Her Crimson Reign

by Tristina Brockway

  As we walk into the restaurant, the interior is decorated beautifully with mostly black furniture and tables with gold accents and trimmings. As we walk past the hostess she continues to call out to me as we walk into the room with Piero. “Excuse me. Ma’am, you can’t just walk back there!”

  I turn around and give her a once over then slowly approach her and lean into her ear as I whisper, “Unless you’d like me to cut out your tongue and serve it up as an appetizer, I suggest you stand by and look pretty, which, let’s face it, is what you’re being paid to do while I continue to do whatever it is I plan to do. Either way, I do whatever I damn well please. The question is, will you be doing your job with or without a tongue?”

  I lean back to hear what she has to say and notice the tears streaming down her face as she turns and runs out of the room.

  “I think I broke her,” I say as we continue into the room. Piero laughs and shakes his head.

  As I look around, I see Piero at the head of the table with Giovanni on his right and Chance sitting beside him. On the left side of Piero is my father. I haven’t seen Papa in months it seems, and he’s taken me by surprise, but I’m quick to mask my expression. The only one that seems to notice is Giovanni.

  I first greet Piero by kissing each cheek and then move over to Papa and do the same. “Please. Have a seat. You ladies look beautiful this evening,” Piero compliments us both.

  “Thank you,” Kat and I say as I take a seat next to my father, and she sits on the other side of me.

  We continue with casual conversation and halfway through our meal, I notice Giovanni sneaking glances my way. Chance and Kat have been talking up a storm but Gio and I have yet to speak to each other tonight.

  We have so much going on right now, this gathering of individuals makes no sense to me at the moment. Someone, or a group of someones, is trying to kill me, and Piero has asked us to dine out in a public place. But the most surprising thing is my father, who I rarely see thanks to my bitch of a mother, is suddenly here. Don't get me wrong. This is nice. But I'm not stupid, and I sure as hell don't like being in the dark when it comes to information. So why do I get the feeling that the dark is exactly where they want me?

  I try to get a read on everyone in the room, but some are harder to read than others. Kat and Chance are easy to assess. Gio, Piero, and Papa are another story all together. Two of which are my mentors. One is a father and the other is a close second. Not knowing why these people are keeping something from me is driving me mad.

  "What aren't you telling me?" I ask in a demanding tone.

  Piero takes a deep breath and continues. "This is my fault, Six. I wanted to talk to you about this and was hoping it would be something to celebrate afterward, so I wanted this to be special. We've been doing this dance for a while now.

  "You're protected by my family on my orders. But I was hoping you would like to join the family, officially. Not only because you're already considered family and we would love to have you. But it would make it official, giving you even more protection."

  Suddenly, I can see why this was a public event with my father here. I look up and into my papa’s smoky gray eyes and can see the hope they hold within. Hope I'll have even more protection. Hope I'll join his best friend's family, a friend that's like a brother to my father. Piero knows even if I am a grade A bitch, I'd still have trouble denying my papa, whether my problem was being way too emotional, or not having emotions at all.

  I turn to Piero and begin to voice my concerns. "There's a few things we need to discuss. First, one of the things I value most is my ability to take jobs freely, which is non-negotiable. Second, my anonymity for family business stays in play and I keep my current men that I employ for security as an extension of my own business along with Reign. Finally, the ability to renegotiate my terms remains open-ended for no less than twelve months."

  My father leans over and quietly whispers in my ear, "Respect, Six. You do realize you're speaking with the head of the Italian Mafia?"

  Laughter is so close to bubbling up and spilling out of my mouth I have to hold my breath. I forget sometimes, while my papa knows what I do, it’s rare he actually sees me at work. I consider negotiations part of my work. Therefore, this is a business dinner, by my standards.

  Piero let's out a small chuckle and I realize he's aware of what my father's saying. "No worries my friend. You know one of my favorite things about Six is her ability to speak her mind. She's strong-willed, a survivor." He looks at me and continues to speak. "You have a deal."

  As I stand to shake his hand I notice the slight twitch at the corner of Gio’s mouth and the smile on everyone else's face. I can see the pride in my father's eyes and detect the hint of moisture gathering in his vision. I’m glad I could do this for him. He’s perfectly healthy, but I’m aware it makes him feel better to know I have additional backup should I find myself in a situation where it’s needed. Maybe he’s having a midlife crisis. Hell if I know.

  Piero knows I wouldn’t agree to this if there wasn’t something in it for me. As much as I care for him and the family, it takes a lot for me to give up pieces of my freedom. That’s something I’ll never do. We both know that. I may now be affiliated with the family, but I’ll continue to do my work while walking the fine line between mafia member and assassin, much like wading into dark waters during a storm.

  Chapter 21

  Giovanni

  We’ve finished dinner and are about to leave when Six excuses herself from the table to go to the bathroom. Ever since we fucked, it’s like a switch has flipped. She’s never really been friendly and I’ve even liked that about her. But lately she’s on a whole other level. There’s no more banter or flirting or whatever the fuck you want to call it. She’s stopped trying to work together on jobs lately, and started depending more on herself and working solo missions. I really hate being frozen out and it’s starting to get chilly out here by myself.

