The home won’t be quiet for much longer. I won’t be able to walk around naked or fuck my fiancée loudly, but I’m okay with that, because I know that she needs her people here with her. I just hope that none of it backfires. I’m not sure I could let them leave here alive if it did.
“You look sexy as hell cooking in our kitchen,” I murmur.
Her spine straightens and she turns her head to look over her shoulder at me. I watch as a slow smile curves on her lips.
“I doubt that,” she purrs in that sexy accented voice of hers.
I don’t make a move toward her, even when it’s all I want to do. Instead, I watch her for a moment. She continues to smile, though doesn’t come toward me either. Eventually, she turns back to her chopping and I continue to watch her, though she doesn’t move as freely as she did when she didn’t realize I was watching her.
“What’s for lunch then?” I ask.
She hums, continuing to chop at the cutting board. “Salads.”
“Salads?” I ask, sounding as skeptical as I feel.
There’s a moment of silence, then she turns her head and looks back at me again. “You’ll like it,” she says with a grin. “It’s a man salad.”
“A man salad?” I ask. “I’m not sure there’s any such thing.”
“Just go and sit,” she says with a chuckle.
I push off of the wall and head toward the table. Sinking down, I look out at the city ahead of us and I can’t help but think of what is going to happen in just a few days. Revenge will be had, marriage will happen, and hopefully she’ll be pregnant all within the next few days.
I’m ready for it to happen, for my future to begin.
“Do you think I should try to call my father about the wedding?” Siobahn asks as she sets two bowls down in front of us.
I don’t look down at the, man salad. Keeping my gaze focused on her, I wonder if I should tell the truth, then decide against it. Instead, I press my lips together and tilt my head to the side. I could tell her a million things, a million lies, the truth, but I decide to give her a mix of both.
“I don’t,” I murmur. “I told him he wasn’t welcome. That I didn’t want to see or hear from him again, and neither did you. After what he did to you…” I let the words trail off and she nods her head a couple of times.
“I just can’t help but think about Emilyn and how he will never be at either of our weddings, that I was his last and only shot.”
My stomach twists. Emilyn. I don’t know how I could have almost forgotten, but I had. Thinking about her, about what is going to happen when Siobahn finds out that she’s one of our girls, and that I fucked her, too. It’s going to kill this false ideal I have about the future.
All of my talk of trust.
All of my talk of falling in love with one another.
All of it is bullshit.
Because she will never trust me after this, she will never fall in love with me. None of it will happen. She will be fucking gone. I open my mouth to tell her about Emilyn, to just spill it all right now, but then snap my lips as soon as I see her innocent face.
Fuck.
“Your friends will be there, all of the girls and their husbands will be there. I’ll be there,” I say.
She shrugs a shoulder. “It’s not the same. I guess, I always imagined something different, but that was the dream of a child. I haven’t thought about my wedding since Emilyn was taken.”
“I know, cuoricino. It’ll be a good day,” I mutter. “A good one.”
She nods her head, jerking her chin forward toward the salad. Dipping my chin, I look at the bowl and grin at the sight. It’s still a salad, but she’s put a whole pile of toppings on it. It does look like a heap of food and exactly what I would describe as a man salad.
“This is a man salad,” I point out.
She hums. “It is,” she breathes. “Now eat.”
I eat and I’m sure it’s supposed to taste delicious, because that’s exactly the way it looks, except it’s not. Instead, it’s bitter and I know without a doubt that it’s because I’m thinking about her father and Emilyn and my betrayal.
There’s a knock on the door and my stomach flips. It shouldn’t, but it does just the same. Standing, I hold up my hand to keep her seated. Siobahn nods her head once as I walk toward the door.
I’m not expecting any guests, so I’m unsure who has decided to show up. It very well could be a threat of some kind.
Looking through the peephole, I hiss at the woman standing on the other side. Why now? Siobahn isn’t my wife yet. Her being here means that she may never show up to the wedding itself.
