by Jax Hart
He studies my teasing face. “He’s changed you… what? Boyfriend!” he practically shrieks, muttering in Italian.
“He has.”
“I don’t like it… don’t trust him.”
But I leave already caught in the gaze at the base of the stairs drawing me down like a moth to a flame.
“Hey,” I squeaked out. He’s dressed. I mean dressed in a full suit. Crisp tie. Shined shoes. He looked every inch of an il sovrano. The ruler.
He frowned as he studied my paler than usual face. “You okay?”
I smiled faintly. “My eyes ache. My head hurts. This coding class I took as an elective is killing me.”
“I can help.”
“I’m tempted but that’s okay. I need to figure things out for myself.”
His lips curved. “I know. I’m even more into you for that.”
I felt Zio at my back like an ominous thundercloud.
“Can I make you an espresso?” I asked Roque in perfect Italian.
“Fuck, I’m so into you,” he exhaled as Zio passed us.
I grinned. “Zio thought I should learn.”
“He taught you?”
“That and just about everything.”
“Hmm,” he stroked his chin. “What happened to your parents again?”
“Car crash. Drunk Driver. Icy roads…,” I broke off. A flash of pain filled my face as all I remember Papa, getting gunned down and the time my mother was shoved in the back of a car never to be seen alive again. He noticed the pain in my eyes and gently caressed the side of my cheek with the pad of his thumb.
Zio banged pots and pans around, muttering in Italian under his breath. “You can’t stay. She needs to eat then do her schoolwork. What do you want with a high school girl anyway, eh?” Zio turned, pointed a chopping knife at Roque before expertly dicing onion for the sauce he was preparing on the stove.
I swear Roque’s eyes which at that moment were the pure aqua blue color found in an ice cap, twinkled as he took in my Uncle puttering around our small kitchen. He dropped into a seat at our table. “This smells like home…”
“Italy?”
Roque nodded, “Palermo.”
My palms sweat. Zio’s cursing became louder as his sauce bubbled over the top of the saucepan. The pulse at my throat beat faster. Did he know? Has he been toying with me this whole time?
I cleared my throat. “What a coincidence?’ I smiled a little too wide.
“Maybe it’s just fate, Blue.”
I jumped as a pan got thrown into the sink. Zio turned, in his eyes was all the rage he held onto for two decades. His fists balled. He might have walked away from mob life, but vengeance was in our blood. But unlike me, he wasn’t falling for the enemy.
Roque stood, amused by Zio’s antics at his presence. He slipped off his suit jacket. “Smells… delicious. Maybe I should stay for supper?”
“Stop provoking him,” I hissed, grabbing his hand. Sparks shot between us where we touch. Zio’s eyes narrowed to slits as he took in our linked hands. “Traitor,” he mouthed in Italian.
I pulled Roque into the family room, away from the judging gaze of my uncle. In seconds, I was pinned against the wall. His hands were in my hair. Mine tugged his head to mine. Lips parted. Voices sighed in sweet ecstasy as our mouths met and our souls sung at being in each other’s arms.
I felt him. All of him yearning as he strained against me. I’m a stupid fool because I can’t stop wanting him. Me, the stupid girl who this beautiful, fucked-up monster almost killed wants nothing more than to let him destroy me again.,
He reluctantly pulled away. His beautifully sculpted cheekbones were flushed with desire. His eyes glowed with it.
“Fuck, Baby Blue. I’m trying to be the good guy for once, but I don’t think I can when it comes to you.”
He seemed almost vulnerable as he looked at me with such heat; such raw intensity that his jaw worked. And I wondered if maybe this man would break for me. He’s my first taste of passion and probably my last. I couldn’t ever imagine anyone else making my fire burn as long and as hot as he has.
He finally shook his head, stepping back. “I’m needed in New York. I’ll be gone a few days.”
In the blink of an eye, he changed from my flushed wanna be lover to every inch a young Don, as he smoothed the fabric of his suit and checked his cuff links.