  I need to talk to her so we can get this sorted and put behind us. I excuse myself from the table and walk down the dimly lit arched hallway towards the bathrooms and I run into her there as she’s leaving.

  I reach out to keep Six from falling after the collision and decide to go ahead and say what’s on my mind. “What’s your problem with me lately? You barely speak to me and when you do it seems like you’d rather kill me than be anywhere near me.”

  “I’d rather kill than talk. You know this, Gio.”

  “I thought the last night we spent together was a good one, aside from how it started out.”

  “Jesus fucking Christ. Are you always this needy?” she asks, her voice laced with anger.

  “If by needy, you mean emotionally adept, then yes. I like to know where I stand at all times. I don’t do this psychological warfare bullshit that you guys have going on.”

  She scoffs as her brows pull together. “Psychological warfare? The longer this conversation lasts the more I'd love to see you strung up by your feet with your guts spilling out of you. So let me tell your emotionally adept ass one of the many reasons I’m not falling to my knees for you like the many before me. You talk in your sleep Giovanni. I know my name. Do you? Because apparently mine isn’t the one you like to moan in the middle of the night. You want warfare? I’ll bring you fucking warfare. Do. Not. Test. Me. But let’s just start with a dose of humility and a side of humble pie. Eat up, bitch.”

  My eyes widen and my breath is caught in my throat. I can feel the acid making its way up. I should have known better. Even if she isn't as emotional as other females I've known, I at least owed her this. This one explanation. But while I'm processing what she just said to me, she's already walked back to the table leaving me here to drown in my guilt and choke on my truths.

  When I finally make my way back to the table I see most everyone has already said their goodbyes and left for the night. As I do the same, Chance walks out with me and jumps in the car knowing I'm likely to have a complete fucking meltdown any minute now. It's tak
ing everything in me not to rip this steering wheel from the dash as my knuckles turn white from the overbearing grip I have on it. Inhale. Exhale. Taking deep breaths to ignore the red haze threatening to creep in and cloud my vision along with my judgement.

  He’s trying to figure out what the hell’s wrong with me and as much as I hate to say it, he’s always there for me when I need someone in my corner and this is one of those fucking times.

  “She says I talk in my sleep,” I blurt out with a rush of air. I can literally hear him stop breathing as I hold my own breath and wait for him to reply.

  “Well? What the fuck did you say that has her scaring the shit out of everyone in her line of vision?”

  Closing my eyes I give him the four letter word that hasn’t been mentioned in my presence in what feels like a very long time. “Mila.” Chance quickly turns his head to look at me and I can see his shoulders sag as his face morphs into an expression of understanding and pity. “Don’t do that. Don’t fucking do that. Understanding, I can take. But pity? You know me better than that.” He nods in agreement and turns to face forward, his features turning to a blank expression that’s hard to read and I couldn’t be more thankful for it right now.

  I continue the drive back to my house where Chance parked his car so we could ride together to my dad’s meet and greet with Six and her father for a family dinner. Once we arrive, he heads out leaving me alone with my thoughts and the goal of finding the bottom of a bottle or three to top off my night.

  There are only a handful of people who know about Mila and the pain she brings even to this day. But I can’t help what happened. It’s been a few years now and I still can’t sleep through the night. I may have said her name in my sleep, but what Six doesn’t know is I’ve been plagued with nightmares for years now and the sleep I got at her house was the best sleep I’ve had since that night all those years ago.

  When I’m awake and with Six, any thoughts of another woman is the last thing on my mind. I don’t think she understands how serious I am when I say I’m going to make her mine. She’s a queen all on her own but my father will be stepping down soon and handing me the keys to his kingdom. I’ll soon be a king in my own right and there’s no one I’d rather have by my side as my queen.

  The more I drink the stronger the need to get to her so I can explain myself becomes. But I can’t fucking drive right now. Uber it is.

  After an interesting ride to her house I decided I should probably give my driver an excellent rating after all the shit he just had to listen to. Nobody likes a rambling drunk and he had his hands full with me tonight. I never ramble. But she’s pulling something out in me I’m not sure I like. Feelings. How the hell have I become full of feelings when she hardly has any? It’s like the roles are reversed for once. A commonly heard stereotype ismen are supposed to be strong and women are allegedly the more emotional of the two genders. Society is full of shit.

  I run up to the door and push the doorbell several times while continuing to bang on the door and use the knocker. Who uses a knocker these days? They aren’t even loud enough to hear through the whole damn house. It’s never made sense to me. Six already knows it’s me, thanks to security who had to let me through the gate. Of course she’s making me wait though. I should have seen this coming. If she even lets me in at all.

  Finally, the door swings open and Six is standing there in a black crop top shredded on the sides with grey joggers rolled down sitting low on her waist. I can’t help but stare every time I see her like this. The piercings on her face and body and her ink covered skin are my kryptonite. Taking her in from head to toe I momentarily forget what the hell I’m here for until she clears her throat and stands with one hip popped out and her arms crossed with one eyebrow raised looking at me like she’d like nothing more than to put a bullet through my head.

