“My family is here, for Christ’s sake!” I pull my hand away just as it grazes her lacy panties. “Cut it out, Siena,” I growl. “This isn’t a fucking game anymore. This is my life!”
“You boil pasta for a living!” Siena squeaks out with a snicker. “It’s not exactly rocket science. I mean, a moron can do that at any dipshit pizza place here in Palermo.”
Oh no, she fucking didn’t just say that.
My jaw tightens. Cooking is my life. It’s the only thing in my life besides my family that makes me truly happy. And this bitch boils my passion down to fucking pasta? No pun intended.
I grit my teeth. “You know what, Siena? I’ve had way better asses than yours, and I didn’t have fucking bones poking me in all directions while I was fucking them.”
Her eyes suddenly flash with a fire that’s about to singe me, but I don’t care. I want her outta here and outta my life. She hisses at me and digs her long red fingernails into my neck, lancing at my flesh like a goddamn rabid animal. It burns, and I think she might’ve even drawn blood, crazy bitch that she is. I close my fists around her wrists and push her off of me, but not before she smacks me right in the balls with the heel of her bony hand.
“Ahh!” I moan, falling to my knees. “You’re fucking insane!”
“Insanely hot,” she says with a smirk. “You’re gonna be sorry that you gave up this pussy. You’ll never have better, Tommy. Never!” She turns to flounce her ass out of here like the princess she thinks she is. She stumbles slightly, sticking out her skinny arms to balance herself, almost like she’s walking a tightrope. If I wasn’t so pissed off, I’d laugh.
Siena staggers out the front door and slams it closed behind her, stopping long enough to flip me off before sidling up to one of the waiting cars.
I always have a few ready to go, just in case. You never know who’s gonna need to call it an early night at one of these events, especially if I do them right.
“So the model dick-punched you.” Vince’s deep voice makes me roll my eyes. Of all my fucking brothers to witness the assault, it had to be him?
I struggle to my feet, taking a few deep breaths, but the ache is so deep in my gut, I can barely stand up straight. I hobble in the direction of the kitchen way too slow, and Vince grabs my arm.
“It’s good she’s gone, bro. You of all people should never trust anyone who thinks bean sprouts and vodka constitute the major food groups.”
“Is that your twisted way of saying you’re sorry it ended?” I rasp, still cringing from the blow.
Vince smirks. “You know I don’t do sympathy. Besides, you’re crying now because she cock-knocked you, but tell the truth. She couldn’t string together a coherent sentence, and she didn’t know the difference between a stromboli and a sfogliatelle. How was she good for you, sex aside?”
I shrug. “Maybe I wasn’t looking for good. Maybe I was just looking for something. Besides, who the hell are you to give me relationship advice? It didn’t turn out too well last time you attacked my choices, remember?”
“Last time, you did your thinking with your head jammed up your ass. Since then, you’ve been thinking with the head of your cock. Neither way ends well, Tommy. For any of us.”
I clench my fists. “I’m gonna tie you to a chair and force-feed you cannoli cream until it comes out of your fucking ears for that!”
Vince lifts an eyebrow. “I don’t give in to my weaknesses, Tommy. But you…Jesus, you launch yourself right into them. Like when you killed Carlos. And sliced up the other guy whose name we still don’t know. You cook and you kill. And you’re very fucking good at both. But you never think! You’re all action, all the time! How many lives do you think you have left? Because they’re gonna run out soon if you’re not careful. And I don’t have any to spare for you.” He narrows his eyes, leaning in close. “You single-handedly made Juan Salazar our enemy when you iced his guys, and our entire family is here in Palermo right now. Do you think that was such a smart move? I mean, you’ve seen what he does to people who screw him over. You think you can battle against that? You think he’ll back down after you’ve blatantly called him out?” Vince shakes his head, letting out a frustrated sigh. “You used to be the one I could trust, the level-headed one, but you’ve gone so far off the rails, I don’t know how to get you back on them.”