“Business? With Johnny?”
His eyes darkened, he tipped my chin hard, holding my face firmly in his hand. “Don’t ever ask about it. Do you understand?”
“Sure, Ralph.” I dropped his fake name sarcastically.
He laughed, “I’m interviewing for an internship on Wall Street. Rafe hooked me up, Blue. It’s nothing more than that.”
“On a Saturday night?”
“Oh, we’re going clubbing first.”
My fists curled as images filled my head of every hussy imaginable running their hands on him. Of him, flirting and laughing and letting them.
“I’d take you but you’re not even an adult yet.”
“Yet you kiss me like I am.”
“True and pretty soon—I’ll do a lot more than that.”
I said nothing as I sagged against the wall and watched him walk out softly shutting the front door as he exited.
My butt slid down the wall. I sunk to the floor. My finger traced my bee stung lips, still swollen from his kiss.
Where did I go from here? Do I come clean and tell him who I am? Do I let myself fall knowing at any second this thing between us could explode?
If he truly has feelings for me, will he hate me? Since the girl he has been falling for, is a complete lie?
My head banged against the wall. He’s a drug I can’t quit. I never could. But instead of breaking my addiction all I’ve done is made it worse.
“Romina?”
“How can you even look at me? How?”
Zio shuffled over, sighing, “Easy. I love you little lioness. I’ll never turn my back on you. Never.”
“But I… love him. I’m falling in love with him.”
“Love is a lie. Love and hate are a coin, bella. Yours has flipped. It won’t take much to flip back again. Things between a man and woman...,” he gestured with his hand… “they can get complicated.”
“I know,” I sighed. “He’s going to New York. Clubbing with his boys.”
“Come. Eat your supper. Finish your schoolwork and go find a party.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Go party. Take pictures with your phone and put it all on that what’s it called Snapchat?”
I rolled my eyes. “Zio you are a genius.”
He nodded. “I still want to hurt that fucker. Go kiss another boy. Dance.”
“Who are you right now?”
He shrugged. “Go. Do it. Otherwise how will you know if it’s him or just your first awakening of desire?”
“Is this the part where you give me a sex talk?”
“Do I need to?”
I shook my head and stood. “No. I’m good. We’re good.” I squeaked, bounding up the stairs. I grabbed my phone off the bed and texted Tati. Zio’s my second father. I hid nothing from him but talking to him about s-e-x with Roque? I’d rather be interrogated by all five families.
Me: Zio ordered me to find a party tonight.
Tati: Seriously? Your uncle is cool AF.
Me:?? Party?
Tati: I’ll text Seb.
Me: Seb?
Tati: Yeah. I think we’re kind of a thing…
The smells of Zio’s homemade sauce wafted up the stairs. I grabbed my laptop and followed my nose finding a heaping plate of homemade cavatelli with sauce waiting. Zio took a seat opposite me and bowed his head. Together we prayed in Italian then spread our napkins.
We chewed in silence for a few minutes and then he lifted his head. “We need to prepare.”
“For what?”
“For when this thing between you and Roque falls apart.”
M
y fork paused halfway to my mouth, “Why are you so sure it will.”
“Because I’m an old man with plenty of bad romances in my past. You’re too young and he’s too hot headed. He’s already making moves in Italy. Even if he wasn’t a Salvatore, I wouldn’t want you near him.”
“That’s ironic since I’m the head of the Palermo’s now.”
Zio scoffed, “You? You are the head of nothing. Where’s your army?”
I folded my napkin. “I’ll make one.”
“When? How?” He gestured.
“In the next chapter of my life. The one after high school. The one if I lose him.”
“God help him.”
“He’ll need more than God’s help if he plays me.”
“I take it you’ve forgiven him for what he’s done.”
I paused with my fork mid-air. “I’ve thought about that quite a lot. He was born into a dark world like I was. He was the heir, he did what was expected but disobeyed his sovrano. He didn’t kill me, Zio. He showed me mercy. How can I not do the same?”
