Rotten Men (A Rotten Love Duet Book 2)

by Ivy Fox

“The fuck you want me to say?” I bark in his face, pushing the mad man away from me. I have no idea what is going on, but knowing Vince, only one thing has ever turned his cool, collected persona into a full-fledged, irrational storm.

  “The truth! She never once lied to you. Never! I want you to tell me if you knew about my son!”

  “The fuck! Your son?” I shout, wide-eyed.

  Vince scrutinizes my every feature, and I swear on the holy mother I have no idea what he’s on about.

  “Vincent, what’s this all about?” Dominic interjects, placing a calming hand on Vincent’s shoulder, but he shakes it off, wanting to pace around the ugly, grey carpet instead. But not before slamming a photograph on the oak wood desk. Both Dominic and I go to it, and right there, in living color, is our Selene smiling at the camera with Anna Maria at her side, and in between them, a dark-haired boy with Vincent’s eyes staring back at us.

  “Please, Gio. Did you know?” I hear him beg, and the misery touching each syllable breaks my own shattered heart further.

  “No, brother. I swear on my life and hers. She never said a word,” I tell him truthfully.

  Selene never once even hinted at having a child, much less Vincent’s. I fall on the couch trying to grasp this new piece of information, but I’m having a shit time in trying to make sense of it all.

  “This isn’t possible,” Dominic mumbles. I have to admit; I’m as bewildered as the big guy.

  Vincent scoffs, taking the picture back in his hands, looking at it as if it holds all his answers.

  “Not only did she not want anything to do with me, with us, but she didn’t even want us to be a part of their lives,” he mumbles, lovingly tracing each face with his finger.

  “No. This is not Selene.” I shake my head. “There has to be another reason. She wouldn’t do this to us,” I choke out, unprepared to deal with this type of treachery.

  “There isn’t. We gave our hearts to the heartless, Giovanni. It’s time we make peace with that,” Vincent adds, slumping to the floor. His head leans on the desk for support, while his eyes never leave his infant child.

  “Careful there, brother. Don’t say something you might regret. Gio’s right. Selene must have had her reasons from keeping this from you. From us,” Dom counters, steadfast in his belief my principessa is above such a betrayal without due cause.

  “She lied, Dom. About all of it. James was nothing but another one of her masks. She’s playing with him the same way she played with us.”

  “What do you mean?” I question, my brows furrowed in concern.

  “He’s not her husband. Not really. Their marriage was just a ploy to keep Selene and Jude hidden from us,” he explains.

  “Jude?” Dominic asks and throws a knowing glance my way.

  “My son’s name.” Vincent smiles wistfully, looking at the image of the boy.

  A distant memory comes to mind of a night we three hid behind a boulder, watching Pietro’s initiation and the patron saint being burnt to a crisp, while he made his pledge to the Outfit. My chest grows heavy remembering how I pledged to be hers forever, later that same night—a promise I stayed true to, even after all these years of heartache.

  I watch Vincent place the photograph on his lap, and look at both of us with so much fervor and resolution. My heart leaps into my throat, desperate to prevent whatever words he’s about to utter.

  “Selene is dead to us.”

  The unholy sentence taints the very air I breathe, knowing nothing I can say or do will change his mind.

  “Vince, you’re agitated, and rightfully so, but don’t do something none of us can come back from.” Dominic desperately tries to sway our friend’s blasphemous decision, but Vincent doesn’t react to his pleas. Instead, he just falls back, looking at the five-by-seven frame.

  “What are you going to do?” I whisper hoarsely, petrified by what his response may be.

  “What I have to. What we should have done all along,” he hushes back.

  “And that is?” Dominic intervenes, his own voice a mumbled whisper.

  Vincent locks eyes with us both, inciting our greatest fear with his final decision.

  “We’re going to let her go.”

  NINETEEN

  Selene

  I switch off the ignition and turn my head to face the troubled look of the boy who is my reason in all things.

