Reign (The Italian Cartel Book 3)

by Shandi Boyes

  29

  Roxanne

  “It isn’t as it seems. I swear to God, I have no clue what happened back there.”

  “It’s okay,” Rocco assures me, his pace lowering so he can rub my arm reassuringly. “I don’t give a fuck what the Doc said. We know the truth.”

  I want to believe his ‘we’ is referring to him and Dimitri, but regretfully, the knot in my gut won’t allow me to portray a brainless bimbo. He was referencing Smith, who has done everything in his power to discredit Dr. Klein’s integrity for the past two hours. He combed through decades of records, sought any insurance claims that may have been settled out of court, and he even reached out to his ex-wife. All avenues were extinguished without the slightest spark being ignited. Unlike Dr. Bates, Dr. Klein’s records are as clean as a whistle.

  Smith said he would continue scouring for evidence. Fien is back, so he has nothing else to fill his time, but I told him not to bother. There’s only one person I want to believe me, and he’s been ignoring Rocco’s calls as often as he would mine if I knew his cell phone number.

  “Do you know how long we’re planning to camp out here for?” I ask Rocco just as we reach my room.

  He scrubs at the fine hairs on his chin. “First plan was for three or four days. That’s about how quickly the media would move on to another story. When the public interest shifts, so do the Feds.”

  It sucks to agree with him, but I do.

  “But things are a little muddled now.” He opens my door before gesturing for me to enter before him. “No one was expecting to find Audrey alive.” I’m surprised he sounds more annoyed than relieved. Although he works for Dimitri, he is also his best friend, so shouldn’t he be happy he got his little family back? “Since she’s not fit to fly, we could be here a little longer.”

  “Great.”

  After flopping onto the mattress, I throw a hand over my eyes. I’m not tired, I just want to hide the tears the ruffling of Dimitri and my combined scents caused my eyes.

  I’m so damn emotional lately. Take my exchange with India when Dimitri raced out of the room like his ass was on fire. She called me a homewrecking whore, and I just stood there and took it. I didn’t slap her. I didn’t put her in her place. I just stared at her with enough fire in my eyes, the tears welling in them didn’t have a chance in hell of falling.

  That killed me. I wouldn’t hold back my retaliation if Audrey called me that, so a stranger who doesn’t know me has no right to speak to me in such a manner. Yet, I let her.

  I scold myself for a couple of minutes before I roll onto my hip to face Rocco. I’m not surprised to spot his unhidden watch. He has barely taken his eyes off me since Dimitri rocketed out of the room like he had a jetpack strapped to his back. “What’s the story with India? I get she’s standing up for her best friend, but something about her rubs me the wrong way.”

  “You’re not the only one,” Rocco mutters under his breath before he joins me in lying on his side. He stares at me for a couple of moments, pondering on what to say before he comes right out with it. “Dimitri and India were almost a thing a couple of years ago.”

  I hate thinking about Dimitri with anyone but me, but as they say, curiosity killed the cat. “Almost?”

  Rocco boinks my nose, wordlessly advising he heard the jealousy in my one word. “Almost. They had a handful of dates. One night, they were heading back to her apartment to… you know—”

  “I get it. You don’t need to spell it out for me,” I interrupt, fighting the urge not to gag.

  He throws his head back and laughs, says something about Princess Peach being extra cute when she’s jealous, then gets back to his story. “They didn’t get past a rough game of tonsil hockey when Dimitri spotted Audrey. Despite India’s best efforts, Dimi wanted Audrey then and there.” This hurts to hear, but I love his honesty. “She wasn’t having a bit of it, though.”

  I balk like he jabbed a knife under my ribs. “Audrey turned Dimitri down?”

  Don’t mistake the shock in my tone. Audrey is beautiful, and I can imagine the number of men she had clambering for her attention, but still, I’m shocked. I couldn’t turn Dimitri down when he had the blood of my father on his shirt. I don’t think he could do anything that would see me rejecting him. Even now, believing he isn’t on my side hasn’t changed my objective. I would stupidly sign on to be his mistress if it’s the only way I could be a part of his life.

