Becoming the Street Boss: A Zanetti Famiglia Novel

by Faiman, Hayley

  Rosana laughs softly. “Like he adores you, Pippa. He does, too. He looked at you like he couldn’t believe you were his. I know your situation isn’t normal, but I want that.”

  I snort. “No, you don’t.”

  She hums. “Maybe not the exact way it happened with you. But still, a guy who looks at me like he can’t believe I’m his. I want that.”

  Reaching out, I touch her nose. “I hope you get whatever you want in life, Sana. Whatever you want.”

  We don’t say anything else. I don’t sleep, my mind spins with thoughts of my wedding day, of the way Gavino, Arlo, and Luca all looked at their wives. The way Nicola talked about Benicio. They adored them and I never imagined that Massimo could think and talk about me that way.

  Does he… adore me?

  Could he… love me?

  I know that I love him. It was easy to fall in just days for the man. He’s broken, but he’s not demolished… at least he wasn’t. But in five years, will he be savable or will he be a complete stranger?

  MASSIMO

  Renzo appears in front of me. He looks the same bearded, shaggy fucker as he always has. It’s only been four months, but fuck, it feels like it’s been a lifetime. I don’t know how I’m going to last another four and a half years in this fucker.

  “How is she?” I ask. I feel like a junky looking for a fix.

  Renzo’s teeth appear as his lips turn up in a smile. “She’s good.” He chuckles. “Crazy, a little clingy, and not a fucking normal wife, but she’s good.”

  I chuckle too, looking down at the table and shaking my head a couple of times before I lift my gaze back up to meet his.

  “You’re not watching her anymore?”

  “Determined there was no danger to her. Roman hasn’t been found, but he was in with the feds, he’s probably in their protection. We’ll find him and deal with him when it’s time.”

  “Good.”

  Renzo leans back, his gaze searching mine. “She’s not alone though.”

  I can feel my face heat as red fills my vision. The thought. Just the fucking thought of another man in my house, in my bed. If I wasn’t stuck in here, I’d fucking kill them both. Leaning forward, I growl toward him.

  “Tell. Me. Everything,” I demand.

  Renzo laughs. “Cugino,” he says on a wheeze. “Her sister, Rosana, moved in. She’s taking the aunt to court for custody. Jesus Christ, but you’re easy to rile up.”

  “Fuck you,” I snap. He’s still laughing as he shakes his head. “You really want to make me feel like that when I’m up in here?” I ask.

  Renzo shakes his head. “It’s good for you, Mass. This place is a fucking gray and beige hellhole. If you don’t add a bit of yourself here, you’ll get lost in the sea of depression.”

  “It is depressing as fuck,” I grunt.

  Renzo dips his chin. “Then maybe you need to allow your wife to come and visit you a few times, yeah? Add that splash of color that you clearly need in this place.”

  “She comes here and what? We chat about our day? I tell her who fucked who, who got raped, who was shanked?”

  Renzo shakes his head. “Maybe you fall in love with her. See the woman that she is beneath her rockin’ body? Maybe you help her with this shit with her aunt and sister? That cunt is trying to fuck with her and Salvatore is doing what he can, but he can’t be the emotional support that she needs, yeah?”

  Standing, I take a step to the side, then one step back. “I’ll think about it,” I mutter before I turn my back to him.

  “Think quickly. She’s got a few men who heard you were looking to get a divorce, they’ve already approached Gavino for a chance to keep her.”

  Spinning around, I narrow my eyes at him. “You’ve got to be fucking with me. Vino would tell me,” I snap.

  Renzo shakes his head slowly from side to side. “Wish that I were, cugino. Vino denied their requests, but they asked and they’ve made it very clear that they want a shot should you decide to go through with your original plans.”

  “They’ve made contact?” I ask.

  Renzo jerks his chin. “Not yet. They’re frothing and they’re noticing that she’s not visiting you.”

  Lifting my hand, I run my shaky fingers through my hair. “Thanks.”

