Wrath (Part I): A Mafia Romance (Esposito Series Book 1)

by Fariah Zaidi

  Wrath

  Part I

  Fariah Zaidi

  Copyright © 2019 Fariah Zaidi

  All rights reserved. No part of this text may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by means including photocopying, recording or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher or author except in case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Cover artist: Shreya Tiwari

  For my Wattpad family.

  I wouldn’t be here without you.

  Contents

  Prologue: Kidnapped

  Chapter 1: Will

  Chapter 2: Letter

  Chapter 3: Questions

  Chapter 4: Revelations

  Chapter 5: Smirks

  Chapter 6: Rage

  Chapter 7: Past

  Chapter 8: Dinner

  Chapter 9: Buongiorno

  Chapter 10: Anxiety

  Chapter 11: Broken

  Chapter 12: Hug

  Chapter 13: Progress

  Chapter 14: Call

  Chapter 15: Pillow

  Chapter 16: Agreement

  Chapter 17: Room

  Chapter 18 (Part I): Feel

  Chapter 18 (Part II): Whiskey

  Chapter 19: Period

  Chapter 20: Words

  Chapter 21: Money

  Chapter 22: Chaos

  Prologue: Kidnapped

  Zara

  The purr of an engine made me blink my eyes open. But all I could see was darkness.

  The place was cramped and smelled of gasoline. It didn’t take me long to realize that I was in the trunk of a car.

  Events from tonight came rushing back to me like a punch in the gut.

  The attack.

  Those three men.

  I closed my eyes again, desperately trying to hold back the tears. Images flitted through my mind, of the men hitting me and tying me up, all the while their hands roaming over my body as they sneered and joked about how their boss was going to make me pay.

  I took deep breaths and shook my head.

  It is going to be okay. You’re smart enough. You can get out of here.

  I chided to myself in a miserable attempt to calm my wildly beating heart.

  It was almost impossible to move my hands and feet. The rope around them was so tight that it was digging into my flesh. The gag in my mouth made me want to throw up.

  The car hit bumps on the road, and it made my stomach lurch painfully as I desperately tried to hold the nausea in.

  Fumbling around the trunk, I blindly searched for something that could help me cut through the ropes. My feet nudged at something hard but it was impossible to reach it. I would have to bend halfway and my movements were restricted.

  That’s when I felt something hard and thin digging into my right breast.

  My pocket knife!

  I hastily started fumbling over my clothes. Twisting my wrist in the process, I reached inside my sweater and my bra. My laughter was one of relief when I felt the blade rested below my right cup.

  Ever since that night two years ago, I had taken every necessary precaution to be aware of my surroundings and to keep myself safe.

  With great effort, my fingers latched around the small knife and I took it out. Flipping it open, I started cutting off the ropes. One by one, the fibers broke from the friction of the sharp blade and it loosened around my wrists.

  After my hands were untied, I removed my gag and set to work on my legs, quickly wriggling my feet out of them. I also reached down to feel what was lying at my feet.

  It was a wrench. And good enough to be used as a weapon.

  Not knowing how long we were going to travel in the car, I lay there in the trunk, formulating a plan on how to get out of the situation.

  It felt like years had passed when the car jerked to a stop. The engine died down and I could hear the doors opening and slamming shut.

  My heartbeat picked up as I heard footsteps coming around and stopping in front of the trunk.

  “You go ahead. I will bring this puttana.” I heard a male voice call out as he clicked open the lock.

  I took a deep breath, readying myself.

  It was now or never.

  As soon as the trunk opened, I shot my leg out and kicked him straight in the crotch. He yelled in pain and fell to his knees, clutching the front of his pants as a string of colorful curses left his mouth. I did not wait to see who he was and what he could do. I swung my right hand forward and rammed the wrench on his head. Blood started trickling down his front as he yelled and groaned and fell on the floor, writhing in pain.

  I jumped out of the car, looking around frantically to see anything I could recognize or anyone I could call for help. The only thing I could figure out in my haste was that we were in the back alley of some building, lit by yellow lights and utterly deserted.

  I didn’t wait to turn around and see who was coming when I heard voices being raised and doors being slammed.

  I ran.

  “Come back here, you bitch!” someone yelled behind me, but my steps did not falter for even a second. I kept on running.

  Past the trashcans and stray cats that jumped out of my way, I ran. I could hear them shouting behind me, telling me to stop. I glanced behind, long enough to see that they were now pointing guns at me.