  “Yeah,” Rocco responds with a laugh. “Then the chase pursued. I honestly didn’t think she’d ever give in, then all of a sudden, she arrived on his doorstep.”

  My eyes pop out of my head. “Audrey went to Hopeton?”

  Rocco nods. “She spent a couple of weeks there, then moved back to her hometown two weeks before she found out she was pregnant with Fien.” He shrugs like he isn’t cut about the gap in his friendship with Dimitri. “The rest is a little hazy for me from there. I stepped back as Dimitri stepped up.”

  “You came back when he needed you, Rocco.” I’m not trying to weaken his guilt. I’m being straight-up honest.

  “Yeah, but I can’t help but wonder if things would have been different if I had hung around.” He peers at nothing while muttering, “I might have noticed something fishy, or watched Audrey while Dimitri was watching you. There’s more I could have done.”

  “And no guarantee any of them would have made any difference. Everything happens for a reason.”

  Rocco scoffs, then peers at me as if I’m an idiot. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”

  I push him on the shoulder, unappreciative of the candor in his tone. “Of course I do.”

  This is outrageous for me to say, but if Audrey hadn’t been kidnapped, perhaps Dimitri and I would never have crossed paths. His watch wouldn’t have made me climax, Eddie wouldn’t have needed to retaliate to my ‘deceit,’ and Dimitri wouldn’t have killed him for hurting me. If none of that had happened, I’d still be in the town I hate, unemployed without two nickels to rub together, and most likely looking for a cheap thrill somewhere I’d end up either dead or a drug addict like my parents.

  Or worse, I could have been sold to a baby-farming syndicate.

  My voice has an unusual twang to it when I ask, “Do you think Dr. Klein’s diagnosis is why my mother changed her mind?”

  Rocco tries to shut down his surprise at the quick change of our conversation, but he isn’t quite fast enough for this little black duck. “I’m unfamiliar with girlie shit, but I’m reasonably sure you can’t diagnose PCOS by looking at someone.”

  “You can’t, but you can via an ultrasound, which I had the week before my meeting with my father.” Confusion crosses his features, but he doesn’t get the chance to seek clarification for it. “For years, I had horrible periods. Cramping, clots, and—”

  “I get it. You don’t need to spell it out for me.” Rocco grins to ensure I know there’s no malice in his reply. He’s mortified I’m discussing my cycle with him, but he’ll handle the injustice if it helps unjumble some of his confusion.

  “I went to a local women’s clinic. They usually just stuffed condoms in my hand and sent me on my merry way, but there was a doctor on that day who specialized in reproductive organs. He sent me for a sonogram. Since I was young and under the impression I didn’t want to have kids any time in the next century, I—”

  “Didn’t go back for the results,” Rocco fills in, clicking on. “Sounds like something you’d do. I’m beginning to wonder if you are allergic to doctors with how hard you try to avoid them.” After scrambling to a half-seated position, he digs his cell phone out of his pocket. “Smith…”

  I take a mental note to remember any conversations I have with Rocco are never private when Smith replies, “I’m hacking into the clinic’s mainframe now. They’re as lax on security as you.”

  Rocco laughs before replying, “If you get anything, come back to us.”

  My inclusion in Smith and Rocco’s duo is appreciated, but I just realized
how foolish I’m being. Instead of discrediting India’s claims I was never pregnant, I’m feeding the hype. This won’t help me convince Dimitri I was telling the truth. It could do the exact opposite.

  It dawns on me that Rocco has mindreading abilities when he says, “Although this won’t aid in smoothing things over with Dimitri, it could give us a lead on the people playing him.”

  “He got the people playing him.” I speak slowly as if he is deaf. In reality, I need time to process my words since I’m so damn confused. “Rimi is dead.”

  Loving the uncertainty in my voice, Rocco hits me with a frisky wink before he heads for the door. My heart is a twisted mess, but since my head is still screwed on straight, I race him for the door, slamming it before he gets close to exiting. “Tell me everything you know.”