  “You’re quiet. You’ve been quiet for the past couple of days now. You want to talk about it?” I ask him softly, making sure he understands he can always come to me with anything that ails him. But my son just stares back at me with apprehension in his eyes. That one look slays me in more ways than one.

  “I want to ask you for something, but I don’t know if you’ll like it,” he replies, sucking on his lower lip while wiping his clammy hands on his jeans.

  “Jude, I’m your mother. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t give you, kiddo. If it’s within my capacity, it’s yours.” I affirm with a smile, but instead of being met with just a simple request of a new game for his PlayStation or some tickets to a sporting event, I’m greeted with something I’m reluctant to give.

  “I don’t want us to hide anymore. I want to stay,” he replies with such calm, I’m reminded he’s not only my child but also that of the stoic boy I grew up with who always shielded his true feelings behind his hazel eyes.

  I take a long breath and slump my head on the headrest, unprepared in having to defend my decisions to him. I should have followed my gut and lied to Jude about why we have to leave Nashville. Bad enough I followed James’ opinion in being honest with them both; he’s not helping things either by stalling in getting his affairs in order, delaying our escape out of this town. I can’t help but feel responsible for sheltering them both as much as I did. If they only knew what facing real evil entailed, I’m sure we would have been miles away by now.

  “We’ve had this discussion, Jude. It’s not safe for us to be here anymore. You’re a young, sweet kid. You’ll make new friends wherever we go,” I insist, hoping that is his only concern.

  “I’m not worried about making friends, Mammà.”

  “Then what are you worried about?” I ask, turning to face him once more.

  “Vincent just found me and I didn’t even have a chance to talk to him,” he mumbles under his breath, adding bitter vinegar to the cuts of my soul. His eyes remain downcast, a sign of how nervous he is in contradicting my wishes.

  “So this is about your father?” I sigh.

  My beautiful, naive son tilts his head to me, steadfast in his resolve in seeing this discussion through—always my little, fearless warrior.

  “I want to meet him. I mean, really meet him. Uncle Gio and Uncle Dom, too,” he ventures, and my own sullen smile tugs on my lips.

  “You’re curious.”

  “Shouldn’t I be?” he snaps back, and I’m aghast at seeing my own regrets being thrown at me, through my amato’s eyes.

  “It’s normal to be curious, but as much as I want you to know where you come from, your protection comes first,” I explain as calm as I can muster, considering the acrimonious stare I’m facing.

  “He can protect me. All of them can protect us, Mammà,” he pleas, breaking my heart further with his unrealistic notions.

  “No, sweetheart, they can’t.”

  “Yes, they can! My father is the boss of a huge crime family, Mammà. You said so yourself. Don’t tell me he can’t protect me!” he shouts back.

  “Enough!” I slap the steering wheel in front of me. “They cannot help us, Jude! Doing so means one of us will end up dead. Do you understand that? This life isn’t one of your videogames or TV shows. This is real life, Jude! The good guys don’t win every battle. Sometimes evil conquers all, and from my experience, it always will.”

  “You’re wrong,” he quips back and opens the car door, hastening his quick getaway.

  I take my seatbelt off and get out of the car as fast as
I can to try and talk some sense into him.

  “Jude!”

  “I have to go, Mammà. I promised I’d take Mrs. Henderson’s dogs for a walk when I got back from school,” he yells, his back to me, already heading to our sixty-year-old neighbor’s front yard.

  “Okay. Go and then come back to help me with dinner, okay? We need to talk about this,” I yell, but he’s too far gone to hear a word. I think that was probably his intention anyway.

  Between him and James, I’m not sure who is more determined to see me rescind my decision to leave Nashville behind. If their concerns were only because they don’t want to leave our home, I could have understood. But they’re not. They’re clinging to the hope I will choose the men I love and return home, where they think I belong. They just can’t comprehend that those bridges are burnt to the ground, especially now that Vincent knows I kept our son away from him. If I step one foot in Chicago, he’ll be the one wanting my head, not my father.

  I open my front door, hoping that perhaps making Jude’s favorite lasagna will brighten his spirits—a lie I tell myself as I walk into the hallway and place my bag and keys on one of the tables.

