Femme Fatale

by Kirsty-Anne Still

  I look at Bruno, and I see him control his breathing. I thought I had caused anarchy in the Abbiati family fold, but apparently, we never knew it until now.

  “Where is the fucker?!” Giovanni’s coarse voice pierces the air; he’s angry and he’s not hiding it. He’s gaining on the gym, his heavy feet coming down the wooden staircase, and I know he’ll be a monster.

  However, the moment he’s in the room, Giovanni’s intent is quickly changed. Enzo goes in for the first attack. He charges, fists balled, and face taut with rage. His entire body now radiates high levels of maddening fury.

  “What is your problem?” Enzo yells on approach. “He’s your brother.”

  “He’s a fucking disgrace, Enzo! He’s not my brother!” Giovanni yells back, but is silenced when Enzo lands a solid punch to his jaw.

  There are no words, just total disorder as the pair begins to viciously fight. I put my arm around Manuel, making sure he stays out of the way, and keep my eye on Bruno. I know he wants to be in Enzo’s position, but if he goes home busted up, Allana will lose her mind and demand all sorts of answers. I won’t put him in that predicament. I reach out for him, and I see how tormented he is with trying to starve his inner rage rather than feeding it and fighting Giovanni with Enzo.

  “He’s not worth it,” I comment softly. “Let Enzo have this one.” When he gives me a nod, I know he’s only appeasing me, but what else can I do?

  As Enzo yelps, I look back and watch the two of them fight. Man to man. This is total combat before my eyes. Giovanni thinks he can win as he always does, but Enzo has the upper hand – trained, toned, poised ready for the kill. No one messes with the heir to the Abbiati throne. Not even family. I just wonder when Giovanni will learn that.

  I can feel the way that Manuel has tensed that he hates that it’s come down to this. He has never been one to get used to the ideas of our family rules. The more physical the action, the more reward it will grant. We think physical and then think properly afterwards – usually when it’s too late. Manuel is the softest of us all. He will never cause harm because his conscience will truly eat him alive.

  When I look back, it’s just in time to see Enzo nailing another fisted punch to Giovanni’s jaw and send him flying backwards, effectively ending the fight. He hits the floor with brute force and remains winded while Enzo towers over him.

  “You dare lay a hand on our little brother again, and next time I won’t let you get up breathing,” Enzo spits, and as he heaves, I know it’s not breathlessness, but his frenzied rage trying to calm. “Just because I play peacekeeper most of the fucking time doesn’t mean I refrain from doing what’s right. Lately, I’ve let you get away with too much, Gio. I should’ve punched your lights out a long time ago. Give me reason to and next time I will rearrange your face, got it?”

  Giovanni does nothing but pick himself off the floor, trying hard to hide his bruised ego. “Wait until Papà hears about this one.” Giovanni begins to laugh, and I can see rich intent buzz to life. He’s eager and looking forward to selling his own brother out. He wipes blood from his lips, and his laughter turns into hysterics. “His perfect little family is bunch of fucking misfits!” He swings around and stares at Manuel, and I feel fear beckon at the fierce intent in his eyes, but I stand my ground and remain moving. I become the strength my baby brother can’t exude himself. “We’d be perfect if you hadn’t even have been born!” Giovanni lashes out, pointing to both Manuel and me. “You are one of the greatest downfalls ever.”

  “I think you need to back away,” I comment, trying to defuse the situation, but I can see that Giovanni is exercising his God complex, and even I won’t escape an attack of it. Just as my thoughts clarify, he turns to me, his eyes boring straight into me.

  “And you,” he starts to say, pointing his finger directly at me. “You’re the other disgrace to this family, Amelia. When Papà comes back, I hope to God he finally reforms this family! It’s fucking falling apart, and he’s allowing it. You might kill people, but I know you, Amelia, you don’t give a shit about being a part of us. You do it for selfish reasons.” He takes a stride forward, his eyes menacingly fixed on me. “You do it for absolution where Papà is concerned, and you do it to buy yourself some sweet, sweet time with that motherfucker Maverick. Well, let me tell you something, Princess, I don’t care about fucking orders, one day soon I will do justice for this family and murder him right. I don’t mean attempt it or threaten it like you do, but I’ll make sure his head is served to Papà on a silver fucking platter!”

