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by Kirsty-Anne Still

  When we finally get out of the car, I find Enzo waiting while the others go up into the building. It riles me to see Lorenzo now following Giovanni like a lost puppy and wonder if it was all an act just to get some attention from my father. As sourness becomes me, Carlo leads Manuel and Zane toward the entrance, and even though Zane looks at me, putting his arm out for me to loop onto, he goes ahead and leaves me with Enzo.

  “You’re really going to ignore a man who sticks around through whatever?” he asks me as he puts his arm out for me to take – exactly how Zane just had.

  I loop my arm through his and grin. “We’ve not spoken about the logistics, but we are sticking to our own goals here, Enzo. We work well together, but not when we are together, if that makes sense.”

  He nods as we start to walk in but doesn’t relent, “Try not to be so hard on yourself or him. You only find your better half once, don’t let him go.”

  “What, like you did with Alessandra?” I ask, and I know it’s a low blow when he stops our movements and pulls me aside. But I won’t be beaten down. “You loved her, Enzo. She was perfect for you and you let her go.”

  “Because my life would jeopardize hers,” he says, and I only offer a pointed look, telling him I know that. “Zane is different. He’s willing to commit. She wanted me to leave, Lia. It wasn’t so possible to just up and leave.”

  “Bruno did it,” I counter, admonishing his statement.

  “I’m not Bruno,” he argues, defying my comment with harshness. “My loyalties lie with you and Manuel first. Hell, they even lie with Carlo. If I’m not here, I dread to think what anarchy would be happening. I’m here because I’m meant to be. He, selfishly, got out to make a life with Allana, but I couldn’t walk away from you, Lia. It’s not in me to that.”

  “But maybe it should have been and you wouldn’t be so unhappy!” I dispute feeling myself getting enraged over this.

  “Are you two going to have a secret meeting here all evening or are you going to come and join us in the other room?” my father’s stormy voice breaks into the moment and I’m glad for it – until he continues, that is. “After today’s performance, Amelia, you have a lot of people to win over, not make them cower at every single turn. You can’t get the reputation you want by blowing people up!”

  “Don’t start that,” I groan, and I don’t care if it exacerbates his anger, I’m done with being treated like an insubordinate under his name. “You should really teach men how to treat ladies, Sal. What you give is what you get, and if a man so much as makes one snarky remark at me, I will make a worse one back.”

  “By blowing up a building,” my father argues, his tone tightening.

  “That was just for effect,” I say, patting him on the chest before strutting past him and heading to the main room with my attitude intact. I can hear my father berating my stance and approach but carry on as if nothing is amiss.

  When I find my brothers, I see Giovanni and Lorenzo are already hitting on women by the bar and as I approach them, Carlo and Manuel decide to leave Zane to fend for himself for a moment. I notice people all around are looking at Zane, and he has this wild look in his eyes as he prepares to bolt. I decide it’s time for an appropriate course of action.

  “Get rid of that lost sheep look,” I comment as I come to stand by his side. “They’ll eat you up otherwise.”

  “I don’t know what else to do,” he utters, panic lacing with every word.

  I laugh a little, knowing this feeling, and put a hand to his back. “Let’s go get a drink,” I say and guide him toward the bar on the other side of the room. I deliberately take the opposite end to my scathing brother and Lorenzo and immediately try to gain the attention of the bartender. When he comes over, I order two scotch on the rocks. The moment they’re in front of me, I place one in Zane’s hand. “Drink it up,” I command and turn to look out at the crowd.

  As I hold my drink, I notice one thing in particular – the female attention Zane is getting. As if I’m fucking surprised! The man is every woman’s walking dream and he’s here in front of them all. I look up at Zane, who is totally oblivious at first, and I feel relieved over it. It means my hold on him is still crushingly real, but I know it can’t remain that way and only I can change it. As I notice his gaze wander, I see him clock the same thing I had and lean in to let him know.

