Emilio’s Addiction (Devious #3)
Prologue
I t's almost midnight. There's a full moon and the crisp air smells of fall leaves and wood smoke. Too tired to cook after a long day at work, I decided to stop on the way home and grab a pizza, which now sits in the box on the passenger seat beside me. My stomach rumbles as the smell of pepperoni hits my nose.
I drive down the street until I reach the curvy road on the way to my small house that runs by a river and is a bitch to get through during the ice and snow. A sense of calmness washes over me at the thought of being home. I love it. It's charming and full of character, unlike the grand mansion I grew up in. They always seem to be marble and crisp white, while my house has arched doorways and narrow stairways. My kitchen’s butcher block countertop isn't pristine. It's stained and has scratches where people have used it to prepare food for decades.
The peace of the countryside and a slower pace of life are some of the things I enjoy about living on the edge of town. Though my life as I know it will end the day my brother or father picks my husband. For mafia princesses, it's their way of life, and a tradition expected of them. My family's decision to arrange my marriage stems from a desire for my protection, not financial gain. Normally, families align with other powerful families through marriage to make themselves more wealthy and more powerful. My family does it because I need to be married to someone who can protect me from our enemies. An average joe who is an accountant or a mechanic doesn't have the power to keep me safe from people out to hurt us. Being born into my family means I'll always be a target.
My situation is better than that of many others in our world. Luckily, at twenty-four years old, I've been allowed to live a normal life. Most women in this lifestyle face abuse, neglect, and degrading treatment. I’ve had a loving upbringing, thanks to my family. Despite my father's job, my parents are still wonderful people. And although I’m still expected to marry a man of their choosing, they have given me some time and freedom. It won’t be long now before I'm forced to return home and marry a repulsive old man. I know my brothers will try to pick someone according to their ability to keep me safe, but often younger women are paired with men who are old.
As I steer my car into the curve, Taylor Swift’s upbeat voice plays on the radio. Her music is my favorite and usually makes me happy, but tonight I have a knot in my stomach and an almost overwhelming sense of dread; though I'm not sure why.
My phone rings, and I wonder who could be calling so late. Looking down at the screen, I see it's my friend Kendra who I met here in town. She's always trying to drag me out to parties at nightclubs and bars with her circle of friends.
"Hey, bitch."
"Hey, bitch." She laughs. "How was the wedding?"
"Oh my God, you won't believe what happened. It was a clusterfuck of epic proportions, and the bride was hell on wheels. She was so demanding, acted like a spoiled brat, and complained about everything I did. I told you how she kept changing everything we did, which meant twice the work for me."
"Yeah, she sounds like a total bitch. I don't know how you kept her as a client," Kendra commiserates.
"Well, today, the bride found the groom fucking her maid of honor in the bathroom before the ceremony. Understandably, the wedding was canceled. The bride was in tears, her father tore into the groom, and her mother ended up hitting the maid of honor. As usual, I was left to handle the cleanup, pay the vendors, and manage the guests. Getting them all out of the venue on time was challenging. It was like being trapped inside a 90’s soap opera. The whole day was complete chaos."
Reaching up, I massage my throbbing temples.
"That's insane. What a shit show," Kendra remarks. "I’ve got the perfect remedy; come out with me, and let’s get some drinks and get our dance on."
"No, it's way too late for that. Plus, I'm exhausted from work."
"Serena, how are we ever going to find you a man if you go to bed early every night?"
"Kendra, you know that's not how my life is going to go. My life has already been mapped out for me."
As much as I love Gio and Marcello, they won't allow me to grow up and have my life. No man is allowed to come near me because they threaten to kill anyone who tries. Even though I know it is their way of protecting me, it makes me feel like I am only valued for one thing. In an Italian mafia family, the daughters are to be kept pure until marriage. If you are not a virgin, you are considered ruined and accused of bringing shame on your family. Many women are shunned or even killed for losing their virginity, even if it's not their choice.
"I understand that. You've told me all about the archaic and barbaric traditions your family has, but we can still go out and have fun. We'll make sure your family isn't disgraced by you being a complete whore. Stop being an old lady and come out with me." Kendra giggles.