Zio took a deep breath. “I’ll never forgive him for slaughtering our family… for almost taking you. It kills me that you feel this love for him.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. At least you’ve been well trained to take him down if he dares hurt you again.”
“Should I tell him… who we are? Who I am?”
“No. Why? The hit on you still lives.”
“What?” I croaked, trying not to choke on my pasta.
“The Castellione’s know. Since he’s come so close to us. I made a few calls to old friends. Roque trained and lived under Constantine Castellione for a year. Everyone in the old world believes Roque and his cousins were killed with Constantine in a hit. The families blamed each other. To this day they still bicker about who did it.
I gasped. “He did. He killed and faked his death…”
Zio nodded. “He’s free. Free to become anyone he wants and that is the only reason I didn’t kill him just for looking at you the way I do. Like you’re his whole world.”
My heart filled with hope. Maybe we can be normal after all and break free from the past. If Roque gives up the mob life… he’s free to be with me. We could have a normal life somewhere and leave our inherited lives behind.
“What about Chicago? I heard he was making a play there?”
“He is. But he hasn’t publicly claimed his name yet. He’s running under the name The Three Kings. No one knows the Salvatore heir lives, but us.”
“We can leverage that if it comes to it. But I hope it won’t. I just want to be a normal girl for once on the cusp of her first romance.”
And hopefully my last.
“Eat. Go out. Date. Promise me you won’t limit yourself to one man at seventeen.”
“I won’t.”
Liar.
“Don’t tell him your birthday is next month either”. I sipped my water, breaking eye contact. I already felt himself at war with his need to be a better man. But I’d barely given sex a thought until that night in the closet and now, I’ll admit I think about having it with him a lot. And that makes me totally screwed in more ways than just one.
15
“They’re dead. The whole family,” I snarled, curling the tips of my fingers into the glossy black and white photos of me and Blue. I had her pressed up against Johnny’s SUV the night I slummed a high school party knowing she’d be there. The night she tried in vain to fool me. But I tasted the sugar in her kiss. Knew the powder was fake. I understood why she did it. My fierce girl on the verge of being all woman was scared of me. Of us. Of how we combust every time we touch. She’s seen the darkness in me and isn’t afraid of it. I see it in her too. The two of us together is a force neither understands.
I don’t care to analyze it. Twist it around and around in my head or overthink it. All I know is Blue is in me. Digging in deep and burrowing somewhere I thought couldn’t exist: a heart. Fucking flowers and all that shit. Poetry. The words that weave around my head when I think of her and how she makes me feel is sheer poetry. Dark as much as light.
“You wanna handle this personally?” My cousin, Vito’s eyes were cold as death as he looked down into the club below.
Johnny set us up in a soundproof room with a floor made of glass. From our vantage point we could peruse the scene below all the while sitting on black velvet couches with cognac and cigars. To anyone looking up, we were just five guys enjoying a Saturday night.
I nodded to Vito then scooped up the pictures, dumping them on the middle of the table I poured my liquor and flicked my lighter.
Blue and I went up in flames.
I smirked as Johnny freaks out. “You cocksucker! The damn alarms are gonna go off and what I don’t need is my club crawling with fire and police!”
“You mean your Daddy’s club?” Rafe mocked.
Johnny jumped on the table. His heavy black shoes tried to stomp the flames, but her and I…we burn. It’s what we did.
“You knew better.” Geno’s eyes were accusatory.
I shrugged. “I did. But I won’t give her up.”
Vito scowled then starts cursing at me in Italian. “We’ve worked so hard building the foundation to our dynasty and you want to go to war over a high school girl? Geno and I… we did the dirty work. And you take all the credit.”
“Are you challenging me?” My chest puffed out. My eyes glittered like hot coals. My cousins better back the fuck up. I made them. Cared for their families. Made sure everyone they left behind were clothed and fed. Some of their sisters are even doctors today because my blood money paid their way.
“The Castellione’s are a problem. They know you live. Know the Salvatore king has a throne in America.”
