Pippa never deserved me, never deserved an ounce of the treatment that I dealt out to her. But she stayed when she could have run. She also stayed faithful when it could have been a hell’ve a lot easier to find pleasure elsewhere.
Whoever did this to her will die a slow and painful death. Pippa is a true mafia wife. Strong and true, faithful and honorable. I will avenge her. And if she lives, I will do right by her.
I’ll make her the mother she wishes to be, I’ll try to be the husband she wants me to be. It’s a promise that I not only make to her, but to myself. I don’t know how I’m going to make up five years to her, but I’m damn sure going to try.
“Ferrucci,” a voice calls out from the other side of my bars.
Picking my face up from the palms of my hands, I turn my head to look over at the man who called out to me. It’s my friendly dirty guard.
Standing, I walk over to him, wondering what he’s going to say to me. He’s only come to my cell a handful of times over the years, so this is definitely big.
“She’s stable. Got a call a few minutes ago, wanted to let you know. Couldn’t have you worried all night, didn’t seem right,” he murmurs.
“Any idea who did it? Maybe our resident guard asshole?”
He shakes his head, his lips twitching as something cold slides through his gaze. “He has been taken care of, permanently. After that little stalking stunt, he’s no longer an issue at all whatsoever.”
“Personally?” I ask.
He dips his chin, his eyes finding mine. “Personally,” he confirms.
I knew that the asshole was dead, I wasn’t sure if one of our guys did it or if it really was him. I’m glad that it was this man, a move like that shows his allegiance to the famiglia. Nodding my head slowly, I shift my eyes to the side before I bring them back to him.
“Have you heard any rumblings about me in here?” I ask.
Another scenario could be that I pissed someone off in here. Men have been known to go after family members living on the outside. The guard shakes his head slowly, tilting his face up to the ceiling before his eyes find mine again.
“Maybe it’s not something new, Ferrucci. Maybe it’s your past catching up with you? I haven’t heard anything. Your men on the outside haven’t either, I asked. The guard here is gone. Think about who you could have wronged before you came in here, the answer is probably there.”
Without another word he turns and walks away from me. I watch him for a moment before I turn and walk over to my bed, sinking down on the mattress. I think about all of the people that I have angered in this life.
There are a lot.
My father, a man who still lives, but thankfully chooses not to grace me with his presence, and when Gavino took over for the famiglia he retired from the life. I’m sure it wasn’t completely by choice, but more so to save his own fucking neck after Vino got rid of Antonio Rossi, the man who was the Boss before him.
I don’t think my dad would do to me what happened to him, to the only woman that he actually gave a fuck about. But then again, wouldn’t that be some kind of fucked up poetic justice if he did?
I make a mental list of every man who is not only capable of shooting my innocent wife in cold blood on the sidewalk. The list is long. Too long. There is no way I’ll be able to narrow it down or figure it out from here. There is no way that I can wait for months to get out either.
I’m goddamn helpless.
I’m not fit to even have a wife. I can’t protect her, as much as I’ve tried. Ultimately, my hands are tied in here.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
PIPPA
Lucky.
I’ve heard that word more times in the past fifteen days than I can count.
Lucky.
Fuck, lucky.
They say that I’m lucky to be alive. I’m lucky that there will be no permanent damage, aside from scarring, and if I want to have that fixed with plastic surgery, it’s most definitely an option.
Staring at the ceiling from my hospital bed, I wonder exactly how this happened to me. Is this my punishment for essentially selling myself to my husband, to the highest bidder? Is this what happens when you are actually glad that your aunt is murdered?
Karma is a fucking bitch, and she’s found me. She didn’t hold back, not in the slightest. Now I’m laid up with three bullet holes in my body. Thigh, shoulder, and gut.
The one in the side of my abdomen hurts the worst. This is the one that I will no doubt feel for the rest of my life. Tears fill my eyes as I think about what this means for my future, for the fact that my body will never feel the same again.
It’s selfish and it’s vain, but I’m not going to be pretty anymore. How can a woman be pretty with the scars that these bullets will leave behind?
“Pippa?” a voice calls out. I know who it is, she’s visited every day since I was brought in here.
Turning my head, I look over at her. I don’t smile or show her any real expression. I feel lifeless and broken. Talking about anything at all just doesn’t interest me.
“Massimo is another month closer to getting out. You know Arlo talked to him today. He was trying to call you and worried when you didn’t answer. He’s been really worried.”
“I’m sure he has,” I deadpan.
She shakes her head, scooting toward the end of the sofa cushion. I watch as she lifts her hand and places it on the side of her round belly. Jealousy flows through me like a living, breathing thing.
Lenora doesn’t deserve my anger or jealousy. She has been nothing but kind and loving the past five years. But her life is everything I dreamt of having for myself. All of the wives have the life that I wanted, that I hoped to have when I accepted Arlo’s offer to marry a Made Man.
Instead of living with my husband, having his children, and eventually falling into a comfortable routine, maybe even falling in love with one another, I’m lying in a hospital bed after being shot.
“Pippa,” she says softly.
“His mother was shot in broad daylight, in the middle of the sidewalk. Exactly like me.”