  “That pretty little thing has had her eyes on you,” I comment, noting the brunette who has been standing with a redhead and staring for the past five minutes. “Go and talk to her. Make a new buddy. Hell, if I were you, I’d go and get yourself a little Bella on your arm for the evening. You might even find a good night cap in her,” I joke, but that last bit hurt far more to say than I want to admit, but I’m building up my guise toward my heart’s desires.

  “What about you?” Zane asks, his brow furrowing with his confusion.

  “What about me?” I ask him, giving a tight smile as if to say I’m okay. “As you said, I called us nothing, so you have every right to go and indulge a little.” I watch as he hesitates between what he wants to do and what he should do. “So, go.”

  He shifts to the right, blocking the girl whose eyes are firmly on him and looks at me.

  “Really,” I tell him, offering another forced grin. However, I quickly let it all fall away and offer him a more relaxed expression to be honest with him. “My father wants you to prove yourself to him before you even get me. I nailed the final bolt into the coffin of any hope we had, so go and enjoy attention from someone who won’t give you a verbal beat down.”

  “Amelia,” he starts, declining what I’m proposing.

  “Really.” I stop him from going further. “Go make some friends, Zane. You need to start building some alliances. Go charm her because I know for a fact that her father is quite a powerful man in the business. I’m pretty sure if my father could see you schmoozing well with his associates, you’d be more in the good graces than ever.”

  “Only if you’re okay,” he says. He’s looking at me with troublesome eyes, and I can see he’s struggling to differentiate between keeping me happy and keeping my father appeased.

  “Go and give her the Zane Maverick experience,” I reply, pushing him to go. I turn him on the spot and push him away, and as he goes, I feel him take a part of me with him.

  I know, deep down, this is for the best. I have to force distance between us, and if I have to force him to talk to other women, then I will. Right now, after the last few months, I really have to focus on what I’m going to do with my life without my heart complicating any of it. The yearn my body has grown accustomed to for Zane won’t ever silence, but I can suppress it and strive for some peace from my reckless heart. I need to keep business and pleasure as far separate as humanly possible, and I hope my father is watching to see the sacrifices I’m making to do so.

  I grip onto my tumbler of whiskey, thankful for having it to nurse the moment, and watch as he approaches the beautiful brunette. Within a few seconds, he has her laughing. They always say the first cut is the deepest, they just never tell you how much you’ll bleed from it. I forced this predicament, but the hurt that accompanies it isn’t something I want to become familiar with. Envy rises from within, cutting and wounding me with tormenting lashings and I have to finish my drink in order to numb it. I’m a masochist for still watching, but I’m telling myself it will serve as remembrance. The sight before me tells me how I am not made to get what I want. My life isn’t governed by perfect starts and flawless endings. It’s woven with unpredictability and sacrifice and I must remember that, no matter what, you have to keep smiling to appeal to the opposition. One misdeed or moment of carnal distraction could well be your undoing.

  It’s just a shame I’m still trying to climb out from rock bottom to do so, and I’m failing miserably.

  I decide to move myself, making it seem like I’m not hell-bent on Zane like everyone thinks, and as I exchange my empty glass for a flute of champagne, I spot an empty table in the corne
r. There’s no one around for me to impress. This is a night of indulging, so I sit in my corner and watch him charm her. There’s no groping or heavy handedness. Nothing like what set us on fire when we first met. He’s calm and delicate with her and my envious nature flares up because of it – why couldn’t I have this side of him, too? Zane is just wowing her with his gorgeous smile and dashing good looks. I remind myself that when two sparks meet, the consequential flame is magnificently blinding. I should be grateful I know how that feels. The rise of jealousy is swallowed by a large gulp of champagne, and I find it isn’t so vast and colossal this time, and I wonder if it’s because I know that whoever he woos and whatever beguiling guise he puts on for a woman, I’ll be the one buried deep in his heart.

  It just doesn’t stop that cold rush of envy racing through my body when my alcoholic buzz begins to fade.

