“Is that what he is to you?”
“Of course,” he quips sarcastically. “He’s hardly playing the fatherly role toward me, and let’s face it, I’m never going to amount to anything in his eyes.” He looks at me, and I watch something dance around in his eyes that I remember possessing once before in my life – an essence of happiness. “It’s why I still see Ryan. My little piece of normalcy.”
I laugh, thinking about what I’ve learned about my brother tonight.
“What?” he asks, clearly thinking I’m mocking him.
“It’s nothing,” I say, still chuckling at this little spin on our reality. “I always thought I had to look after you, but you’ve pretty much done that for me tonight. Given me total clarity.”
“I have you to thank for that, Lia,” he comments, leaning in toward me. “You’ve protected me from a lot. You’ve kept me alive and safe in this hell and proven you would do anything to give me a full life. Sometimes you just need a reminder that we’re here to do the same for you, too.” He then sits back, parting our bodies. “Even Zane.”
I give him a pointed look, telling him silently that he’s not playing fair.
“Don’t hate,” he tells me, frowning. He stands up. “I just think that the real reason Zane is here isn’t to become one of us, but more to get you out.”
“You, baby brother, are a dreamer.”
“Someone’s got to be,” he says and starts to leave the room. “You used to be, too.”
With that, he’s gone. I fall back on my bed and wonder if he’s right – am I that out of touch with my old self that I’ve forgotten what it is to dream? Before I left for Italy, I thought the world was my oyster and I could cut loose and run. I walked around with my heart on my sleeve just at having Zane back in my life. It was because of the heaven he wrapped me in that I saw a future, a hope, some semblance of a new life. When he tore it away, he tore more of me than I could ever fathom.
When life settles down, I might give in to that feeling again. But for now, with the minefield we live in, I would rather wait for the dust to settle so I can set my gaze on what I truly want.
I’ll wait for the calm before I dare to dream.
CHAPTER TWELVE
I watch from the doorway, my disgust magnifying.
Giovanni is hunched over himself, a bill rolled up, making it easier for him to snort the blurred line of cocaine. The greedy fucker snorts one line and immediately takes a second before standing up, sniffing harder while he wipes his nose. He turns to see me watching with utmost revulsion at his newest stint, and he just leers at me, grinning like a fool.
“Thought you gave that up?” I ask him, my arms folding over my chest.
“There’s nothing better than getting through this fucked-up life than a little bit of coke, sis,” he quips, chortling as he stumbles to me.
I take in the goofy grin he’s gotten, the drugs clearly loosening him up, and I watch as his pupils dilate. I’m sickened that he’s stupid enough to think snorting a fucking drug will make this life a better one. When the high ends, he’ll be back where he was – unneeded, almost forgotten, and still a sociopath.
“You should do some. It wouldn’t make you not so fucking uptight,” Giovanni comments, tossing his head over to the gang who are snorting away their evening.
“I don’t need drugs to enjoy my life,” I remark, snarling my words hatefully at him.
He laughs hard at my comment. “Amelia, you’re not fucking enjoying this life. I can see it every day. You hate it as much as you hate Papà and me. But not as much as you hate Zane being here.”
“Leave him out of this,” I say, and turn to leave. I am not about to listen to some riot act that Giovanni Abbiati thinks needs to be heard.
“No,” Giovanni snaps, grabbing onto me, “that man is ruining everything. Papà finally had you back after hearing just how ruthless you had become, but you’re still just a woman in love, Amelia. Zane could mutilate you and you’d still love him.”
“You know nothing.”
I decide to make my leave after that lie. Talking with the devil’s advocate will only ever land me in more bother than I’m already creating for myself. Giovanni can see right through me, I know he can, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to stand around and find out just how much he can.
I drift around the party – the one to celebrate the Dio Lavoro – and find myself overlooked for once. No one stares at me with fear, nor do they make way for me. No more am I cowered to or treated like I’m above them, and I love the sensation it fills me with. My freedom is just on the cusp of happening, and it’s proven in the way that people now treat me. I’m the fallen angel, and I have to admit, I fucking love it.