Tears fill my eyes and I let out a cry when my body begins to tremble with my sobs. It hurts my abdomen to move at all, and my body trembling and jerking with my crying, it makes me cry even harder.
“Pippa,” Lenora murmurs.
She hurries to my side, sinking down on the bed next to me. Because she’s a good woman, she takes my hand in hers and lifts her other hand to my face to wipe away my tears.
“You can’t get upset, you’ll reinjure yourself,” she rasps.
Lifting my eyes to hers, I shake my head. “Why? Lenora. Why has all of this happened to me? Am I that bad of a person? I know I’m selfish, I used Massimo for safety and money. I don’t do anything to give back to the community with my time. I didn’t even cry when my aunt died, I was glad. Is this what I deserve? Is this what I’ve earned?” I ramble.
I don’t realize that Lenora’s hands are moving around, but I watch as she turns her head and whispers something that I can’t make out.
A nurse appears next to me, she lifts my IV with a needle in her hand before I can say another word, calmness rushes over me and my eyelids become extremely heavy. She put something in my drip. She drugged me.
* * *
It’s been two months since I was shot. Two months of being in pain. Two months of taking painkillers and isolating myself from the rest of the world, all except the nurse who helped me the first few weeks.
Now I’m completely alone. I’m used to the solitude, to the quiet, but what I’m not used to is the fear. I’m scared, terrified. I feel like someone is watching my every move.
How I didn’t know that the prison guard was watching me for who knows how long, I’ll never know. Sitting in my bed, in the dark, my legs straight out in front of me, my back resting against the headboard, I close my eyes and let out a sigh.
Reaching for the glass of wine on my nightstand with my good arm, I lift it to my lips. Wine. Drugs
and wine have been the only things I’ve ingested in weeks. I’ve lost ten pounds, inching closer to fifteen.
I’m just so tired.
My phone rings and I stare at it, knowing exactly who it is. Nobody else calls me. I’ve ignored their texts and calls for so long that they have given up. It’s better that way. Nobody needs someone like me, someone that karma has found and is expending her complete shit on.
“Hello,” I slur, unable to hear that fucking ringtone a second longer.
The operator asks me if I would like to accept the call and I let out a groan before I follow the prompts, not sure that I want to have a conversation with Massimo right now, but also knowing that it is unavoidable.
“Dolcezza,” Massimo’s voice purrs.
I snort, taking another healthy swig of my wine. I’m not his dolcezza, I never really was. His property? Yes. His fucktoy? Also, yes. His breeder? Possibly. His dolcezza? Absolutely not.
“That’s what you keep calling me,” I snap.
“You’re drunk,” he mutters.
I giggle, but it’s not a real laugh, it’s as bitter as I am. “I am, and a little high.”
“On what?” he yells.
Smiling to the empty room, I bite the inside of my cheek. “Whatever painkillers they’ve prescribed, but I’m running low and I have a feeling as quickly as I’ve gone through this last bottle, I won’t get another,” I stupidly admit.
“Pippa,” he sighs.
“What?”
“I want to be there for you, to take care of you.”
“Why?”
“Why?”
I hesitate a moment, thinking, trying to come up with the words that I want to say, what I want to ask of him. I don’t, my mind is too jumbled, too lost to the booze and painkillers. I lose all of my weak inhibitions.
“Why do you want to take care of me? I’m nothing but a liability to you, Massimo. I’m nothing but bad luck and bad karma. You need to just toss me out on my ass and be done with me,” I whisper before the blackness takes over and I pass out.
I don’t hear Massimo’s next words and I doubt that he wants me to hear them anyway.
“Because I love you, Pippa.”
MASSIMO
Freedom.
It’s not something that I ever really thought about until I was locked away and it was stripped from me. The guards hand me my shit, which isn’t much. My wallet and clothes, Salvatore took my phone along with my car keys so that Pippa could have access to it while I was gone.
My friendly guard is standing just at the exit to the facility. He dips his chin as I approach.
“I’ll miss you, but I’m glad that you’ll be going home to your wife and your life,” he says.
“Same. I’ll see you again, yeah?”
He chuckles. “Definitely.”
Walking out of the room and into the sunshine, I stop, taking in a deep breath. The sun feels different outside of these walls. It feels brighter, hotter, and just all-out fucking better.
Smirking, I jerk my chin toward Gavino and Arlo who are standing by a dark SUV, their hands folded in front of their waists as they watch me. I don’t bother looking for my wife, I know that she isn’t here. I also know that she’s still in a really bad fucking place, honestly, I can’t say that I’m much better.
“Cugino,” Gavino calls out as I approach.
He extends his hand and I slip mine in his before he tugs me close to him and slams his fist against my back. “Fuckin’ shit, it’s good to have you back,” he murmurs.
“Good to be out,” I grunt, taking a step back from him.
Arlo greets me almost the same way, but I can sense his hesitation. He isn’t sold on me, hasn’t liked the way that I’ve treated Pippa over the past five years and I can say that I don’t blame him, but at the end of the day, it’s none of his fucking business.
“We got business,” Gavino grunts.
“Already?” I ask on a small laugh.