  Tearing my gaze away, I look down at my flute, watching the bubbles rise within the liquid and stow away my miserable attitude. I know after a few more drinks, either I’ll be perfecting the mask of a liar or be so miserable that I have to leave. I would really rather the latter never existed because I don’t want to wear the millions of different pieces of my heart on my sleeve for everyone to see. That’s not going to be the correct image my father wants from an Abbiati. If I’m found acting like this for too long, I’ll no longer be able to keep alive the idea of the Dio Lavoro – a legend of fiercely strong, passionately heartless successors.

  “I can’t do it.” Zane’s voice penetrates into my reverie, and I look up to see him stepping toward me. “I can’t talk to other women as if they’re some key to my future. Not when you’re in the same room and taking up so much of what’s running through my mind.” I gulp as he comes and steps in before me. “I know what you’re trying to do, Amelia, and as much as I want to accept this as some sort of self-preservation, I can’t.”

  “You have to,” I say, standing up.

  I take his hand and pull him from the room. I don’t stop. If anything, I hasten myself until I find a quiet quarter to the building. I can hear we’re far from the party and the loudest thing in the room is my pounding heart. The beat is so loud, it’s ringing in my ears, the pulsating pump noticeable throughout my body, and I swear, if my ribcage isn’t a fortified chamber, it’s about to break free.

  Before I can speak again, Zane begins to chuckle and as I let his hand go, he grabs my dropping hand in his, threading his strong fingers with mine. I look down at our hands before I dare to look at him, and as I do, his other hand comes up to graciously push my fringe back behind my ear, so not to ruin the style.

  “For an intelligently beautiful woman, you can be the biggest idiot at times.” His words are spoken in a lower tone. He’s noticed the delicacy in the air, too, that he doesn’t want to destroy. “I can see all the restraint you put into pushing me away. It’s hard to watch you deny yourself the one piece of happiness you can’t completely kill. I know I’ve only been in this life for a week, but I’ve lived on the outside of it for so long to believe you’re due a break.” He sighs heavily, exasperation catching him. “I’m here to help you catch it and live out what we did when we were perfect and you were only at your happiest. I’m not going anywhere and that’s final. We can have this chat once, twice, a billion times over, but I cannot and will not go to another woman when the one I love is here.”

  “I don’t know how you can love me so much,” I murmur, my tone twisting with confusion. “After all you know about me, all you’ve been through because of me, how can you even bear to be in the same room with me? I don’t understand, Zane.”

  “I’m not sure there’s any point in trying to make you understand,” he mutters his comments. “My logic is warped.”

  “No kidding,” I tell him, laughing a little.

  “But what’s the point in a normal love story?” he asks me. Our fingers remain locked on the one hand; the other grazes along the length of my jaw. “What’s a fairy tale without dragons and villains?”

  “We’re not the next Disney instalment,” I argue, trying to snatch my hand away from his, but he won’t let me go. “Zane?”

  “Just stop,” he responds with an abrupt tone. He closes his eyes; his hold on my left hand tightens before he exhales and looks at me. “Stop overthinking and stop overanalysing. Just stop and feel, Amelia.” He leans in, keeping my sole attention once more. “Feel everything.”

  “I already do,” I whisper, letting him in on my little secret. I never numb myself to what I witness, what I do, or what I say. I allow everything to take a piece of me, bury itself deep within, and stay with me for life. I feel every death, every piece of pain I inflict and I revel in it because no one else is punishing me for my sins apart from me.

  “Then let me back in.” His response is quietly spoken, and he leans back to watch me. “Stop pushing me away.”

  “I can’t help it,” I utter, finally looking away. “I still don’t understand why you’re hell-bent on loving a psycho.”

  “Had you not noticed lately, but I’m a bit of a psycho myself,” he jokes, lightening the mood exponentially. “I needed your attention but just to prove that’s not all I want.”

  “Then what?” I dare myself to ask.