But even as I hear Vince’s caustic words slice through me, my mind is somewhere else entirely.
It’s on the blonde.
And what I lost because I did exactly the opposite of what my brother ordered me to do.
Christ, no matter how hard I try, I can’t change the past. I can’t keep trying to bury my regrets under severed body parts.
I thought I’d let the enemy get away with destroying lives two years ago because I missed the signs that pointed to the real enemy.
Now that I uncovered the truth about who he is and what he’s doing, there’s no fucking way I’m going to let him take anything else away from us. He’s already taken enough, and fuck him if he thinks he’s gonna yank away my self-respect, too.
I slowly straighten up. “Here’s another thing you don’t know, Vince. I wouldn’t have made a move on Salazar if I wasn’t ready for his retaliation. I’m not an idiot. I did the research. I found the fucking hole. I missed it before, when we were so focused on the Rojas Cartel. And I missed it again when we started working with Salazar. For months, he took advantage of us, positioning himself to command everything. I had to send him that message!”
“You were supposed to keep an eye on him and run your business. That’s all!”
“Was that really your plan?” I grunt. “Have me be your errand boy again and let him fuck us up the asses while you figured out a way to take him down because we both know you aren’t stupid enough to believe he was a good partner!”
Vince shrugs. “I knew he needed a way to sanitize his cash and traffic his drugs. Restaurants are a solid bet. He bought in quick, and we had him exactly where I wanted him. Until you blew it all to shit!”
“And while he was robbing us, what the fuck were you doing? Stroking your dick while sitting on your goddamn throne? Because you have this nasty little habit of keeping shit from the people who need to do your dirty work!”
“I was working with Paolo Villani to take him out, Tommy!” Vince says in a terse voice, raking a hand through his hair. “We were baiting him, dumbass! I knew he was stealing from us and selling to the Villanis. He was trying to pit us against each other, using both of us to get access to our distribution routes. His plan was always to take out both families and claim our territories. He didn’t count on the fact that we’d figure out his plan, dipshit that he is. And we were getting ready to make our move until you fucking shot it all to hell with your little message!”
I scrub a hand down the front of my face. “Why the fuck does it feel like I’m always the last one to know your grand plans?”
Vince grins. “You’re not, don’t worry. You’re actually the first this time.”
“Great, I feel so fucking privileged now.” I sigh. “Does Salazar know that Villani is on to him, too?”
“Not yet.”
“Can we trust Paolo?”
“He’s an old friend of Pop’s and he’s got a lot to lose in this. So, yeah. I do, as much as I can trust anyone. Besides, it’s not like we have a choice.”
“That’s a bullshit answer. There’s always a choice. We can just kill him if you have any doubts.”
A groan escapes Vince’s lips. “Jesus, Tommy! Can you please stop digging our fucking grave? You’re gonna be in China soon!”
“I’m just trying to be proactive.”
“You should stick to boiling pasta,” Vince says with an eye roll.
I flip him off and head back toward the kitchen with him on my heels.
“So, who’s gonna be our new supplier once we take care of Juan?” I ask.
“Right now, I’d worry more about Juan taking a machete to your head since you stuck y
our neck out with that message of yours.”
“I can take care of myself,” I grumble. “And I’m ready for him.”
“You’d better be,” Vince says, turning toward me with a hand to my chest. “Don’t lose your focus this time, Tommy. Everything we have to lose is sitting at the corner table out there. And if you snooze for a single second, it all goes up in flames. Do you understand?”
I let out a deep sigh. “Yeah.”
“You’d better be ready this time. Because when he strikes, he’s gonna go huge and send the whole fucking world a message of his own.” We start walking again and he eyes me with curiosity. “By the way, who’s the blonde who got Siena’s thong in a twist before?” he asks.
I swallow the real answer that’s sitting on my tongue and shrug, since admitting my suspicions would be enough for Vince to take the machete to my head instead of waiting for Juan to do the honors. “Some writer.”