Fuck.
Yanking the door open, I frown as I growl at the woman across from me. “You told me two weeks,” I bark.
She nods her head once. “I know. Mia gave me your address. I decided I couldn’t wait.”
“You couldn’t have waited until after the wedding?”
Emilyn shakes her head. “I want to be there. I want to see her get married.”
“Even if it’s to me?”
She laughs softly. “I know, in your core, you are a good man, Renzo.”
“Do you?”
She takes a step toward me, placing her hand at the center of my chest. “I do. I’ve seen truly bad men, Renzo. You are not one of them, none of your men are.”
“You want to see her, now?” I ask, again.
Emilyn pushes me slightly. “It’s time, Renzo. I should have gone to her the second I knew she was here.”
“Renzo, who’s here?” Siobahn’s voice calls out.
Standing to the side, I lift my eyes to meet Siobahn’s. I don’t have to say anything. No introductions are made. None. They aren’t needed. They both know exactly who the other is. A bond that can never be broken.
Sisters.
“Emilyn?” Siobahn whimpers.
Chapter Forty
SIOBAHN
My sister stands across from me. She’s gorgeous. Her blonde hair cut in a short bob, her lips painted bright red, and she’s wearing designer from head to toe. My sister looks exactly like the rest of the mafia wives from the outside. Inside, I wonder if she is the same ten-year-old that I remember, or is she forever changed?
“How?” I breathe when neither of them says a word.
They stay silent. Emilyn just watches me and something crosses her face, a sadness that I’ve never seen before, or maybe I have. Maybe I have the same sadness in my own eyes. My breath is stolen from me and I can’t say anything else, not even if I knew what to say. It wouldn’t matter, I can’t speak.
“You look the same, Siobahn,” Emilyn says, finally speaking.
I smirk, tears filling my eyes as my lips tremble. “I don’t. I’m older, fatter,” I say, pointing to my stomach.
Renzo makes a noise from behind Emilyn at my observation about my weight, but otherwise doesn’t say anything. I expect him to speak, but he doesn’t. He’s allowing us to lead this, whatever it is, and I’m in too much shock to ask any real questions.
She laughs softly, taking another step toward me, then another. My entire body is frozen in its spot as she wraps her arms around me in a hug. As soon as she touches me, I jerk and my shoulders start to shake as I begin to sob.
Lifting my arms, I wrap them around her and pull her close to me. “I’m wrinkling you,” I cry out as I tremble in her arms.
“That’s okay,” she whispers. “Let’s go sit down.”
I’m still shaking as she guides me over to the sofa. I have a million questions, but I can’t seem to focus enough to ask any of them, not a single one. Emilyn reaches for my hands and takes them in hers as soon as we’re both seated.
She turns her head to look behind her. “Come over, Renzo. Join us.”
“You know one another?” I ask.
There is a moment of silence as Renzo walks over to the living room and I watch him sink down into the chair across from us. He doesn’t say anything, his eyes focused on mine and nowhere e
lse as he leans forward and places his elbows on his knees.
“We do, Siobahn,” Emilyn says, her voice soft and even.
“Someone is going to need to tell me what’s going on here,” I say with a shake in my voice. I feel very confused, extremely excited, and anxious, nervous, every emotion under the sun actually.
Renzo clears his throat, but it’s Emilyn who speaks first. “I was taken back then.”
I wait in silence, my worst fears, what I always knew to be true comes true with each word that she speaks. She tells me about her time with Orin Sr., not Jr., something that she made explicitly clear.
She doesn’t go into detail, but she tells me just enough that I understand the nightmares that she’s been through. I can imagine everything, and it causes my entire body to ache, every single nerve ending.
“Renzo? How do you fit into any of this?” I ask.
Emilyn’s fingers squeeze my hand and she shakes her head once. “They didn’t know. At first, we all thought that they did, but now it’s very clear in how the business is run that they didn’t. We’re given our freedom in a way that I didn’t think was possible. Renzo’s men are good to us, better than any of the others.”