  I grind my teeth, telling myself not to react.

  “And do you know what I’ll do after that?” he asks me but doesn’t leave me chance to respond. “I’ll laugh in your face and hand you his cock considering that’s all you want!”

  And that’s the sorry truth about Giovanni Abbiati – he just doesn’t get it. He’s all about abuse, murder, sex with random women, but he hasn’t the first idea about love. He doesn’t receive it nor does he offer it. He’s shut off from the world and no one will ever penetrate the hard exterior he has built around him.

  “I can’t wait to watch you cry over his dead body, Amelia,” he continues, his voice so filled with mirth I’m rocked to the core at how callous he’s become. “I cannot wait to render you a sniveling little mess that will only be discarded from our family. Papà will finally see how his prodigal daughter really is. I can’t wait to see his face when he realizes just how weak and pathetic you really are.”

  “He already knows,” I state, owning up to the truth. I release Manuel and step forward, brazen and fully aware of what I’m doing. “I see it every time he looks at me. So don’t worry when I get a chance, I’m cutting loose and never looking back.” I back away now, telling myself to cool it. I know if I continued onwards, I will physically lash out. “And if you hurt Zane in any way possible... sleep with one eye open, Giovanni. Just because we’re related by blood doesn’t mean I grant you any type of salvation; just like you wouldn’t me. You know what I’m capable of.”

  “I’m not scared of you,” Giovanni tells me, hardening ever more to the hostility in the room.

  “Well, maybe you should be,” I counter and turn back to my brothers.

  I grab onto Manual’s hand and pull him out of the room. We head back up the stairs and we go straight for the kitchen. I force him to take a seat at the breakfast bar and look for something to grab from the freezer to go over his eye. I find an ice pack and pull it out. I cross the room and look at how awkward Manuel has become. I never want him to feel he can’t be the real him.

  “I want you to know that whatever happens I love you,” I say and press the ice pack to his bruised eye. “Okay?” I ask, and he nods weakly, his eyes watering. I set the ice pack down and fix him with my sole attention. “Manuel, this isn’t something to be ashamed of. Giovanni is a bastard who wants to exert power, but what he did to you was wrong. It’s unforgiveable, and I want you to know that whatever happens, I will always by your side.”

  “What about Papà?” Manuel asks meekly, and I see the terror in him.

  “You don’t worry about him. We’ve got your backs on that matter,” I tell him confidently. I even offer him a small smile of comfort in the hope he’ll just calm down a little.

  I hear the front door open and watch to see who it is. I feel relief flood me when Carlo comes into the room, but it’s short lived when I see urgency masking him. When his sight lands on Manuel, he does lose it all, quickly replacing it with concern.

  “Giovanni used his anger toward him. Just a black eye, nothing serious,” I comment before he can ask and furrow my brows together at what had him near enough running into the wrong. “What’s wrong?” I swear I cannot tolerate more aggravation for today.

  “I need to talk to you.”

  The look Carlo pairs the comment with has me worried.

  “Okay,” I say and look at Manuel. “Hold that on there. I want that swelling going down before I leave.” Once Manuel is hol
ding the ice pack firmly to his face, I follow Carlo out to the nearby hall. “What is it?”

  “I need to know if you want me to work on getting Zane out from under the radar for definite. I mean, if you do, it’ll take longer, but otherwise, I can have you out of here by the end of next week. I have it all set up; I’m just waiting to settle on a house and getting your documents finalized.”

  “I don’t care about that right now,” I say defiantly. I see the confusion it casts upon my brother, but I have other motives now. “I want Manuel out of this family before me. I want him saved, Carlo.”

  I sacrifice my own happiness for Manuel’s, and I don’t feel even an ebb of regret.

  ***

  Letting myself in, I hear the radio playing and hear Zane puttering about. I roll my eyes, knowing he should still be resting. I drop my bag, take off my coat, and head toward the kitchen. I stop myself in the doorway and watch him. He’s only in sweats, dancing around to the music while he cooks.