“She was cute,” he muses.
A tight knot locks in on the base of my neck.
Yeah, she was.
And I definitely need another look…evidently, at everyone’s peril.
Chapter Fourteen
Gemma
I swipe my hand under my eyes to catch the tears streaming down my face as I drown my regrets in cheap wine and Tommy’s chocolate chip cookies. The second I got home, my eyes flooded over and I collapsed onto the couch with the pastry box and a bottle. Other than temporarily numbing my insides, the wine has done little to mend my broken heart. It may not hurt as much in this moment, but it’s still in jagged pieces, like shards of glass that are certain to draw pain, suffering, and blood from anything that comes too close.
I sniffle, run a hand through my hair, and pick up the last cookie in the box. For a while, I couldn’t even see the bottom of the box through my blurred vision. But as my mind wandered back to the restaurant and replayed every stolen moment over and over, the tissue paper lining appeared along the bottom of the box. It was as if I needed to grab hold of anything him and devour it to fuel those memories for just a bit longer, so I wasn’t laser-focused on the rejection, the anger, and the betrayal.
I have no further instructions from Juan. I’m just stuck here, waiting, lamenting about everything I’ve lost over the past two years, wondering if the pain will ever subside. I’m so focused, in fact, that I pretty much inhaled the cookies within an hour. I clutch my stomach and let out a groan as I toss the empty box onto the floor next to me and lie my aching head down onto a throw pillow.
The small apartment is dark. The only light comes from a single candle I’d lit when I got home and the television, a cheap little flat panel I got on a major sale. Regrettably, it’s the nicest thing in this place and the only reason why I lock the door. The days of fancy shoes and handbags and jewelry are behind me unless I can figure out a way to turn my life around and get it all back.
Before today, I thought that’s what I wanted…to reclaim my life and my control over it.
Before today, I had a plan to achieve those goals.
And then once it was put in motion, I realized it’s not what I want after all.
I still crave what I could never have before and will never have in the future.
All of the money in the world can’t buy me what my heart needs most to heal and become whole again.
It’s Tommy.
It’s always been him.
I hate myself for letting that thought percolate for even a second because I’ve wandered into a very dangerous maze where there are a lot of demons that lurk in the shadows and they threaten everything I hold close to my heart, everything I have left to protect. The only problem is, I have no idea where the exits are and if I can make it out unscathed.
I did exactly what I’d set out to do. I wanted to make Tommy Marcone suffer, to punish him for what he did to me and to my family, and I wanted to create a future for myself, one filled with happiness and security.
By going to Il Gioiello tonight, I accomplished both goals.
The wheels are in motion, and there’s no turning back.
And the ache deep within my chest has only gotten heavier as the minutes tick by.
I toss the throw pillow aside and stagger into the tiny bathroom and stare at my reflection in the mirror. My hair is limp and stringy from being plastered to my scalp under that wig, my eyes red and puffy. I turn on the cold water…it’s always cold water now since I was late on the last utility bill payment…and splash some on my flushed face. I wash away the crumbs that were stuck to my lip, the last remaining remnants of him, a thought that starts the waterworks all over again.
I’d dreamed of enacting a revenge plot against Tommy for so long, so why the hell am I having buyer’s remorse? I wipe my face with the towel and toss it aside, gathering my hair into a high ponytail so I can go and lie on the couch again in misery for the foreseeable future.
“He destroyed us!” I shout at the air, my pulse throbbing so hard, my voice is muted by the blood rushing between my ears. “And I’m the traitor now because I let his smile and his stupid cutesy comments and innuendoes make me doubt everything I’ve believed over the past two years!” I grab the empty wine glass and hurl it against the wall, letting out a screech. It shatters against the thin sheetrock, splintered pieces glittering on the hardwood floor. “I’m pathetic!”
I’m also a freaking moron. The walls in this building have very sharp ears, and you can hear a pin drop from down the hall. The last thing I need is the landlord coming to inspect my sudden display of domestic violence…against myself.