  Without another word, I walk away from him. I have some phone calls to make. I’m pissed as fuck. I talked to Gavino just a couple of days ago, never did he mention that men had asked about Pippa.

  In the same thought, I talked to Salvatore yesterday and he never once told me that Pippa was going head to head with that bitch of an aunt in court over Rosana, or that Rosana was living in my house.

  Looks like my men, the ones who are supposed to be at and have my back, haven’t been telling me fucking shit. They have some explaining to do, and they better do it quickly. I’m not putting up with this shit from them.

  Sitting down on the edge of my bed, I close my eyes and think about my wife. I have a picture, I can look at it if I need to, but I don’t. I can see her clearly. Her image hasn’t faded at all in my mind. She’s just as clear today as she was four months ago, and again just as clear as she was three years before that.

  Letting out a sigh, I lie back on my bed. I have to find out what the hell is going on and I have to decide if I want to keep her. Pressing the heels of my palms into my eyes, I know that I can’t divorce her. I was stupid to think that I could.

  She’s mine.

  I wanted her, I had the opportunity and I took her when she was offered to me. I’m not going to just give her up, not that easily. I might be in prison, but she’s still bound to me, even if she’s pissed at me—even if she hates me and I have no fucking doubt by the end of this she will indeed hate me.

  * * *

  ONE WEEK LATER

  "You wanna tell me what the fuck Renzo was talkin’ about when he walked in here last week?” I bark into the phone.

  Gavino doesn’t say anything right away. My teeth grind together as I clench my jaw and wait for him to tell me what is going on. I feel helpless, useless, it’s fucking bullshit.

  “Renzo told me you’d be calling,” he drawls.

  “I’m calling, now tell me.”

  There’s a moment of silence and then he finally speaks. “Two men have asked. I’ve told them that the rumors were just that, you’d never divorce your bride.”

  I grunt.

  “You don’t plan on leaving her, do you?”

  “I don’t,” I snap. “Pippa is mine. Nobody else’s.”

  “Good. I was hoping you’d say that. This is going to fuck with your head. There is no way around that, but you need to stay strong, not just for you, but for Pippa too. I know that you have it in you, Massimo. You will be okay, so will she.”

  Leaning back against the wall, I bang the back of my head a couple of times. “It doesn’t feel like it, Vino.”

  “I know it doesn’t, but trust me, it will be okay. You will be okay. Your entire famiglia is waiting for you, we love you and we will be here for you no matter how long it takes. We will take care of Pippa and protect her.”

  “You got a man on her still?”

  There’s a moment of silence, too long of a moment. “There is no reason to have one on her. Roman is in hiding, he’s no threat to her. We’re at a time of peace right now. Everything is nice and calm. There’s no reason to be overcautious.”

  “Luciana have a guard? Lenora?”

  “They are not Pippa. Their status and who they are married to makes them vulnerable. Chloe doesn’t have a guard, Pippa doesn’t need one either. If there is a threat, that will change.”

  “Bullshit,” I hiss. “My mother wasn’t even married to my father and she was gunned down in the street. I want my wife to have a guard.”

  “That was over twenty years ago, Mass. This is not the same famiglia and you know that.”

  Growling, I feel my blood heating, boiling, just beneath the surface. This motherfucker.

  “Fine. Anything h
appens to her, it’s on your head.”

  “I’ll accept that,” Vino says, his voice too fucking calm.

  “Anything else,” I snap.

  There’s a moment of silence. Gavino is thinking, probably pissed at my harsh tone. I don’t care, he can fuck himself. I’m the one that’s pissed off.

  “You’ll see your wife next week.”

  “I will?” I ask.

  He hums. “You will.”

  I end the call, knowing that he has a job for me, one that will include ending someone. I’ll do it, proudly because my boss asked me to. I’ll do it and he’ll put a fucking guard on my wife, threat or not.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  PIPPA

  Standing at the kitchen stove, I giggle at something Rosana says about a boy at school, one that she thinks is an ass, but I think he clearly has a gigantic crush on her. The house phone rings and my entire body tenses.

