed, thinking this felt too real to be a dream this time. 

Who’s that?  He gestured indignantly toward Joe, who stood behind me on the other side of the bed.  Are you in love with this guy?

Who are you?! Joe asked, perplexed.  His pants were back on.  He was buttoning his shirt back up.

I’m Sloan’s husband, he answered, with a look so cocky and smug that it made my heart flutter.  Or maybe it was simply the sound of his calm, smooth voice.  I just couldn’t stop staring in awe. 

I thought you said your husband was dead!  I turned to look back at him, and I couldn’t even offer up anything.

Girls lie.  It’s what they do.  Van stood up, and my jaw dropped as I reached for his old t-shirt I kept on my bedside table, which I normally slept in.  My shorts were underneath them.  Sorry, bro.  Time to go.

Joe tossed a hurt look in my direction, but I wasn’t even concerned.  He showed himself out, and my husband really was standing there, in the flesh, right before my very eyes.  I bounced out of bed as soon as the door closed, signaling Joe’s exit.  Van’s arms were crossed before his chest, and he was eyeing me with serious intenseness.  He raised an eyebrow at me.  If ever there was a worse time to be prideful…

Don’t look at me like that, I shot at him, giving him a look of warning.  What is this?  I don’t understand!

Neither do I!  Who was that chump?  He’s been sleeping in my bed? 

You mean, my bed! I yelled back.  You’re dead!

Obviously, he fired back sarcastically.  Do you love him?

No! I shrieked, just as he lunged at me, falling on top of me on the bed and causing me to try and squirm out from underneath him.  I was so many emotions at that moment, but anger soared highest among them all.  How are you alive? I slapped at him as he restrained me with little effort.  How are you here right now?  Where have you been?  I watched you get shot! I cried, overwhelmed.  I tried to look up at him, but he was blurred from tears that welled.  How are you here? I whispered.

He collapsed on top of me, his grip softening, and instinctively my arms slid around him, gripping at his back.  I buried my face in his chest, and breathed in that scent of him that made me cling to his pillows, even months after he had left me.  My head