“So? Let them come.”
“They already did.”
“The pictures?”
“No, Roque. We had a visitor… a messenger…Vince Castellione.”
“That puppet shit? The one with the big ears and buck teeth?” I remembered Vince from the time I lived with Constantine. Vince was such a fucking lapdog. I remembered thinking he’d never make a good Don. The kid was dumb as a box of rocks.
“He wants a meeting. He handed me the pictures…Roque…they know we did the hit on Constantine.”
“Of course, they do,” I smirked, “we lived. Ran off with his estate’s money and have a foothold in Chicago. But the Castellione’s are still over there. They can’t touch us here.”
“It’s not just them. All the old families are pissed. We broke the rules.”
“Fuck the rules. I make them now.”
“With what army? You still have two more years at Princeton. The Castellione’s want to broker a deal. You need to meet with Vince…”
“Don’t lecture me on what I need to do Vito,” I sneered, feeling the walls closing in. I wasn’t ready for this. For my old life to fuck up and invade my new one. Not yet anyway. Especially now when things with Blue…ah fuck… that girl we have places we need to go together, and this shit is complicating things.
“I don’t see a point.”
“There’s a hit out on you and the girl.”
“Pussies,” I muttered, downing my drink and slamming the empty lowball glass down on the charred photos still smoking.
“Don’t take it lightly. I can spare a few men from here but the five families from Italy? If I fuck with them for you… the wrath of the families here will be on my head. Use your head, Roque. The big one. If the old school mob starts a beef here in the states, everyone will want a say. Even the Lamatti’s.”
“You’re supposed to be on my side, you fuck.”
“I am.”
Pacing to the corner, I looked down at the Club. The girls. The boys. All the people having a regular Saturday night with no idea of the wars that really go on. Never reported. Never known about. Bodies disappear in our wars. It never touched the real world.
“Fine. Set the meet with the Castellion
e bitch. Here in New York. Johnny can give us more cover. I don’t want any of them breathing in one lungful of air in Chicago. That air belongs to us and I’m not sharing. If they want a piece… they need to build their own turf. The Chinese have LA locked down. The Irish have Boston. Johnny’s crew, New York. Where the fuck are they going to go?”
“Detroit. I heard Detroit.” Vito lit his cigar.
“Good luck with that. Local gangs got that shit locked up.”
Geno nodded and fired off a text using one of his burner cells. It beeped with a reply two minutes later.
“They’re coming tomorrow night.”
My brows lifted. “Something must be urgent.” Johnny started barking out orders into his phone, setting up a secure place to meet where our backs will be covered.
“Do you want me there?”
“No, Rafe. I don’t need you. Stay clean like you always do.” He nodded and called it a night. I knew if I asked, he’d do it. Take a Glock and have my back. But having a friend on the outside is sometimes more valuable than a loyal thug on the inside.
“No.”
The word dropped like a bomb from my lips.
Vince Castellione is a short, fat, pug. I can’t even imagine what his sister must look like. And he wants me to marry her?
“You refusing this alliance is an insult. Refusing my sister is a personal insult.”
“I could give two fucks.”
“You will, when we finally finish what should have ended in Palermo.”
“What in the fuck are you talking about?”
“The girl… the Fiorello girl… she still lives. Ending her and you…will be my greatest pleasure.”
He fingered the gun tucked under his belt. Stupid fuck. It might be a while since the pit, but the cold darkness still clings to me. Only Blue chases it away for a while. Something tightened in my gut. Both are mine. Blue and the Fiorelli girl. I don’t question the fierceness of it. Both belong to me. Pieces of them pierced me and stayed.
With my hands fisted deep in the pockets of my impeccable navy suit, I strolled toward him, stopping inches from the fat fuck. His men stiffened. Guns were drawn. I leaned into his face so close; my eyes took in the hundreds of blackheads dotting his nose. “You’re such an ugly little fuck, eh? You couldn’t torture me into fucking your sister. She’s probably just as hideous as you.”