I come to the main room and find my father surrounded by adoring fans, Zane stood beside Enzo and Carlo with Manuel hiding in the background. My father looks happy as he stands adored and honored. When his gaze settles upon mine, I know I have to react. Dutifully, I take the adequate steps forward to stand among my father and brothers.
“Ah, bambina, we were just wondering where you were,” my father says, gathering enough concern in his voice to make it sound convincing. “Patrick here was just praising your abilities on the Amalfi Coast.”
The pit in my stomach opens up, and I feel nauseous. I don’t want to be reminded of the monster I became just to save my own skin. I even became a horror show to push Zane away. I don’t want an award for it. As I struggle to keep eye contact, my eyes drop and I feel my throat begin to close up.
I hear a cough and I look up to find Zane looking at me. While I feel the cracks beginning to splinter across my entire facade, he stands stoic, his eyes dead set on me. He doesn’t waver from his stare; instead, he strengthens it, narrowing his gaze and reminding me to be strong.
“It was nothing,” I humbly respond. “My uncle is not a force you’re to reckon with. If men need a teacher in this world, he is the devil to give it. He really helped me understand what I wanted in my life after I hit a few bumps.” I grin wickedly, knowing not many will know the ulterior meaning behind my words. “I’m here to leave a lasting impression and finally get a firm setting in life.”
“And how do you propose you’ll do that?” Patrick asks.
For a man I barely know, he’s awfully curious about my business.
“An Abbiati never tells,” I tell him, winking playfully.
Of course, I have no plans for my future – I’m winging it! But I’m a firm believer that if you make it sound convincing then people will believe anything you tell you. Patrick is one who seems to take that line of shit I just delivered.
“Not even a little hint of what’s to come in the future?” he asks, pressing me.
“Okay,” I sigh, dropping all of my walls and allowing my guard to slip. I play nice and innocent as my lips curl up. “It’s going to be wonderful.”
And that’s the bottom line right now – I don’t know what’s to come of my life, but I know one day I’ll look back and see this all as worth it. This amount of bullshit has to produce some beauty. It just has to.
“She’s a tough one to break in, my daughter,” my father quips, crooning proudly. “She’s a law unto herself and she’ll never let you in on what’s going to come next. She’s a powerful enigma. One even I cannot hold back. It makes me feel weaker than it should.”
As I watch Patrick laugh at my father’s quick wit, I notice a shape form through the material of Patrick’s jacket. So much so, I find myself staring. My gut instinct kicks in and tells me something’s not quite right here – between the ambiguity of who the hell Patrick is, the relentless questioning, and now the mystery box in his inside pocket, my instincts are on red alert.
“What about Zane?” he asks, pressing one of my buttons hard as he looks over at the man in question. “What do you think of what he’s doing?”
“He’s an idiot, but that’s a general consensus we’ve drawn together. He knows how I feel about his idiocy of being here.”
<
br /> I take a step forward; I’ve had this man marked since I was introduced to him, but the more we have spoken, the more I am peeved at his audacity. My father seems blinded by the glorious attention applied to him tonight to not have realized he’s had a mole in his midst. I might loathe my father with such a ferocious intent, but I will not allow my family to be ridiculed and fooled. You fool one Abbiati, you fool them all.
I put my eyes on Zane, and I can tell he knows I’m up to something. This isn’t about to be a move to make him jealous, far from it. This is to protect whatever tatters my family name is torn into. I roll my shoulders a little, turning my sole attention back to the dubious stranger.
“Now, Patrick,” I begin to say as I put my hands on the lapels of his jacket, curling my fingers around the edges. I pull him closer to me, my lips millimeters away from touching his ear. “If you’re going to be a mole and infiltrate this world, be better at it.”