“You were trafficked, here? To New York?” I whisper.
“I was.”
My eyes widen at her candor. I didn’t think she would just straight out answer me like that. My shoulders shake as silent tears fall from my eyes.
Trafficked.
Not just used and abused, but sent to a foreign country to be used and abused. It’s too much. All of it is too much and how my sister can sit here in her designer clothes with a smile on her red-painted lips, I don’t know.
“I just don’t understand,” I mutter. “How do you know Renzo? How does all of this go together?” I ask, feeling like I’m completely out of the loop.
“The famiglia has call girls, cuoricino. Emilyn is one of our girls. We had a trade agreement with Orin. Gavino didn’t know the girls coming from Ireland were coming against their will, he only thought they were untrained.”
“Your men. You. Are trafficking women for the purpose of prostitution?” I ask slowly.
He nods, “In a way. But not truly the definition of trafficking,” he attempts to explain.
I turn my gaze back to meet Emilyn’s. “That’s what you are, a prostitute?” I demand. She nods her head once, her eyes never leaving mine. “Why?” I whisper as tears stream down my face silently. “Why? Why? Why?”
Emilyn reaches for me, wrapping her arms around me before she tugs me toward her, hugging me tightly.
“Don’t cry for me, Siobahn. I am good now. My life is good.”
“Good?” I shout, pulling away from her. “Good?” I repeat.
Her eyes widen and they search mine. “Yes, good.”
“How?” I demand, standing to my feet. I start to pace, walking around in front of her. I can feel the concern from Renzo behind me, but I ignore him. “How?” I demand.
She smiles softly, but makes no move to stand. “I’m free, Siobahn. Yes, I’ve been traded to work for the Zanetti’s, but I can come and go as I please, I can turn down clients if I wish. I am free for the first time since I was taken, I am free.”
“That’s not freedom,” I snap. Turning my head, I look to Renzo. “How long have you known? The whole time?” I demand.
He shakes his head once. “No, just a few days,” he admits.
The fact is that he’s saying it, telling me the truth, his eyes looking as if he wants to say anything but that.
“You’ve known for days and you didn’t tell me?” I shout.
Emilyn finally stands, reaching out, she wraps her fingers around my forearm and squeezes gently. “I asked him not to. I wanted to wait a few weeks, but then I couldn’t stand you getting married without me there.”
Betrayal.
It stings.
It aches.
It consumes me.
EMILYN
She won’t believe me. I don’t blame her. How do I explain to someone who has never been through what I’ve been through so they understand how happy I am now? She will never, ever understand and I can’t even expect her to.
All I can do is show her that I’m fine. Tell her that my life is better than ever.
I can tell that Siobahn isn’t happy. I wish that she was, but I learned a long time ago that you can’t make anyone feel any certain way.
Siobahn spins around, her anger pouring out of her and focused on Renzo. He doesn’t say a word as she starts to cry and yell at him. I don’t even hear the words, there’s no sense in trying to reason with her, she’s too emotional.
Renzo stands, turning his back to her, and walks out of the room. Then she spins around to look at me. Her eyes rimmed with red and tears quietly continue to stream down her cheeks. I watch as she shakes her head a couple of times, inhaling deeply through her nose before she starts to speak again.
“I don’t understand. Not any of this. You’re a prostitute and you’re happy. Happy. How could you be happy? And my fiancé, he is part of all of this.”
My lips curve up into a grin. “Ten years ago, I couldn’t have even thought of a life like this, but after I was taken and abused. When the pain seemed to just be ongoing, never-ending, I prayed for just a moment of relief. I have that now.”
“You have relief? As a whore?”
I could be offended by her words, but I’m not. That’s exactly what I am—a whore. I was created this way and there is no way for me to be anything else. I’m okay with that. I’ve accepted it and there is nothing anyone could say that would make me feel guilty about it.