  “James?” I call out, wondering where he might be.

  I saw his bike outside, but the absence of country music and the TV switched off makes me think he might have taken a nap while I picked Jude up from school. Of course, when I walk into our living room, I see my assumptions were very far off the mark—terrifyingly off.

  “Bella rosa, so happy to see you again.” Ciro’s melodic tone vibrates through my body, instantly causing my skin to buzz with petrifying fear.

  My worst nightmare is sitting comfortably in my living room, while pointing a gun at James’ head, making it seem the most mundane thing in the world. “I must say, I was getting a bit anxious for your arrival. Please have a seat,” he insists evenly.

  My feet are frozen in place, but when he tilts his gun closer to James, they move on their own accord, only stopping when I’ve sat down on my couch, inches away from my savior and my tormentor.

  “Now isn’t this cozy,” he adds, his ocean-blue eyes taking in every inch of my home.

  My heart beats madly in my chest, as I discreetly reach out for James’ hand beside me. As usual, Ciro sees everything, so my gesture doesn’t go unnoticed, making his sinister, slanted grin becoming far too pronounced for my liking.

  “Yes, very cozy indeed,” he sneers.

  “What do you want?” James questions dryly.

  “So many things. But right now I’ll settle for a small talk with your wife,” he hums, and his harsh, vicious grin only widens, churning my stomach into knots.

  “How did you find me?” I ask, although at this point it really doesn’t matter.

  The psychopath I had run from has found me at last, and I’m certain today is the day I die for my rebellion. He stands from his seat, and I look up at the monster before me. Still as beautiful as ever, with his almond-shaped, blue eyes, and cleft jaw. Such a gorgeous package concealing a hideous interior. James squeezes my hand reassuringly, as Ciro kneels in front of me, his gun’s aim never once leaving the cherished friend at my side.

  “Anyone can be found if you’re determined enough, but you didn’t make it easy on me, rosa. I searched the world for you and you just disappeared without a trace. I always knew you to be clever, but I never thought you’d outsmart me,” he hushes, pushing an errant strand of hair behind my ear.

  I try to keep my revulsion at bay when he touches me, but his bright eyes harden at my poor attempt. He rises once more to his feet, making his tall predatory frame that much more intimidating.

  “In the end, it was your bleeding heart which led me to you,” he announces plainly.

  I furrow my brow, confused as to how that was possible.

  “Your mother’s funeral, bella rosa. Unlike the other men in your life, I knew for certain you wouldn’t be able to stay away without saying your goodbyes to her. I had my men stay out of sight, but they kept an eye out for you. I was prepared to have that cemetery watched till the end of my days, but thankfully, you didn’t disappoint and showed up sooner than I thought,” he explains smoothly.

  “That was months ago,” James interjects, just as confused as I am as to why Ciro is coming for me only now.

  “What can I say? I’ve been busy.” He shrugs. “And I’m a firm believer in delayed gratification. First I needed to see how best to use this new-found knowledge to my advantage. And I have,” he continues ominously, but the faint glimmer of pride that shines through makes me shudder at the thought of what Ciro has been up to all this time.

  “How?” I stutter, hoping he’ll tell me what mad new scheme he’s prepared.

  “Ah, Selene, I can’t be telling you all my secrets now, can I?” he counters amused. “But the fun is over now. It’s time we end this.”

  I close my eyes and send a prayer to my mother, hoping she’s able to look after Jude once Ciro has sent me to the hell that most certainly awaits me.

  “It’s time you came home, rosa,” the villain hushes lovingly, and my eyes widen in shock.

  “What are you talking about? You’re not going to kill me?” I ask flabbergasted, and my astonishment only seems to amuse him further.

  The sound of his laugh is as melodic as his voice. He takes a step closer to me, and places his gun under my chin, tilting my head back to look straight at him. The endearment in his eyes alarms me more than the cold barrel against my skin.