  It amazes how far he is into his recovery after just a few short weeks. A month ago, my life was falling apart around me, and now it’s suspended in bliss. A month ago, Zane was shot – dying even – and I put my entire family life at jeopardy to run to his bedside. Now, he’s here alive and healing. We spend late nights curled up with a movie, leisurely mornings together wrapped up under the duvet, and every other moment I’m not with my brothers living a life I never allowed myself to dream.

  “Oh, you’re home,” he comments, stopping to notice my presence. He looks at me with elation that I’m finally here.

  The sound of that puts a small smile on my face. Home. I don’t know how long it’ll last, but in the here and now, I cannot do without it. It’s my one small piece of sanctuary in an otherwise insane world.

  He dazzles me with a bright smile, putting the pan down to approach me. He draws me into his arms and I just hold onto him as he kisses into my neck. Slowly, we pull away from one another, reluctance befriends me suddenly, and I tighten my little grip. I want to revel in this moment a little while longer. My family home is in the midst of total destruction, but this one here is the calmest thing I have ever known.

  “So, it’s nice to see you up and about, but I have one issue with it,” I say, finally pulling away to look at him. He cocks a brow, coercing me to continue. “I’ve resisted jumping you since you got discharged because I was scared to hurt you, but here you are cooking,” I tease, smirking at him playfully. “Should I strip now or in a moment when we’re in the bedroom?”

  “What a question,” he murmurs and kisses me. “I’m only making pancakes,” he muses lightly back at me. “Nothing strenuous and I didn’t know when you’d be home and I got hungry. So I’m afraid I’ll have to jump you after I’ve been fed.” When I pout at him, he chuckles. “I need my strength through this recovery, and apparently, what’s to come later. And I’m not allowing you the chance to bite my cock again, Sweetheart, by not being on my A game.” He winces as he remembers, and as I giggle, he continues, “You left teeth marks the last time.”

  I tilt my head, faking a pout of sympathy. “Aw, my poor baby, you weren’t complaining of soreness when you were banging me two minutes after,” I retort, giving him a glare of sarcasm. “You were quite quick to attack after my little bite.”

  “It’s how you like it,” he tells me, giving me a wink. “It’s actually because you had left me waiting a long time, Amelia. I wasn’t going to let you talk yourself out of that moment when we were so far into it.”

  “And look where it got us,” I muse softly, smiling in absolute glee at how our lives had transpired. I could almost imagine that everything outside of Zane’s apartment just didn’t exist. For a moment, the world stands still as we live harmoniously.

  “I’d say eternal happiness,” he tells me, and pulling my body back close, his arms clenched around my waist. “Now, tell me what’s on that pretty little mind.” My silence makes him chuckle. “I can read you like a fucking book, woman.”

  “Can we talk over food?” I ask, desperately after something edible. “I’ve done a lot of working out, a lot of arguing, and not a lot of eating.”

  “Only if you go and sit down. You can tell me while I cook, not while we eat.” Zane’s polite manner has me sold, but I desperately want to step in and cook for him. I worry about him too much. “You’re going to sit and talk while I cook the batch of pancake mix I made.”

  “Okay,” I whisper and shuffle over to the kitchen table and chair. When I sit, he turns the music down, and then turns the heat to the stove up. I scratch my head, and my eyes casually fall upon the clock on the wall; shit, is that time? “It’s seven in the evening, what about dinner instead?”

  “What about it?” he asks me, offering me a smirk. “It’s not like we’ve skipped dinner and gone straight for dessert before. Usually that’s less stomach filling, but still the same principle.”

  Why wasn’t I more prepared for that remark?

  “We can order in later if you want?” he quickly adds and looks at me. “But talk, now.”

  I sigh and wonder where to start. “Giovanni started a world war– again.” This time I growl at how angry I am, my fists even balling up. Just thinking of how confused Manuel was has me raging inside. “I don’t know what to do anymore to protect Manuel, and it’s bugging me.”

  “Why would you need to protect him?” Zane asks as he pours some of the batter mix into the hot pan. “You do so much already, why isn’t that enough?”