  The only time this phone has rung were the two times that Massimo called me from prison. “Answer it,” Rosana urges. “I’ll do the meat.”

  It’s only tacos, so she couldn’t mess it up if she tried. I couldn’t either, which is why I’m making them tonight. Reaching for the phone, I inhale a deep breath and pick it up, pressing it to my ear.

  The recorded message asks me if I’d like to accept the call and I do, far too eagerly. “Pippa?” he asks.

  Massimo’s voice washes over me and I let out a sigh at the sound. It’s been months since I heard it. He sounds rougher, hoarser than he did the last time we spoke. Oddly, he also sounds a bit more vulnerable, too.

  “Massimo,” I breathe.

  “It’s good to hear your voice,” he says.

  Clearing my throat, I try to come up with something to tell him. There’s so much and yet, I don’t think that he would find any of it remotely interesting.

  “You too. Are you okay?”

  He chuckles softly, but I know it’s not because he finds me humorous. “I’ll be okay, dolcezza.”

  “You’re calling…” I point out, needlessly.

  He hums then lets out a small snort. “I am. Do you think you can come see me on Saturday?”

  “Of course,” I say without hesitation.

  “Things are good with your money, you’re getting everything you need?”

  Smiling, I look down at my feet, turning my back to Rosana, who is listening intently, but trying not to.

  “It’s too much every month, I couldn’t spend it all even if I tried.”

  He chuckles. “So, keep it for yourself, for whatever comes your way.”

  “Rosana is living here now. I’m going to try to get custody of her. My aunt is fighting me pretty hard though,” I blurt out on a ramble.

  “I know. We’ll talk about that when you come here, yeah?”

  “Okay.”

  “Pippa?”

  “Yeah?”

  There’s a moment of silence and I wait for him to say whatever it is he has to say. “Miss you.”

  My breath hitches, but I doubt he hears it. He’s already hung up the phone. Tears fill my eyes and I can’t just wipe or shrug them away. They are right there. Hanging the phone up on the receiver, I let my breath out in a whoosh.

  “Are you okay?”

  Turning my head to look over my shoulder I give her a sad watery smile. “He told me that he misses me, that he wants me to visit on Saturday.”

  “That’s promising,” she murmurs.

  Nodding my head once, I completely turn around and take over finishing dinner. “It is.”

  “You don’t sound convinced.”

  I let out a bark of laughter. “I can never be sure what Massimo will really want from me. He says things, then turns around and does something different. All I can do is wait here for him to allow me to see him. So far, in almost the six months he’s been locked away, I’d seen him once.”

  Rosana doesn’t say anything. I finish making dinner in silence, our good moods both vanishing. After we eat, she heads up to her room and me to my own. Drawing a hot bath, I sink into the water and think about this man, my husband.

  How can I still have any tender feelings for him at all? How can I want to impress him? Why? Am I that desperate?

  I know the answers, but I avoid even thinking them. I want to pretend that this is all a dream or that even if it isn’t, the outcome is going to be so remarkably beautiful that it will be worth every second of pain that I’ve experienced so far.

  One week later, I find myself sitting at that same little table, waiting for my husband to grace me with his presence. Today, I decided to wear my hair down and make my face up pretty and subtle.

  I’m wearing a navy blue wrap dress that shows a little more cleavage than I’m used to, but not too much that they wouldn’t allow me inside.

  On my feet, I’m wearing shimmering gold high heels. I feel beautiful, even if it’s just to talk with Massimo for an hour, I still want to feel attractive, not just for him but for myself too.

  My breathing goes from calm and collected, to rough quick pants when I finally see him. He dips his head toward a guard and I watch his lips move as he speaks to him. The guard’s eyes shift over to me and I watch as his lips curve up into a small smile before he nods his head once.

  Massimo turns to face me and my heart races with each step closer he takes toward me. I search his features to see if he’s as excited to see me as I am him, but his face is completely impassive.

  “Pippa,” he murmurs as he sits in front of me.