All the time I spoke, I was slipping my hand into his jacket, preparing to reach into his inside pocket. Now I take my chance and I immediately feel a hard piece of technology. It’s too bulky for a cell phone and having seen the imprint of it earlier, I knew he was recording the entire evening.
“Didn’t think this through, did you?” I say holding up the incriminating piece of technology. The voice recorder has been rolling all the time. I take the moment to rewind the tape only to replay my last comment on Zane’s idiocy.
“It’s not what you think,” Patrick tries to find an explanation.
“What is it, then?” my father bellows, his face reddening with anger and humiliation.
“You think you’re going to make a story out of this evening,” I start and just end up laughing. I drop the recorder on the floor and slam my foot onto it. The plastic cracks and some parts give way. “You fucking idiota!”
My comment is met with Giovanni’s actions, who swoops in from the sidelines. He’s clearly just walked in at the most apt moment possible. He steps forward, taking a parlayzed Patrick from the room. Everyone stops and stares as the man goes kicking and screaming, even more so as a few men follow Giovanni’s steps ready to hurt a man trying to outwit a powerful man like my father.
“What is tonight without a little show from the Dio Lavoro?” he asks the crowd, as the silence becomes all too deafening. My father turns to me, pride filling his expression as he looks at me. I haven’t seen this look of pure pride in a while and I find it a little overwhelming. “Maybe you haven’t lost your touch at being an asset to this family, bambina,” he praises, his hands coming to my arms to pull me close so he can kiss my forehead. “You are still worthy of a spot in the Dio Lavoro.”
“Great,” I mutter, applying a fake smile.
“Now, go and enjoy the party,” my father instigates, and I take my leave.
I walk around the groups until I settle beside Carlo as he talks to men who seem more than friendly with him. From what I’ve heard among the conversation, they’re a lot like Carlo – the good guys hiding among the bad ones. It’s alarming how many people in this world aren’t really all in, how many of them have morals, how many of us wish for a get out clause.
“You look stunning in this dress.” Zane speaks from behind me. His thick, baritone voice travels over my shoulders, capturing me silent. I can feel just how close he is to me. My body responds to him, the butterflies spark, my heart skips a beat, and my hands become clammy.
“Go and dance,” Carlo tells me with a nudge, even before I’ve had time to react myself.
I turn and see that Zane is here for that purpose as he puts a hand out for me. He pulls me among the few people actually dancing in the ballroom and I reminisce as I remember my birthday when we danced among the trees.
I live among the music and calm for a moment.
“What’s on that mind of yours, sweetheart?” Zane asks, gently pulling back to the party.
“Too much,” I reply, my tone feather light.
“Tell me,” he coerces me, his hands moving again as if to clench me closer, make me feel like this is an entirely safe place in a chaotic environment.
I sigh. “Manuel told me to stop letting my happily ever after slip away when he’s right in front of me,” I tell him as his hands slide down my waist, poising themselves steady on my hips. Zane offers nothing but silence, so I continue. “I feel like I’m ready for love,” I comment, remaining steady in the slow rhythm. “Slowly, mind you. I can’t rush this again. I’m too weak to survive if this crashes and burns, Zane. I want a life with you. I took it on a time limit once before, and I’d do it all again. I just can’t rush this. I can’t go in all guns blazing for you or me to ruin it.”
“I can do slowly,” Zane muses, nodding his head as he tries to quell the smile. “Just say it again.”
I feel coyness tug at the corners of my lips as they beg to smile. “I feel like I’m ready for your love.”
“God, that sounds amazing,” he breathes, pulling me even closer. I could feel how heartfelt his words are. It’s almost as if he’s been waiting for me to make this move. After my bi-polar moves, Lorenzo, my father, and Zane’s decision to be here, it’s as if this is what he’s been waiting for. "Ti amerò per sempre," he whispers to me, his Italian like a sweet melody filling my ears as he promises a forever love. I’ve seen and heard a lot that has shocked me since coming home, but every time Zane speaks in Italian, my heart begins to swell overwhelmingly. “You just need to survive this time in your life.”