  “Because before now, Manuel’s kept it quiet that he’s gay.” I see Zane’s eyebrows shoot up with surprise but don’t stop. “It changes nothing for me, and the way Enzo and Bruno went for Giovanni proved they don’t think any less. Carlo didn’t care, wanted blood when Giovanni finally showed his face again. But Gio, he attacked Manuel for it, and all but vowed to tell our father.” I shake my head, closing my eyes to stop the horrors from lashing at me. “I don’t even want to think what will happen if he were to find out.”

  I say nothing else, just result in another growl that ultimately leads to an onslaught of tears. I don’t even look at Zane, just sit defeated, and wonder what in the hell has my life, spiraling so viciously out of control, because my love for Zane does not jeopardize Manuel. I cover my eyes and will myself to grow some balls and man up, but I can’t.

  “Hey,” Zane breaks into my emotions, interjecting my downward spiral.

  “The pancakes,” I try to push him away. I speak through tears, trying to get him away from seeing me emotionally wrecked.

  “The damn pancake can burn, Amelia.” He speaks while he holds onto me, and I dare myself to look up at him. As I do, I see the light-hearted expression he bears, the worrisome look swimming in his eyes, and the readiness to attempt to solve all my problems. “This really has you torn up, doesn’t it?”

  I nod, and my eyes water profusely. “I just want him away from my family. I want him away from the corruption.” I look at Zane, doubt filtering into every cell of my being. “Look what my father’s made of me, Zane. I don’t want this life for him. It’s not fun when you realize what you are.” And now, the tears beckon without any care, ambushing my cheeks. “I don’t want him to be a monster.”

  “You’re not a monster,” Zane counters, the pancakes truly forgotten as he pulls us seat up.

  “I am,” I admonish miserably. “How can you say I’m not?”

  “Because monsters share no emotion over what they are. They revel in it. They love the power and control they have. They love their ability to manipulate and prey. They love the thrill of the kill. If you had any of that, Amelia, you wouldn’t be looking to fight for your brother and save him. You wouldn’t give a fuck about him. You’d be up there with people like Giovanni, ready to feed Manuel to your father.” He lifts his hand up to wipe my errant tears away and just offers me a glimmer of hope with his support. “You would’ve killed me by now, Amelia. You would have, if you were a true monster.”

  “I can’t kill yo
u,” I remark, my voice slowly disintegrating. “Because I love you.”

  “Exactly, my point. You feel too much.” His tone is so focused with sincerity, and I can tell he’s fighting to save my soul. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t have been by my bedside in such a beautiful mess after the shooting. You wouldn’t have been the one thing I needed if I knew you were capable of being a true killer. I wouldn’t keep you with me day in and day out. I wouldn’t want you here with me. I couldn’t bear to love a monster, Amelia. When you told me what you did and the pieces all fell together, I still loved you. I see how conflicted and twisted you are because of your father. Sweetheart, he’s taught you to be something your conscience can’t keep up with. It’s eating you away. I can see it is.” His thumb massages across my cheek, the pad gentle against my tear stricken face. “There is going to come a time, extremely soon, where you will snap.”

  “I can feel it happening already,” I agree but then look over his shoulder. “Are you going to save the pan now seeing as that burning smell is really making it hard to focus on the moment?”

  “Fuck!” he swears and quickly shoots from his seat over to the stove. The sight causes me to laugh through my continual tears. “Erm, I might need a new pan now.” His comment comes with him tossing the entire thing into the sink. He quickly goes for another pan and sticks it over the flame.

  While he waits for the new pan to heat up, he stands before me, eyes glued upon me as I sit before him, silent and vulnerable. I decide now is the time to ask my own billion dollar question.

  “If I were to ask you if you’d run away with me, what would you say?” My question is verbalized meekly, and my immediate answer is the Manhattan traffic from outside – Zane remains silent. I dare myself to look at Zane, and I gulp. “If I were to say, let’s leave. Would you?”

  Slowly, a smile creeps across Zane’s face. “Yes.” His reply is stated with simplistic conviction, and my heart swells. “No, I’d actually say, ‘what the fuck took you so long, Sweetheart?’ and then I would run like hell and never look back.”