“The girl who shook my empire.” He starts a slow clap as I walk closer to where he sits. “Sit,” he commands. My heart beats straight into my throat.
I take a seat, doing my best not to show any emotion or weakness. I know from Vincent there’s no quicker way to get myself killed.
“Look at you.” His voice is unnervingly calm as he stares me up and down, considering what’s before him. Pulling a cigarette from a Marlboro Red pack at the center of the table, he lights up and takes a deep inhale.
I remember the first time I met him at Angelo’s pawnshop; he’s still just as frighteningly magnetic. But I’m no longer the scared girl I once was. I straighten my back, waiting to hear what he has to say. If I’m going to die, I won’t go down as a scared child. He notices the shift in my demeanor and smiles.
Still, I try to keep my face unreadable.
“The little girl from the hood has risen,” he says, seemingly to himself. His fingers tremble as he brings the cigarette back into his mouth for another long drag, the smoke billowing from his mouth as he speaks. “I remember you as a terrified kid. And now here you are—trapping my son with that pussy of yours.”
His fist, resting on the table, clenches.
“He went to prison seven years ago.” He leans back into the chair and crosses one leg over his knee. “I figured that would be the trick to get you guys separated for good. You see, a woman like you is terrible for business. Love? I hate the word. In the same way I hate all pathetic and needy people.” He grinds his teeth, pitching forward. “But could he just forget you? Nope. Vincent comes out of lockup and heads straight here.” He lifts his hand like an airplane and flies it toward me. “You fucked up his head, girl.”
His eyes are unfocused. He’s on a rant, so much in his own mind that I wonder if he even realizes I’m sitting in front of him. Antonio Borignone is no longer the self-contained man I knew. No wonder Vincent thought the family was a losing bet.
“What a joke,” he hisses. “To think my son now lives in a fucking trailer on an Indian Reservation. Left the family for this fuckin’ shit. And with a woman from the goddamn gutter.”
He stands up and walks to the wooden kitchen cabinets, pulling one open. With a sweep of his hand, spices and cans clatter onto the ground and roll around the floor.
“He should be living like a king, running the Milestone while readying himself to run my empire.” He laughs, shaking his head as he turns back to me. “He should be the prince I raised him to be. But for you, he gives up his life and all the possibilities and the money and the power and the women. It’s sickening.”
I glance up at the clock. Where is Ax?
“If you’re waiting for that moron to come for you, you’re wasting your time. I shot him in the head just as he left.” He shrugs casually, sitting back down in the chair.
Before I can feel terror, a thought hits me like a freight train: It’s not my time. Vincent is going to come out of his coma and when he does, I’m going to be by his side. I’m not letting this lunatic take it all away.
And for maybe the first time in my life, I know I deserve better. All my life, it was about working hard and getting out of the ghetto. But no matter how high I climbed, I never believed I was actually worth more. I’ve been pushed around and bullied for years. My mother’s emotional abuse. My near rape with Carlos. Daniela, the bitch from hell. Even Jonathan and the DBC. And now this psycho—who sent his own son to jail and tried to murder him—blames me for Vincent and me falling in love? I’m finished with this shit. I know who I am and I know my value. The days of letting people run over me are done. I shift in my seat, steadying myself. If I go down today, it will not be quietly.
“You have anything to say before you die?” He pulls out his gun and grips it in the palm of his hand. The look in his eyes completely unhinged. A voice inside my head tells me to keep him talking and delay our standoff. If the camera was on like Ax had said, Slade should have seen Antonio entering. Still, if one of us has to die, it won’t be me. To make it out alive, I’m ready to do whatever it is I have to do.
“Vincent told me that your uncles started the Borignone mafia.” My voice comes out stronger than it has the right to be. “It’s so impressive what you’ve accomplished. Clearly, you took what they started and created an empire. How did you manage it?”
If my memory from Psychology 101 serves me right, egomaniacs are possessed by delusions of prominence, but frequently feel a lack of appreciation. Hopefully, this should get him talking.