  He reaches out his hand and I slip my palm in his. “I want to kiss you, to taste all of you, but I can’t here,” he murmurs.

  “Okay,” I whisper.

  “You look good.”

  “Thank you,” I say, the conversation feeling forced and stunted.

  We’re silent for a moment, our eyes just watching one another’s. His lips twitch into a smirk as his gaze searches my own. He tilts his head to the side, then shakes it once before he speaks.

  “Everything with your aunt will be taken care of, I don’t want you to worry about that, yeah?”

  “Does that mean what I think it does?”

  His smirk turns into a beautiful, blinding white smile. “No clue what you’re talking about. Just know it’s handled.”

  “Massimo,” I warn.

  “You’re taking good care of Rosana?”

  Licking my lips, I can’t help but match his smile with one of my own. “I am. She’s able to be just a regular teenager. I’m so proud of her. All straight A’s. She’s going to make something of herself.”

  “Smart, just like her sister,” he says, squeezing my fingers.

  “I’m not,” I mutter, looking down at our clasped hands.

  Massimo lets out a grunt and I lift my gaze to meet his. “You are, Pippa.”

  “Are you sure about that?” I ask, arching a brow.

  He shakes his head once. “I am. Book smart and street smart are two totally different types of intelligence, and both you and Rosana are equally smart. You’re more street smart and she’s more book smart.

  “You’re loyal and kind, your heart far too welcoming. Rosana is free-spirited and naïve. All of that is okay. I could never be with a woman like Rosana, it would be far too hard to protect her delicate nature from my world.”

  “But someone like me is easy to tear apart? Easy to treat like shit and walk away?” I hiss.

  Massimo squeezes my hand tighter when I try to take my fingers from his grip. “Do not put words in my mouth, dolcezza,” he growls. “You are strong, you are aware of this world and you are someone who can stand up and survive where a woman like her would assuredly crumble, no?”

  “Yes,” I grind out.

  He tugs my hand closer to his, my body forced to lean over the table a bit more. His eyes focus on mine and my heart hammers against my chest at the sight of him.

  I want him to kiss me, to touch every part of my body, to remind me who owns me. I want it more than I want anything else righ
t now, even though I’m angry with him.

  “Made for me, Pippa. And when I get out, you will be right there, stronger than ever waiting for me.”

  “You know that I will,” I say as my anger ebbs from my body. “And when you’re out, we’ll start our family and we will be happier than ever.”

  “Telling yourself that or me?” he asks.

  Lifting my eyes to his, I press my lips together before I turn them up into a small smile. “Both of us.”

  The guards call out a warning that our time here is about to end. Standing, Massimo releases my hand. I rise to my feet as well, stepping away from the chair and positioning myself directly in front of him.

  Massimo takes my hands in his, dipping his chin, he touches his lips to mine in a chaste kiss, but still sends a thrill throughout my entire body. He rests his forehead against mine, his eyes closed as he just breathes.

  “Come see me again next month?” he asks.

  My heart thumps against my chest, my lips turn up into a bright smile. I can’t believe he wants me to come back. I feel like a giddy schoolgirl.

  “I’ll be here,” I eagerly reply.

  “I’ll call you. Avoiding you because I feel like a failure as a man and a husband does nothing for us but cause pain.”

  My thumping heart cracks from his words. “You could never be a failure, not to me, Massimo.”

  “I hope you still feel that way in five, ten, twenty years, dolcezza.”

  Without another word, he takes a step back from me, the guards calling the inmates back in. I watch his retreating form as he makes his way into the lineup.

  Each man gets searched, but I can’t watch Massimo go through that, he wouldn’t want me to. Instead, I turn away and I make my way out of the prison.

  “Beautiful young woman like you, throwing your life away for some deadbeat gangster? Sad really,” a voice calls out as soon as I step away from the prison doors and into the sunshine.

  Turning to look at the man behind the voice, I’m not surprised to see the cocky look he’s wearing on his face. Arching a brow, I refuse to speak to him. He wants some kind of reaction from me, but I have zero desire to give him one.