  “I don’t—”

  I cut off his lie with a glare before adding words into the mix. “You asked me to jump. I sailed over the edge without fear. That makes me a part of this…” I wave my hand around my room as if Dimitri, Fien, and Smith are with us, “… and I don’t care what Dimitri says, I’m going to be a part of it until the end.”

  Rocco leans so close to me, I smell what he ate for breakfast in his shallow breaths. “Some would say the curtains are already closed, Roxie. That the show is over.”

  I return his lean without the slightest bit of fear knocking my knees together. “And I’d say they’re full of shit because even gangsters know the show isn’t over until the lights go out.”

  I saw the light in Dimitri’s eyes when he glanced down at me partway through my story, felt it heating my skin. It isn’t close to being snuffed, so that not only means I need to keep fighting, I must do everything in my power to keep it lit.

  I am, after all, the reason for its glow.

  Rocco licks his lips before cracking them into a smile. “Are you sure you want to go down this road, Princess P? Your castle is mighty enticing, but everyone knows mushrooms grow in fungi.”

  I’m a little lost to what he means, but I figuratively roll up my sleeves, preparing for battle. “You shouldn’t underestimate mushrooms. They’re all edible, but some you will only nip at once.”

  30

  Dimitri

  I spot Roxanne’s race past the downstairs sitting room I’m using as an office before she pivots back around and charges into my room. Considering her foot is still a little bunged-up from her time under Rimi’s watch, she moves quickly.

  I’m not surprised. Her firecracker personality suits her hair coloring. I don’t see anything slowing her down. Not even my rejection the past three days has made an indent to her fiery personality. That’s why I upped the ante today.

  Unlike India’s numerous staff, Roxanne doesn’t knock and wait for permission to enter. She steamrolls into the room at the speed of sound, her steps so fast, the smell I’ve fought like hell to ignore the past three days whips up around me, tightening the front of my pants even more than her beautiful face.

  “Can you please tell this lady…” She spits out her last word like she’s doubtful India’s head of housekeeping is a woman. Sofia is standing outside of the door, clutching the bag I asked her to pack for Roxanne in her hand. “That I do not have a flight to Hopeton scheduled for tonight. She’s packing my things like I’m—”

  “Leaving?” She closes her mouth, pinches her brows, then nods. “You are leaving. That’s why Sofia is packing your belongings.”

  My jaw tightens to the point of cracking when Roxanne steps closer to my desk. My hands itch to touch her, but I ball them at my sides instead. The past three days have been pure torture, but the threads I stupidly stopped seeking days ago are popping back up everywhere. There is almost enough of them to ruin an entire outfit, and if the person who killed my baby with Roxanne is wearing it when I hit it with my wrath, I’m all for shredding every last piece of it.

  With her eyes locked on mine, seeking any deceit in them, Roxanne says, “Rocco only said this morning that we need to lay low for a couple more days.”

  What she’s saying is true. Although pissed I didn’t hold back and wait as agreed upon, the Feds aren’t the only one chasing my tail. The CIA is right there with them. I’d gloat if it didn’t mean I have to maintain an amicable relationship with India. She’s more demanding than Audrey, and I’m not even married to her.

  With the annoyance on my face believable, I use it to my advantage. “Yes, we need to lay low for a few more days. Since the men Officer Daniel was working with have been taken care of, you are no longer included in that equation.”

  Roxanne scoffs, huffs, then scoffs again, truly unsure how to respond. Her shock is understandable. I’m a neurotic, jealous prick when it comes to her, but to play this game right, I have to live up to the hype of my last name. Shipping Roxanne off is the next logical step. Then, not only will the woman I’m chasing lose her scent, she’ll shift her focus back to her original target—my wife.

  Do I feel like an absolute cunt drawing the focus of a deranged woman back to Audrey? Yes, I do. But the knot in my gut is nowhere near as tight as it is when I consider what could happen if I don’t. Roxanne put her life on the line for me, she lost our child in the process. I owe her this level of protection.

  Some may say Audrey deserves to be safeguarded the same way. I agree, for the most part. There’s just a niggle in my gut that won’t quit warning me to remain cautious when it comes to anything to do with Audrey. It feels like there’s more at play here than just my marriage, and when I find out what it is, there will be hell to pay.