“I do, Siobahn. I don’t expect you or anyone else to understand.”
She takes a step back, stumbling. She looks surprised and I’m sure if the roles were reversed then I would feel the same way.
“It’s a lot to take in,” I murmur. “I don’t blame you for being confused or upset.”
“I just can’t see how any of this is okay. How?”
Smiling, I take a step toward her, wrapping my arms around her and pulling her against me, holding her tightly as she cries. She sobs again, her tears should make me feel sad, but they don’t. Emotions aren’t really a thing I understand anymore.
“I don’t know, Siobahn, but trust me when I tell you that it is.”
She doesn’t say anything immediately, her eyes flicking down to the floor before they lift back up to meet mine. Then her wet orbs find mine.
“I hate that you think it’s okay,” she whispers. “I thought that when I found you again, we’d hug and be happy and we’d live together just like you wanted.”
I laugh softly, cupping her cheeks with my hands. “Wouldn’t that have been nice? Except, I don’t think that Renzo is the kind of man who wants his sister-in-law living with him.”
She bristles at the mention of his name. I don’t know what to do to make her see that I’m okay, and that she doesn’t need to be so upset. I’m not sure if there is any way she will ever understand.
Using my thumb, I wipe the tears from beneath her eyes. I have my own tears threatening to spill over, but I swallow them down. I can’t cry in front of her, not like this. Instead, I force a smile and continue to wipe my big sister’s tears.
“You’ve been with him, haven’t you?”
I could tell her the truth. Renzo told me that I should, but I can’t do that, not to her. Not to Siobahn, not after seeing the way she looked at him. Whether she wants to admit it or not, she is in love with Renzo.
“I’ve been with a lot of men.”
“You have,” she whispers.
Shaking my head a couple of times, I give her a small smile. “Siobahn, don’t think about that. It doesn’t matter either way.”
“It does to me,” she mutters.
I snort, moving my hands from her face to her shoulders and giving her a shake. “It doesn’t. You’re just thinking of another way to be angry with him. Don’t be,” I say. “Just don�
�t be. He couldn’t tell you, I wouldn’t let him.”
“I guess I should be happy that he’s loyal to someone.”
“Siobahn,” I warn. “He’s loyal to the famiglia, then you. This was famiglia business and you know it.”
She presses her lips together, rolling them before she speaks. “I just don’t know how I feel about any of this,” she says on an exhale. “I just don’t know.”
Siobahn takes a step back, then turns and without a word walks away from me. I watch her make her way out to the balcony, not looking back at me. Maybe I should feel bad about telling her the truth about how I feel, it’s a hard thing I suppose. Your sister is a whore and likes it. Nobody wants to hear that.
In time, maybe she’ll be okay with it. For now, I’m going to give her space and eventually, when she wants to accept who I am, then I will be right here to be her sister again, at least the sister that I can be now.
Chapter Forty-One
RENZO
It doesn’t take long for her to find me. It’s not that I went far. I walked away from the sisters, knowing that they probably needed their privacy and also cowardly, not wishing to suffer Siobahn’s scrutiny or be the object of her immediate anger.
There is a knock on my office door and I look up to see Emilyn standing in the entrance. She gives me a sad smile and jerks her chin toward me.
“I’m leaving. I just wanted to let you know that she’s upset and outside on the balcony.”
With a grunt, I dip my chin in a nod. “I knew she would be.”
Emilyn hums. “She’s more upset that I’m not angry about my life and ready to stop working. That I’m not a victim any longer.”
“She will probably never understand, you’re okay with that?” I ask.
Emilyn nods her head and gives me a sad smile. “I am. The life that I had, nobody can understand it, not unless they have lived it themselves.”
Nodding my head, I can understand her. I’ve lived a life that normal people don’t understand either. Siobahn will never truly understand what famiglia means, and what I do for them. What I am required to do. She will never be okay with it, not ever.
Becoming the Hitman (Zanetti Famiglia Book 5) Page 27