He places the gun down on the table before grazing the muzzle with his index finger. Turning his head toward the window, he stares at the mountains.
“I began as a kid. Let me tell ya, my uncles were the real deal. I met your mother shortly after I started with ‘em. She was gorgeous and wild, recently came from Russia with a baby. Danced at one of our clubs. Enzo had a thing for her.” He taps the end of the cigarette, ash snowing on the floor. “Threw a vase at one of the doors in your shitty apartment, once.” He laughs as if reminiscing about the golden days. My heart slows to a steady pound. It’s working.
“She used to party with us. Hot as fuck. Into the drugs, of course.” He takes another smoke from the pack and lights it up. “Complained a lot about you. That’s why she got you the job with Angelo. Figured if you stayed in our hold, you’d keep it in mind who you were and stop dreaming.” He blows upward, smoke circling around his head like a devilish halo.
“There are people in this world who eat shit. And because they do, they think that every other person on the planet should, too. They hate anyone who tries to do better because they themselves can’t do better. That’s your mom. And let me tell ya, she wasn’t wrong.
Lifting a finger, he points at my face. “Your mom and I were always on the same page. Sure, I lived like a king and she was addicted to meth. But both of us set our lives in motion. Your mother was a crack whore. Why should you be allowed to just escape or do better? She had no choice but to stay in the life—why should you be able to just leave when she couldn’t? And why should Vincent be allowed to just do whatever-the-fuck he wants?” He slams his hand down on the table and his cigarette flies out of his mouth and onto the floor. I don’t allow my body to jump.
“I created a kingdom,” he shouts, looking at me with crazed eyes. “Vincent doesn’t get to just walk away. I’m the creator. I’m the ruler.” He pants, his mouth foaming white at the corners.
My hand steadily presses against the gun in the back of my jeans. The man is so involved in his words, he wouldn’t notice the entrance of a wild animal. I internally smile.
Life isn’t just about escaping my past circumstances but thriving despite them. With confidence I never knew I possessed, I remove the piece, aiming it straight in front of me. I can’t stall any longer. Antonio pauses, mouth settling on a smirk. The asshole thinks I don’t have the guts.
“You see, Antonio.” I lick my dry lips before pointing the gun at the center of his head. “Me and Vincent aren’t in your hold anymore. And now there is another thing you and my mother have in common. She’s dead. And so are you.”
I pull the trigger on the exhale. Blood, black like tar, and pieces of bone and brain matter spray across the room. I’m not sure how long I’m sitting there with the gun clasped in my hands, but the next thing I know, Slade is running into the trailer saying something I can’t understand.
He’s got me in his arms and I feel warmth and safety. I turn to him as he speaks. “The doctor called—he’s waking Vincent up today. Antonio is dead, now. You’re free. Do you hear me, Eve? You’re free.”
“V-Vincent?” I manage to stutter out, shaking.
“Just calm down now. You’ll be all right.”
I hear an ambulance in the distance as I hang onto Slade, clinging to him as my body trembles in shock.
Slade accompanies me to Vincent’s room, leaving me at the doorway to give us privacy. The nurse shuffles out. “Be gentle, darling. He doesn’t remember much
of what happened.” I make my way inside, slowly.
Vincent turns his head to me and I can’t stop my gasp. Dark, red-rimmed eyes. Heavy black scruff along his jaw. Slash down his face, stitched. Hair overgrown.
But, he’s here.
“Come.” His voice is a dry and broken rasp.
I run toward him and drop my head on his chest, thinner from drugs and ventilation.
“Tell me. What happened?” He asks.
I take a piece of ice with my fingers from a cup on his side table and bring it to his cracked lips. He shuts his eyes in relief as it melts into his mouth. He stares at me again, waiting for me to speak. I drop the cube back into the cup before breaking down and spilling everything. How the B.B. was hired by his father to take him. Entering the clubhouse. Crow. When I get to killing Antonio, his shock and relief are palpable as understanding fills his face.