  Once Roxanne settles her emotions, she folds her arms in front of her chest. I really wish she wouldn’t. I sustained from sexual activities for almost two years, but that was my choice. This, however, is not. “We’re not doing this again, Dimitri. You’re not sending me away to see if I’ll come back. We’ve done that, we moved past it, now can we please get onto the real issue here. I can help you. You’ve just got to let me in.”

  My mask almost slips when her voice cracks at the end, but I suit back up, forever ready for battle. Her departure won’t be forever. If I play my cards right, she could be back in my bed, where she belongs, by the end of the week.

  But, if I don’t play my hand with the viciousness it deserves, I won’t have any cards left to place down. They will be burned, scorched, left wilted without purpose, and they’d still make it out of the carnage better than Roxanne.

  I refuse to let that happen.

  I’ll kill every fucking person in this godforsaken kingdom before I will ever let Roxanne be hurt like the numerous scenarios that have played out in my head over the past three days. That’s how much she means to me. That’s how much it is gutting me knowing I failed her.

  I promised to protect her. I’m only upholding my end of our agreement now. Some may say it is too late, but it’s better than not at all.

  My hostile mood is heard in my voice. “I’m not sending you away to see if you’ll come back. Our agreement is over. My daughter is home, so there’s no reason for you to stay anymore.”

  The shock on Roxanne’s face switches to frustration. “You don’t believe what we had was an agreement.”

  “I do,” I reply matter-of-factly, halving the fiery glint in her eyes. “That’s why you’ve spent the past three nights alone.” And why I’ve slept in my daughter’s room each night because she’s the only person capable of stealing your devotion, and even then, it’s a struggle. But since that isn’t something I can say, I keep my mouth shut.

  I should have realized she’d see straight through my ruse. She isn’t just attractive, she’s smart as well. “You’ve been with Fien?” Since she’s unsure about the authenticity of her statement, it comes out sounding like a question. “Right?”

  “Wrong.” I lower my eyes to the paperwork in front of me, acting as if the pain in her eyes isn’t affecting me. “If you want a rundown on my activities of late, perhaps I can get Smith to clip together some footage for you. Would you like it with
or without sound?” I feel like a complete and utter prick when I lock my hooded eyes with hers and mutter, “I’m sure you understand how vocal some women are when they’re being fed a healthy dose of dick.”

  Roxanne looks set to blow her top. She’s red-faced, her fists are clenched, and steam is almost billowing out of her ears, but she keeps her cool—mostly. “You can order someone to pack my bags, you can march me onto a plane on the shoulder of one of your goons, but you will never be rid of me…” she tightens her arms under her chest, all sassy like, “… because I’m unforgettable.”

  “My wife said that once too. She soon learned otherwise. I can only hope it won’t take my mistress quite as long.”

  That was a low blow. I know it, and so the fuck does Roxanne.

  “You… you… ugh!”

  On her way out, she slams the door shut so hard, it knocks a priceless painting from the wall. I could pick it up, but it’s broken frame and shattered glass adds to my ruse that I’m done with her. Not even a woman known for her theatrics can hold back the urge to drink in a daily dose of drama. “Someone isn’t happy. Did she misread the fine print that discloses the Petrettis don’t do monogamy?”

  Knowing Theresa will never fall for the sweet-guy act, I bring out the asshole gene I was gifted from my father. “Or perhaps she also doesn’t appreciate walking in on her understudy giving me head.”

  Air whizzes out of her thin nose as her eyes slit. “You invite me to some Hicksville mansion on the guise you want to talk shop, then insult me within a second of arrival. If I wanted to be treated like scum, I would have accepted your father’s many offers to become your step-mommy.”

  “I like the way you said that as if you haven’t had my father’s withered dick between your legs. It was very authentic.” I stand from my chair, button my suit jacket, then gesture for her to join me for a late-afternoon drink at a crystal bar set up next to two leather couches. “I have a business proposal for you. An easy exchange. Shouldn’t take you any longer than thirty minutes.”