“Yeah,” he says, jerking his chin in the air.
Climbing into the back of the SUV, I close my eyes and inhale a deep breath as the doors close around me. Reaching for the window button, I lower the window and allow the fresh air to wash over me.
Freedom.
I didn’t think it would affect me like this. I didn’t think that it would matter that much to me. I didn’t know that I craved it the way that I do. I didn’t think that I would truly change, but here I am.
I am not the man who walked into that prison.
Vino pulls up to the casino and I grin at the sight of the plain brick building in front of me. “What are we doing here?” I ask.
Vino shifts the SUV into part, then turns and looks over his shoulder at me. “Business,” he clucks with a grin.
We walk into the casino and I’m surprised to see that it’s empty. Raising my brows, I look over to Arlo, then to Gavino. Neither of them spare me a glance as they continue to walk forward. There’s a light in the distance, one of the rooms. I see it like a bright shining beacon.
The closer we approach, I can hear the hushed voices of people. A party. I shake my head. These fucks, or more like their sweet wives, have thrown me a welcome home party.
Gavino and Arlo jerk their chins, signaling for me to go first, when we’re finally in front of the door. Stepping inside, my lips turn up into a smile as soon as a crowd shouts, welcome home. My gaze flicks around the room, my eyes in search of one person and one person only.
I see her.
Standing in the corner, her big blue eyes focused on me, her body trying to disappear into the shadows so that she won’t be seen. She’s trying to hide from me, but that shit would be impossible. Pippa is the most beautiful woman in not only the room, but the world.
With my gaze focused on her, I break through the crowd, stopping to shake hands and accept congratulations when I can, but having one goal in my sight—my wife.
Making my way up to her, I stop when I’m only inches from her body, so close that she has to tilt her head back to look up at me.
Those big blue eyes of hers, that almost haunted face, the sight breaks my heart. I have no doubt that there are people watching us right now, we’re the center of attention, the thing is… I don’t give a fuck.
Lifting my hand, I almost hesitate as I cup her cheek, thinking that I’m being too bold, that someone is going to tell me to step away from her, but then I remember that I’m free. I’m no longer in prison.
I can do whatever the fuck I want, even if it’s fucking my wife right here in this room. Not that I would, but the important thing is, the main thing is, that I fucking can.
“You look tired, dolcezza. Tired but so fucking beautiful,” I rasp.
Without giving her a second to respond, I dip my chin and for the first time in five years, I really kiss my wife.
Chapter Thirty
PIPPA
He kisses me. Massimo’s tongue fills my mouth as he presses his chest against my own and my back against the wall. One of his hands stays cupping my cheek, the other wraps around my waist as his fingers dig into my flesh.
Together, we let out a moan, as I clench my thighs, my center aching for him. I whimper, he swallows the sound with a grunt as he shifts his hips forward. I let out a gasp at the feel of his hard length against my belly.
My body wants it.
Wants him.
Now.
“Massimo,” Gavino’s voice calls.
Massimo jerks from me, his forehead pressing against mine as he catches his breath, then he lifts his head and turns around, shifting his hand from my cheek to wrap around my hip, his other hand slowly falling from my waist.
“We know you are eager to get home to your wife, but first we’re going to celebrate as a famiglia. Which means, mangiare.”
He lifts his hand and points toward a table where there is food piled high. There is everything from his restaurant that I could ever imagine to order. Pastas, meats, breads, salads and then desserts.
�
�Shall we eat, dolcezza?” Massimo asks.
Tilting my head back, I look up to him and give him a small smile and a nod. Food doesn’t really interest me as much as a hit would, but I smile anyway. My gaze flits around the room until I find Arlo. He’s been my supplier since I ran out of prescription meds. He hates it, but he does it for me.
“Do you want me to make you a plate?” I ask, looking up to Massimo.
His lips twitch into a smile. “Yeah, I’ll go get you some wine and grab us a table?”
“Sure.” I grin. “Anything you don’t want?”
“Load me up with everything, dolcezza. I haven’t had real food in five years,” he grunts.
His words are, by themselves, probably meant to be said jokingly, but with his tone, I take them how he truly meant them—angry.
Nodding my head, I turn from him and start to walk away. He reaches for me, wrapping his fingers around my wrist before he spins me around and pulls me against his body.
Massimo dips his chin, his lips touching mine. “Missed you more than you could ever know, Pippa. I’ll make it all up to you, I swear it,” he breathes.
“Massimo,” I exhale.
“Food first though, yeah?”
Taking a step back, I look up at him, licking my lips. “Yeah.” I nod.
I turn around and hurry toward the table of food. Luckily, Arlo is directly in front of me, so we won’t look odd conversing.
“I can’t give you any more, he’s home, it’s time to get off that shit, Pippa.”
I curse, wishing that I could scream at him. It’s not that I want to be an addict, it’s just that’s what I am now. Karma has played her games and here I am, suffering the consequences of my actions and my reactions.
“He won’t care,” I lie.
Arlo snorts. “I’ll give you one last bottle, but Pip, it’s done, yeah?”
Nodding, I lick my lips as I load some spaghetti alla carbonara onto his plate. “Okay, Arlo.”
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