I grip his hand. “We’re free.”
“We’re free,” Vincent repeats my words slowly, as if he needs to come to terms with them, too.
“I’ve been here since yesterday morning. The tribal police—they had so many questions. I was stuck here, answering everything. I k-killed him. Antonio is dead now. Self-defense, of course. The cameras show him breaking and entering and—”
He hums, shutting his eyes. Seeing Vincent so weak is devastating.
When it’s time for discharge, I ask the nurse to leave so I can help him dress. His entire body seems broken and yet, here he is—with me. I know he’ll heal.
We get into the car and take the back seat as Slade drives us back to the trailer.
I begin crying into Vincent’s shoulder.
“I wake up from a coma to see you constantly crying?” His lips quirk in a small smile, different from his old one—almost, weary. His entire face is so bruised, I can barely recognize him.
I cry harder. “I’m crying because I love you. I’m crying because I’m so happy you’re w-with me.” I keep my arms wrapped around his chest because I can’t let go. If he isn’t comfortable, he doesn’t say.
“Are you staying tonight?” His words come out insecure.
“I’m figuring out my next steps. Lauren’s selling my apartment and I resigned from work. I’m here now.”
“We’ll work it all out together, yeah? We’ve got time. But if you want, you can go—”
“No. I’m doing this. I’m going to explore a different path for my life. The firm wasn’t working for me and anyway, I have some ideas.” He squeezes my hand in his.
I’m emotionally crumbled, but Vincent is with me. It’s the best day of my life.
28
Vincent
Six Months Later
Angelo stands on a flat rock, smiling happily in a black pinstriped suit as beads of sweat drip down his sideburns. In order to officiate this moment, he became ordained. As the only father Eve has ever known, I know it means the world to her that he’s doing this. He stares at me in deference and I nod my head back in reply. It’s a little piece of my old life.
The mountains surround us, giving us privacy, yet looming large and serving as a reminder that there is something greater out in the universe above us all.
Eve and I hiked here when I was well enough to walk. She made us sandwiches of fresh-baked bread, roasted turkey, and vegetables. Packing it all together with two miniature wine bottles and chocolate chip cookies, she managed a perfect feast. It only took half an hour for her to get tipsy and giggling. My heart got so fuckin’ full, there was nothing left to do but get down on a knee and swear my never-ending love and devotion. I would have begged if I had to, but luckily, she only wrapped her arms around my neck and cried.
Lauren and Janelle stand on the left side of Angelo, both in short colorful dresses. Slade and I are situated on his right, wearing khaki slacks and white shirts. Janelle gives me a half smile as if she’s saying, “Let’s make peace.” I chuckle, knowing that beneath that nice-girl façade she’s cursing me. She is going to have to learn to deal with me, though. Eve’s about to be my wife, and I plan on never letting her out of my sight until the day I die.
Slade taps my shoulder. “Any minute now, brother.” He faces ahead and I watch him flush. He’s staring at Lauren, who’s adjusting the straps on her dress. I’ve never seen Slade as anything but serious, and truthfully, I like it. Lauren’s a good girl.
I was angry at him for risking Eve’s life to save mine, but she convinced me to forgive him. Eve made it clear that she is her own woman, and she was the one who chose to come to my rescue. “...I’m not a doll Slade can control. He put out the option, and I took it.” I can’t stop the smile spreading across my face because Eve is everything, and then some. Damn, I love my woman.
It took her time to come to terms with the fact that she killed Antonio, and emotionally, she wasn’t doing so well. While the feds—down to the local police—knew that she acted out of self-defense, killing a man, no matter how deserved, is a sickening feeling and something I understand all too well.
Returning from the hospital, she began having dreams that she killed me instead of my father. Sweating and crying out, I tried to wake her gently, not wanting to shock her. When she’d come to realize I was still next to her, she would only cry harder.
The last few months, she’s been getting much better. With the help of a fantastic psychologist, who she speaks with a few nights a week on video chat, Eve’s beginning to cope with everything from her mother’s abuse up to killing Antonio. Finally living together without any constraints or secrets helps, too. We cook and work and love each other daily.