Especially since I’m late on rent, too.
I grit my teeth and grab the vacuum to suck up the slivers of glass. It was a moment of passion, but I really don’t care to suffer the after effects in my bare feet. A few minutes later, I think I’ve gotten it all.
And dammit, it didn’t even make me feel better.
I’m still as lost as I was before, except now I know that I want to be found.
Two years ago, I thought I had it all.
Now, I realize that’s just a pipe dream.
There are always choices to be made.
I’ve made mine.
So now I wait for Juan’s call. He said he’d reach out to make sure the deed was done, and that he’d find me, just like he did the first time.
I’ve made the choice to preserve my life and the lives of Mama and Gio.
I did what I needed to do, and I’m not sorry at all for what happens to Tommy!
A loud knock at the door jerks me out of my bullshit self-talk and I gasp.
Oh. Crap. Is it the landlord? Or some nosy neighbor? I try to keep a low profile here and I don’t really associate with anyone because then they’d want to talk and ask questions I have no intention of answering. The only neighbor I even speak to is the elderly woman named Agatha across the hall. She is a widow with a kind smile and lives alone so I bring her mail and packages every day. Sometimes, I’ll have tea with her because I know she’s lonely and she seems to sense that I am, too.
She’s right.
But Agatha can’t really hear well. And she uses a walker, so moving around isn’t exactly her forte.
It can’t be her.
I tiptoe to the door and peer out the tiny peephole.
I jump back, recoiling as if a laser beam just shot me in the eye.
Holy fuck!
Tommy?
I peek again, just to make sure I’m not just drunk and hallucinating from the excess the sugar. But his handsome face still stares back at me. I let out an unsteady breath. Okay, so it’s not my troubled mind conjuring up fantasies.
I grasp the doorknob, my pulse thundering in my ears. How did he—?
And the question is answered before my brain has a chance to ask it.
Adolfo. Of course.
But why does he—?
My gut twists, because as much as I want to grasp that tiny shred of hope lingering in my otherwise vacant heart, I’m afraid to.
The doorknob is cold in my hand, but I let go of it as if it’s a hot poker just out of the flames.
My wig!
I can’t be me!
Adolfo dropped off Adrianna.
I mean, Alessandra!
Fuck, I’m already having an identity crisis and it’s only been a couple of hours.
I run across the small space, grab the wig, and stuff my hair under it before running back to the door. He knocks again, just as I twist the knob. The door creaks open a tad because I have the chain lock set.
He’s still a stranger, as far as Alessandra knows.
His dark eyes melt my insides and his dimples follow, finishing the job.
I’d better unhook the latch before I morph into a puddle of goo and seep into the hallway. My fingers fumble with the chain and I manage a smile, hoping my eyes aren’t as red and my skin isn’t quite as blotchy as it was last time I looked. “Um, did you come back for the box?” It’s a lame attempt at humor but I really have no idea how else to navigate this path. I can’t imagine why else—
“Or are you such a control freak that you want to see the article before I submit it to my editor?” I interrupt my thought with another question to him. My lips lift a bit higher this time, although my heart is hammering like a jackrabbit.
He grins, a slow and sexy one that awakens the butterflies that have laid dormant in my belly since I last saw him at the restaurant. God, I missed those fluttery bastards…
Two years ago, they were constantly aflutter.
I thought they’d died.
Right alongside my hopes for a future with Tommy.
“That’s a pretty bold assumption,” he murmurs. “Maybe I just wanted to talk to you some more.”
“Well, I think I have everything I need for the article.”
“For the article, yeah.” He takes a step forward, his gaze no longer curious. It’s intense…hungry…filled with desire.
Oh my God.
He wants Alessandra.
That bitch!
“But there are other things you asked about. Things that need to be said,” he continues. “Things I’ve waited to say for a long time.”
Taken: A Dark Italian Mafia Romance (Men of Mayhem Book 3) Page 15