  His hand falls flat against my jaw, the other one finally letting me go to frame the other side of my face. “I don’t want just your attention, Amelia. I want you, your heart, your soul, your body, your every last breath. I want your absolute everything wrapped so tightly around me that I can’t bear to function outside of the realm of you. Don’t you see? I am a man so desperate for a final chance; I will die making it happen if that is the only way to make you see.” He holds my face, forcing me to look at him, and I can’t look elsewhere; what he’s telling me is reviving my ever-hardening heart. “I don’t want a second, or third, or a fourth chance anymore. I want this chance. I’ve never been a man in love and I’m learning at every turn, but I think I’ve got it now. I think I know what to do and what not to do.”

  “What’s that?” I breathe the words out.

  “Piss you off on a daily occurrence, kiss you like there’s no tomorrow, keep what’s left of your humanity alive. I want to be the man who saves you from sinking past the point of no return. I want to be the man who is your partner in crime. Like today, Amelia. We were equals going into the building and yeah, it went a little off-kilter, but even after I protected you, you stepped up. Not to outdo me, but you stepped up beside me. I want to feel like you and I have one another’s back for life.”

  My eyes begin to water, and I inwardly yell at myself to stop. I’ve heard this spiel before; what makes this time different?

  “There’s just too much to you that I can’t stop myself from loving.” He continues to fight. “I love the way you look when you overthink; your lips purse and there’s this cute little love heart between them. I love when you get angry. Your pupils dilate and the green becomes this striking line around them. I love that thing you do in your sleep when you mumble my name and reach for me. I love how I can make you stutter my name, and I love that you’re running in circles in my mind all day.” He takes another breath, and I know this is a finale in trying to win me over. “And I would rather you shut me down a thousand times, so I could try a thousand more times than walk away saying I never bothered.”

  I struggle to draw a clear breath at that and my eyes begin to water, but I remember the deal I made to myself. I want to cave and go against my better judgment, but I need to see this work. I need to know we aren’t just jumping in head first. I want this to work because I don’t want to be falling back to the dark places we’ve forced upon one another.

  So I whisper all I can. “It’s not so easy, Zane.” I see the hurt reflect immediately in his eyes, and I feel like a massive bitch, but I have to keep it real here. “I have stood before you while you spout a pretty little story about how much you love me and what you want and what we both could be to the other; that it’s now going to be the final time.
There’s so much between us now.” I look away, the enormity of our twisted past’s curses upon me and when I finally look up, I admit the one thing that stops me from believing him again. “Your track record doesn’t inspire me to want to go down that route a fourth and final time.”

  “Then let's start this again, Amelia. No past to keep comparing us to. No murders, no betrayals.” He watches me and I can see he’s trying his hardest with me. Even more so as he extends a hand out to me, waiting for me to shake. “Hi, I’m Zane.”

  “That’s not how I remember our first meeting.”

  My comment is brought with a remembrance how he stopped me leaving a bar one night, blocking my entire exit and gave me a bright grin, complimenting me in the most masochistic way before I rammed my closed fist into his baby balls. He might have dropped like a ten ton weight and I might have stepped over him to leave, but he was back on his feet – albeit difficultly – following me out, telling me that I was the woman of his dreams. It hadn’t been love at first sight, but my tenacity had really won him over.

  “Hi,” I whisper, putting my hand into his. “My name’s Amelia.” I watch the smile begin to creep along his lips, and I attempt to pull my hand away. “This doesn’t mean automatic admittance to my panties. If this is us starting again, we take it slow and you have to trust that I’m not out to hurt you purposefully. I wasn’t before this reintroduction so I won’t be after it. Likewise, the moment you try to evoke some wild jealousy in me with another girl, I’m out. I want this to work, and I’m running out of energy to fight for it. That said, I’m willing to try my damn hardest because I can’t lose you over and over again, but my bed and panties are not going to be an easy feat anymore.”

  “No, I know, but it’s a start,” he tells me, taking my hand and dragging me back to the party. “And that’s far better than an end.”