My fingers move to my face, the scar from my eye down to my chin is raised and still slightly tender. The pinky on my right hand is gone, although I do have phantom pain. My limp is here to stay, thanks to my shattered kneecap. While my physical body has taken a serious beating, I’m lucky to say I’ve still got all my mental faculties. The Milestone is no longer encumbered by any Borignone interference. Life is better than ever.
Tom stepped up as the new boss. He and I spoke. He swore no one will ever touch me again; the entire underground knows that I am no longer affiliated. Turns out one of the newer members had an idea of how the family can clean and house their dirty cash out in Argentina and the Milestone is no longer necessary for their operation. Regardless, I know Tom would never keep me tethered. The family may be my past, but Tom and I will always be brothers.
At any rate, today is not about yesterday. It’s about starting my life with the only woman I’ve ever loved. The photographer I hired comes over to where the five of us stand, taking snapshots to memorialize the moment. The lone violinist, sitting a few feet away from us, plays the instrumental version of “Next to Me” by Imagine Dragons. My heart pounds. This is our song.
I blink and she appears—Eve. A long white gown with delicate straps falling off her slender shoulders, she glides down the small aisle filled with white flower petals. She slightly bends her head to stare at her feet, all innocence and truth. I couldn’t stop my own tears if I tried. I already know she’s wearing no jewelry. Our mutual commitment is based on who we are as people, not on any material possessions.
I remember her as a kid sitting with me in a pizza shop, eating together and talking about Italy. Teaching her to skate in Central Park while she gripped onto me for dear life. Studying in our bed down in SoHo, buds in her ears as she memorized mathematical formulas beside me. The woman I found her to be when I returned from prison. Brilliant and so beautiful.
And now? My wife.
Solo, she makes her way to the center of the aisle. I feel a pang in my chest—Eve shouldn’t walk alone. Not anymore. My feet move on their own accord as I limp into the aisle. She smiles as I reach her, eyes full of joy. Taking her hand, we walk together to where Angelo and our friends stand. Janelle steps forward, handing her a soft white shawl.
“Wrap this around our shoulders,” Eve tells me, smiling. “Let it symbolize that we’re bound.”
I do as she asks, covering
us in soft cloth as Angelo begins the ceremony. When it’s time, I kiss every finger of her left hand before placing a plain gold ring on her finger. It has no blemishes or stones, serving as a symbol that our marriage will be one of simple beauty. My voice is stronger than ever as I swear to always love and protect her.
After placing an identical ring on my finger, she too swears to always love and protect me. We say the words but both know, deep down, we’ve already proven our vows to each other. I’m struck by the fact that she’s next to me. Loving me.
Our friends clap as we kiss, cheering. I bend down to press my forehead against Eve’s, raising the shawl above our heads and repeating over and over again against her lips how much I love her. It’s no one but us.
We all walk to the picnic area of the park where I surprise Eve with a party filled with music, all of her favorite foods, and twinkling lights. I told Kimber how I envisioned the night, and she managed it perfectly. Eve’s always had a thing for delicious meals and dancing. Even though she said she didn’t need or want a party, she should have it all tonight while surrounded by the people she loves.
“Vincent, how could you?” She slaps my shoulder and I laugh. Her face is warm and utterly euphoric.
“There was no way I was going to let this moment go without celebration.” I wrap my arms around her tiny frame, bringing her against me. “Plus, we’ve gotta dance together, yeah?”
The violinist is joined by a drummer, guitarist, and keyboard player. I hired a DJ as well, because the band couldn’t play all the music Eve loves. Janelle wrote out a list of songs for him and I laughed when I saw the lineup. The girls have a serious thing for Drake that’s been going on for years. Slade told a few of his friends to come as well, and they meander over to where we are with beers in hand, clapping me on the back in congratulations.
Redemption (Vincent and Eve #3) Page 19