  Where was I even going? It was like a maze.

  Frantic and on the verge of passing out, I turned another corner. Only to run into a wall.

  Except it wasn’t a wall. It was a man.

  The running footsteps halted a few feet behind me as I kept on staring at the man in front of me.

  “Help me. Please.” I begged breathlessly, clutching at his jacket.

  Without a word, he gripped my arm and pulled me behind him.

  “Stefan.” one of my kidnappers stepped forward cautiously, his gun aimed high.

  Did this man know my kidnappers?

  “We don’t want any trouble.” my kidnapper continued, “Boss Romano just needs the girl.”

  “Well,” the guy in front of me started in a deep, velvety voice, “your fucking boss is always going after things that don’t belong to him.”

  He raised his hand, bringing up his own gun. Before anyone of us could react, he fired twice.

  The shots echoed in the dark alley over and over, so terrifying that I had to raise my hands to cover my ears from blasting sound.

  A grim, sickening thud followed, as both guys fell to the ground, their chests oozing with blood. I turned away, my stomach lurching at the sight.

  He turned to me, his face blank under the ugly yellow lights.

  “Good evening, Zara. I never imagined our next meeting would be like this.”

  Chapter 1: Will

  12 HOURS EARLIER

  Zara

  “So this is the bitch boss was telling us about?” the masked man sneered, eyeing my body up and down, making my skin crawl with disgust. I closed my eyes when his leering gaze fell upon my chest and lit up like he found his prize.

  I tried to move back, but instantly his hand shot out and gripped my arm, and with a painful tug, he pulled me towards him.

  “She is a beauty, though.” I trembled under his touch as he trailed his finger down my cheek, wiping the tears, “It would be a waste to kill her without enjoying her first.”

  “No.” I sobbed, “Please, please don’t do this.”

  He laughed, enjoying the way I squirmed beneath his touch. His deep green eyes glinted, terrifying me to my core.

  I lo
oked to my right and saw the lifeless eyes of my parents, their bodies covered in blood.

  “Oh kitten, you can’t run away from me.”

  With that he picked me up by my hair and shoved me on the couch.

  I begged, I cried. I frantically thrashed my arms and feet. But nothing seemed to stop him. He was too strong and I was no match for him.

  “Nooo!”

  I shot up from my bed, perspiration dripping down my face, mixing with the tears. My throat burned and I clawed at it to release the pain. I turned to my right and picked up the glass of water, drinking it all in one go.

  Fragments of the nightmare flitted through my mind and I closed my eyes, desperately trying to overcome the pain. My body trembled and my heart ached, my lungs still gasping for air.

  I placed the glass back on my nightstand and looked at the clock, the date and time blinking in neon light.

  6:00 am.

  January 8th.

  Sighing deeply, I pushed away the covers, knowing I won’t be able to sleep again.

  Today marks the second anniversary of my parents’ death, and the day that my entire world as I knew it, was destroyed.

  The day my parents and I returned home from the movies only to find our front door open and three men seated in the living room. Before we could even react, the middle one raised his gun and shot my father in the chest and then did the same to my mother, after which he proceeded to throw me on the couch as he mercilessly had his way with me while his two guards enjoyed the show.

  When he was done breaking me, both mentally and physically, they all left. They thought they had left me for dead. And I wished I was too. I don’t know how long I was curled up on the couch, wishing for death to take me. Sadly, that wish wasn’t granted.

  Bleeding and bruised, I got up from the couch and called 911.

  Before the police even arrived, I had passed out on the floor, cradling my parents’ dead bodies in my lap.

  As unfortunate as this coincidence was, today was also my birthday. But well, you are never in a mood to celebrate when all you have as birthday presents are a shit ton of memories, memories that include the murder of your parents and of yourself getting raped.

  I sighed and got up from my bed. After taking a long hot shower that did little to soothe my agitated mind, I put on a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie, only to come back and lie down on the bed again.

  Today is a Sunday, which means no work.

  So either I can laze around the whole day and watch Netflix, or I can do something productive, like cleaning out my closet, which I have been meaning to do since the past couple of weeks.