I ponder the thought for a moment, and he’s right, but I also know that strength is not something that can remain intact forever.
“Every time I think I am surviving, something happens,” I say, remembering how he came back into my life, how he left it again, and how I wound up forcing myself to believe that I’m a cold bitch. I look up into Zane’s eyes, making him focus on me as I decide to continue. “This night is wearing me down as it is. I don’t want the praise for what I’ve done. I want to forget, but no one is ever going to let me. Zane,” I breathe, stilling us for a moment, suspending this moment, “do you really want to be like me? I’m twisted and haunted. Do you really want that?”
“If it means I have you, then yes,” he replies, no qualm to his voice. “I know how you feel, you’ve repeated it enough, but know that I am not going anywhere unless it’s with you by my side.”
“Maverick!”
Zane’s name is the catalyst to breaking the most honest, intimate, and calm moment Zane and I have had in months. My father clearly means business as when I look, he looks peeved that Zane and I were so close even if for a limited time. I take the moment as a blessing. I don’t want a moment like this to be on public display. I don’t want people to see what Zane really makes of a mob princess.
“I guess you’re wanted,” I say, loosening my own grip on Zane.
“We’ll continue this later,” he tells me, and he kisses my forehead before dropping away and following the sound of my father’s voice.
I decide to wander around the party, and see what’s going on in the various rooms. I walk around until I find a quieter room and find the air to be calmer here. Jonny – one of the oldest mafia Dons in the business – sits with everyone around him, waiting for whatever tale he’s about to spin. His frailty shows how much older he is to my father, but he’s a man who hung up his wayward ways long before he got too deep. Jonny used to be ruthless, killed his own brother and wife after he caught them having an affair. However, it didn’t take him long to drift into the shadows and be a counsellor of sorts for other mobsters.
“It all started with Ruby Collini,” Jonny begins to tell them all. “She was Antonio Collini’s wife and adored by everyone. Everyone, that is, but Antonio. Their story started with love but soon ended with misery. Collini was a greedy man, and he used Ruby as a trophy. She soon became imprisoned by his love and made to make women envious and men stare. She was one of the most powerful tools he had at his disposal and he used her every single day they were married
.”
“What happened?” one of the men asks, obviously unaware of this infamous story.
“It ended in misery. Her actions were that of a desperate woman, but it was one that saw her free.” Jonny takes a swig of his drink, garnering anticipation from all those listening before he finishes the story. “Ruby Collini was the first Femme Fatale in our midst. She was able to seduce men with one look, rile them up and tear them down just by reminding them who she was already owned by. Stefano Abbiati decided to make sure that if there were to be any more like her, it would be within his descendants and no one else’s. Sadly, he produced only boys, but his son Salvatore had the first girl in decades.”
“Amelia Abbiati is hardly the epitome of Femme Fatale,” one unknown man quips, chuckling as he mocks me.
I take my moment to bite back, unable to allow someone to cuss me when they have no idea who I am and what I’m clearly capable of.
“I could have you on your knees within seconds if I wanted,” I reply to his comment. I force him to realize that I’m just a few mere feet behind him. The look he turns to me with is a look that is priceless, and I laugh at him. “I’ve killed possibly more men that you’ve had women in your bed. And I am not above it to make you an addition to my list.”
“No one’s scared of you anymore, Amelia,” he challenges me, stepping toward me.
I merely smirk. “That will be your biggest downfall.”
“Whatever. You’re not what everyone used to think you were. Weak, insubordinate, waste of space in a family as legendary as the Dio Lavoro,” he continues to speak, spewing hate fire at me. “We all know even your father doesn’t care much for you anymore. Not after every disgrace you’ve bought to the family. You should be ashamed to be part of the Dio Lavoro when you’re not built for it. Those least deserving always have everything at their feet.”
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