  “Her name was Mila,” I blurt out without thinking of the consequences or caring to elaborate on that small bit of information.

  “No shit. I heard it real loud and clear when you were in my bed.”

  Fuck. I need to keep her on track or I’ll never get through this. “Can I come in and explain? Please?”

  “No. Start talking,” she demands.

  “Don’t talk. Please. Just listen. It’s not what you think and it’s a complicated story.” Again, she tilts her head with one brow raised, waiting for me to get on with it.

  I take a deep breath and just start letting the words spill out for the first time since that night. The night my life took a hard left turn. “Mila and I were engaged. She was pregnant. We had just moved in together. She was too naive for this life. Always the light to my darkness. Maybe I thought she would rub off on me. I don’t know. But one day we were on our way to a doctor’s appointment. We were going to find out if we were having a boy or a girl. I was driving when an SUV slammed into ours. The vehicle hit my side of the car so I took the blunt of the hit but I was in and out of consciousness. We were hanging upside down but one minute I blinked and she was crawling out of her side telling me to hold on and the next she was climbing through my window to talk to me.

  “I should have already had her training with guns. Anything to protect herself. She knew about our world but she had never lived in it until she met me. I was trying to tell her to get back in the car and she wasn’t safe out there but she couldn’t understand my mumbling. Meanwhile, the driver of the other vehicle was walking around to my side and walked up behind her and shot her at point blank range in the back of the head. She never saw it coming. By the time the ambulance got there, her and our baby were both… Dead.”

  I take a deep breath and try to clear my vision since I’ve lost myself in another place and time. When I look back up into her eyes I see a clear mask of indifference slipping over not only her face but her entire body, as if she’s putting her armor back on and preparing for battle. Then, a heavy wooden door slams in my face.

  Chapter 22

  Six

  All I can hear are the screams ringing in my ears like echoes of my soul shredding me apart from the inside, but I recognize the feeling. I’ve somehow convinced myself this is what numbness feels like. When you’re used to feeling emotions so strongly your body and brain train each other for the same reaction no matter the feeling it provokes on the inside. The outside shall remain the same. Made of stone.

  My white tiled room is covered in blood and the man that had been on the receiving end of my wrath is now only seconds away from taking his last breath while hanging from the ceiling of my playroom. I stand back and with both hands on my hips and my head leaning to the side, I wait. Impatiently waiting on this trash to die is exhausting.

  I had my fun and after what feels like months of searching, I finally have a nugget of information that might have some answers, making this war worth the fight. Because make no mistake. That’s what we’ve been doing. Attacks coming from left and right. In public, in private, at home, at our places of business. The lack of respect and dismissal of the rules of engagement speak volumes. Whoever’s leading these troops into battle is doing so with no regard for the unspoken customs of our world. They’re most likely not supported and may not even have the backing of an entire organization.

  I’ve been down here for almost three days bringing this man to the brink of death only to push him back to the side of the living. Edging him closer each time with different techniques and playing with my prey. I haven’t had anything to eat and haven’t slept since Giovanni was here almost a week ago. I’m living on blood and bourbon.

  Damon steps just inside the room and I can see the concern on his face. He’s obviously worried about me. We were never anything more than a casual fuck to pass time when he wasn’t running security for me, but he’ll always be my friend. No one compares to Kat, but Damon is still a friend. Or family. However the hell you want to describe it. When backs are against the wall I know I can call on D. Put it that way. But do I find it comical that Giovanni has obviously considered him a threat? Ab
solutely. Even though I’m sure he’d deny it. It’s nice to know he cares. While Damon can satisfy some of my needs he can’t satisfy them all. Not like Gio. There’s a difference. Damon could never be enough for me. But Giovanni is fated to me. Destined. Just for me. I feel it in my soul, if I even have one.

  As he folds his hands behind his back he speaks in a hesitant voice like he’s expecting the outcome. “Mr. Moretti is here to see you.” I look back to the dead man that’s taking center stage and reply, “I’m out.” Damon clears his throat and apologizes while stepping to the side.

  Piero Moretti sidesteps him and walks into my bloody playroom with a smile while removing his hat and handing it to Damon. “Now is that any way for my favorite girl to greet me?” As I look over and my eyes meet his I can see the same look in his I know reflect in mine. Dead. They’re pretty eyes. Beautiful in color but shit in showing signs of life.

  “Hey, Pops.” I smirk while I reply.

  “Hey, kitten. Been a hell of a week huh?”

  “Yeah, Pops. Hell of a week.”

  I can’t even be mad at Damon. I know Kat is responsible for Piero being here just as sure as I am that blood flows through my veins. I’ve hardly left this room and when I have, I never made an appearance upstairs. If I had to guess, Kat probably harassed Damon until he spilled some minor details and once she heard enough decided to give Piero a call, and knowing him, he’s here to reel me back in. But what none of them realize is he doesn’t need to.

  What if I wanted to break? That's what gets me answers. Cutting myself off. Letting myself fall and burying pieces of myself, even if only for a short time. Disassociating.