  “Why would I ever do that? We belong together, you and I. It’s time you understood this too, cara mia,” he utters sweetly, letting me know that death won’t be my escape from his tight grip.

  “You are insane,” James spits beside me, tightening his squeeze on my hand.

  Ciro takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling in one slow movement. He turns his menacing eyes and simper onto my friend, and I wish James didn’t antagonize the beast in our living room.

  “You know, since I’ve known him, my cousin has been one big disappointment after another. I thought for sure he would beat me to killing my brother when he learned Selene was promised to him, yet he never made a move to kill Pietro for his betrayal. But you, though? How hard is it to kill you? Why keep you alive when you kept our love away from us all these years? Deeply disappointing,” Ciro mutters, annoyed, and swings his gun back to James’ head.

  I jump out of my seat, putting myself in between the two men.

  “Ciro, no! It’s me you want, not James. Please, just leave him be!” I plea breathlessly.

  His aggravation dims slightly, and a small spec of life returns to his gaze.

  “Of course. I understand now. Vincent didn’t kill him, because of you. How you turn us all into lovesick fools, willing to abide by your every desire, even if it goes against our very nature, cara mia,” he says, but his gun continues his true aim at James’ temple.

  “Please, Ciro,” I beg again, this time taking a step closer to him, putting my hand softly on his wrist.

  His eyes become hooded, as I watch him take in each detail of my face. I trace my thumb over his cool skin, and he slowly points his gun to the ground. His other hand reaches out to the nape of my neck and brings me in with one quick pull.

  “I’ve been haunted without you,” he whispers tenderly in my ear, placing a chaste kiss to my cheek.

  In every interaction we have had in the past, Ciro has always treated me with a tenderness most would think him incapable of possessing. It hurts my heart to know he is just as much a product of all the vile, evil things he had to endure as I am. So starved of love and filled with an abundance of hate. The Thorn is just a tortured soul who did the best he could to survive, just as my rotten men and I attempted to do. The only difference is we always had our bond to keep us intact, while Ciro simply had no one.

  As much as everything he embodies scares me, my own dark soul understands him, too. I wish it didn’t. It would make it mu
ch easier to hate him. But to this day, only my father has ever gained that sentiment from me. Ciro doesn’t merit my hatred. But he has earned my fear. A terrifying fear I’m reminded of when I hear the meek voice of my son call out to me.

  “Mammà?” Jude stutters, seeing the whole ordeal before him.

  Ciro’s gaze turns from adoring to a full-blown hurricane, and I shake my head pleadingly as I walk backward, trying to reach my son and protect him from Ciro’s fury.

  “No, Ciro! Please, no!” I yell, finally turning my back to him, and running to my boy to protect him from the evil that lives and breathes in this room.

  It all happens so fast after that. From my peripheral I watch James taking advantage of the diversion I have inadvertently caused to tackle Ciro down to the ground. All I hear is grunts and jabs as the two men fight, breaking every piece of furniture in their way. The violent noise is so loud that aid will undoubtedly be on its way. I’m about to shout at Jude to run when the most blood-curdling sound deafens my ears.

  Bang!

  “DAD!!!” Jude yells at the top of his lungs, breaking my hold on him and running to his fallen father on the floor.

  My son’s gut-wrenching screams mimic my own, as we try to cling to a life already fading before our very eyes. I press hard on the bleeding stomach wound, but the crimson liquid just flows too fast, tainting everything it touches.

  “Jude…” James gurgles, gaining another loud shriek from my heartbroken son.

  “That was stupid. I had no intention of killing you today,” Ciro states, matter-of-fact, standing arrogantly above us.

  Then my horror increases tenfold, when Ciro picks up Jude into his arms, kicking and screaming in an attempt to escape his grasp.

  “NO!!!” I yell, not able to take my hands off James’ wound and grab my baby back from his monstrous hands. “Please, Ciro! PLEASE!!” I scream.

  “This was not how I wanted to end our talk, Selene. But time is ticking, and I need you to come home. The boy will come with me, as you settle this,” he states bitterly, pointing at the dying man at my side.