  Finally deciding upon the latter, I get up from my bed, picking my phone along the way. I turn it on and see it light up with the usual notifications; Instagram, Snapchat and a couple of mails with shopping offers. But there is one at the bottom of them all that catches my eye. It’s a voicemail from an unknown number. I tap on it and hold the phone up to my ear-

  “Miss Zara Mayer, this is Derek Evans. I am your father, Mr. Lucas Theo Mayer’s lawyer. This call is regarding his will, the details of which cannot be provided on the phone. It would be extremely helpful if you could call me back so that we can discuss this further.”

  I pulled the phone away from my ear and stared at it in bewilderment.

  What lawyer?

  What will?

  And why two years after my father’s death?

  My finger hovers over the call button, debating whether to call him back or not. Finally deciding the former, I tap on the number and hold the phone up to my ear.

  One ring.

  Two rings.

  He picks up on the third.

  “Hello?”

  “Mr. Derek Evans?” I ask hesitantly.

  “Miss Mayer, I presume?” his deep voice travels through the phone.

  “Yes. I got your voicemail. But I really believe you are mistaken. My father had only one lawyer and I have already talked to him.” I tell him.

  “I am confident that I have the right person. I have your father’s documents right in front of me. His full name is Lucas Theo Mayer. His wife’s name was Celine and daughter Zara.”

  I held my breath as he ranted off the information.

  “I am pretty positive that I have the right person, Miss Mayer. And now I would very much like to set up a meeting with you, preferably this afternoon, to discuss this in person.”

  I sighed in resignation. Meeting him would be the only way to get to the bottom of all this confusion.

  “Do you know Livvie’s by Times Square?” I asked him.

  “Yes, I do.” his answer was prompt, “Shall I meet you there around one?”

  Thus confirming the meeting, I hung up and sighed deeply.

  Since there was no point in sitting around and over thinking all of this, I set to work on the closet, pulling out everything to the floor.

  About three hours later, I had successfully created two piles, one for junk and one for the useful stuff. Suffice to say, the former was much bigger than the latter. Having put all the clothing and books that could be donated, in a separate box, I lugged them near the front door, making a mental reminder to drop it off.

  Pretty soon I was getting ready for my meeting with the lawyer. I threw on some proper clothes, slipped on my boots and coat and made my way out the door.

  I walked into Livvie’s at five minutes to one. It was this beautiful, rustic Italian restaurant where I worked as a chef. I was greeted by the usual rush, the restaurant bustling with people.

  The reason why I asked the lawyer to meet me here was a precautionary measure. I did not know who this man was, and I was not taking any chances. Therefore, I asked him to meet at a place where I could guarantee my own safety.

  Letty, one of the waitresses, came up to me with her usual, charming smile, “Zara, I didn’t know you were working today.”

  “I’m not.” I told her, “I’m just here to meet my lawyer.”

  She turned around and nodded towards someone sitting at the corner table, “Is that him?”

  The man in question looked about fifty years of age, wearing a brown suit, his silver and black hair neatly combed to the side. He was quietly seated, one hand scrolling on his phone and the other placed on the briefcase by his side.

  “Only one way to find out.” I answered Letty, shooting her smile and making my way towards the said table.

  “Derek Evans?” I enquired.

  “Miss Mayer, thank you for meeting with me.” he held out his hand, “Please have a seat.”

  I shook his hand and sat down opposite of him.

  “How are you? Would you like something to eat?” he asked, even though I could sense from his tone that he would rather talk about the will.

  “Mr. Evans, I did not come here to enjoy small talks and courtesies. Can we please get to the point?” I smiled tightly.

  “Very well then.” he clapped his hand.

  Ruffling through his briefcase, he pulled out a slim, brown file.

  “Your father came to me two weeks before his death and produced me with a will. He requested that it was to be carried out on your twenty-first birthday. Until then, you were not to be made aware of it in any way possible. Your father had also rented a safe deposit box at the Central Bank, the key to which he entrusted me with for safe-keeping.”

  “Why you?” I asked.

  “You probably won’t know this, but your father and I were very close friends in high school. When he showed up at my office, that was the first time I had seen him in years.”

  “Why would he come to you?” I enquired, getting confused by the second, “He already had a lawyer.”

  “I’m guessing he was in trouble.” he answered, looking apprehensive, “When he came to me with the will, it was as if he knew something bad was going to happen to him.”

  I leaned back, my eyes shifting to the heavy traffic outside the window.

  What is all this?

  Mr. Evans interrupts my c
hain of baffled thoughts, motioning to the file in my hand, “If you read the document, the will says that on your twenty-first birthday, the contents of the safe deposit box were to be handed over to you.”