Luckily, my family isn't as bad as most mafia families, but the purity requirement stands. Growing up in an ostentatious mansion in a mafia family, I wanted something different. Most mob princesses, some as young as eighteen, are sold off to the highest bidding men to become breeders and wives. My family has been lenient with me, allowing me to wait so long.
Right now, I feel like I’m on a precipice, with only a loveless and miserable arranged marriage ahead of me. Whereas my heart truly desires a fulfilling career and a life outside the family business.
As I come around the curve, something lying in the middle of the road takes me by surprise, leaving me with no time to react. The sound of a loud thump fills the air, followed by the piercing screech of my tires as I slam on the brakes.
"Serena? Serena? Are you okay?" Kendra’s panicked voice calls out.
"I have to go," I say as I hang up the phone hurriedly.
Pulling over, I unclip my seat belt and get out, anxious to see what I hit. As I trudge to the front of my car, I see a person face down on the asphalt, and from their large size I think it's a man. He's dressed in dark clothing, maybe a hoodie and sweatpants, though it's hard to tell in the dark. Why the hell is a person walking in the road wearing dark clothing at this time of night? I mean, I’m not blaming him, but there’s no way I could’ve seen him dressed like this.
As I take a step closer, I notice a glistening crimson pool seeping from beneath the figure in the dim light.
My body quivers as a scream escapes me, echoing around the desolate road. My heart races, pounding in my chest as panic surges through my veins. The cool night air rushes against the beads of sweat that have gathered on my forehead, and I shudder as I wipe my clammy palms against my clothes
As I stand there, my gaze fixed on the motionless figure on the ground, a wave of guilt crashes over me. Is he dead? Oh God, did I kill him? How did I not see him? Was I driving too fast? Questions swirl in my mind, tormenting me.
I take hesitant steps closer, my legs heavy with dread, the surrounding silence amplifying my pounding heart. The sight before me is a haunting display that sends shivers down my spine. His body, contorted and limp, lies on the ground like a broken doll. The pool of blood beneath him grows larger, its metallic scent filling the air and making my stomach churn.
My breath catches in my throat as I dare to look closer, but the face remains hidden beneath the body. Time seems to stand still, the world around me fading away as I become transfixed by this devastating scene. The headlights from the car shine on the body, making the red liquid beneath him seem brighter.
I get myself together enough to look up and see if there is a car around. The person must have been on foot. Does he live close to here? Why was he walking?
Deciding to call out to him to see if I can get a response, I stand over him. "Sir, sir, are you okay?" Oh God, he's dead. What do I do? My hands go up to both cheeks as I panic.
My mind races with a mix of emotions—fear, regret, and an overwhelming sense of responsibility. Tears well up in my eyes, blurring my vision as the weight of the moment bears down on me. As soon as Gio and Marcello hear what's happened, they will undoubtedly call for my immediate return and eliminate any remaining semblance of freedom I have.
Dad's decision to let me move away from the city was met with strong disapproval from Gio, who is known for being overprotective.
While my family means everything to me, I always knew that I wanted a different path in life, one that didn't involve the mafia. My stomach churns with anxiety at the thought of ending someone's life, and now I've done just that. Like the mobsters, I'm no different.
Fear shoots down my spine as I wipe my clammy, trembling hands on my clothes again. I feel like I'm sweating buckets. My mouth tastes like ash as I try to think clearly.
Turning away from the body lying on the road, I consider my options. I could call my brothers, but all they'll do is cover up what I've done anyway and use it to control me forevermore. Alternatively, I could call an ambulance; however, going by the amount of blood pooling beneath the body, it's too late.
Deciding that nothing I can do will help this guy, I run and jump back in my car as my chin quivers and my eyes swim in unshed tears. My thoughts are moving too fast to make sense of them. Looking in the rearview mirror as I drive away, the darkness devours the body until he's out of sight.
I manage to complete my journey home on autopilot, tears streaming down my face as I pull into my driveway. As I walk toward the front of the car, I can't help but notice the vivid red splatters of blood contrasting against the white paint, along with a noticeable dent. The downside to living in this house is that I don't have a garage, so I have nowhere to hide my crimes. If anyone asks, I’ll tell them I hit a deer on the way home from work.
Overwhelmed and disoriented, I stumble into my house, desperately locking the door behind me as my body collapses against the wall, sinking to the floor.
"Jesus, what have I done," I whisper to myself.