4. Gemma
Chapter 4
Gemma
The day from Hell was finally over.
Parking in my driveway, I hauled my ass out of the car, groaning as I placed both hands on my lower back. It ached from standing for ten hours straight, and I’d just barely been able to keep my job.
Earlier, the floor had dropped out from beneath me when I saw a text from Benny telling me that if I wasn’t there in the next thirty minutes, I could clean out my locker. A gap in employment would kill me right now.
My nose wrinkled at the stench clinging to my clothing after I’d been on my knees scrubbing the urinals after closing. I gave it a week before the scent seeped into the fibers of my driver’s seat and I had a permanent reminder of the ridiculousness of this day.
Reaching for my keys, I dug through my purse as I approached the three steps to my front porch.
Closing my fingers around the jagged metal, I lifted my head and let out a blood-curdling scream.
It was well past midnight, and there was a man sitting on my porch, hidden in the shadows where the lightbulb had burned out beside the door.
Scrambling back toward my car—silently cursing myself for not going right out and replacing the gun now held in police custody—I peeked over my shoulder as long legs unfolded and whoever was lurking stood.
Jesus, he was big. I wouldn’t stand a chance if he wanted to violate me.
“Sorry, Kitten. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
Kitten? Why does that sound so familiar?
Wait a minute . . .
Heart racing, I paused my panic to turn and take a closer look. The man stepped into the light from my neighbor’s porch, and too-long blond hair came into view. It was the fucking guy from earlier at the DMV.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said under my breath. My keys jangled as I folded both arms over my chest. “Are you stalking me now? Haven’t you done enough for one day? I almost lost my job because of you.”
He tucked both hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Shit, babe. I’m sorry.”
What is wrong with this guy? First Kitten, and now babe?
I blew out a breath. “Look, I don’t know what your deal is, but I thought I made it clear earlier when you asked me out.” I clapped my hands to punctuate each word. “Not. Interested.”
Okay, that was only partly true. There was a small piece of me that had been initially intrigued by his good looks and tall, muscular body, but then he’d gone and ruined it by being an entitled prick when he cut the line and put my job in jeopardy.
Flashing me a smirk that I was about ten seconds away from slapping off his too-handsome face, he replied, “You were right earlier.”
“What?”
He was either brave or stupid for venturing closer until only a foot of space separated us. “I had no right to jump in front of you today. You were totally justified in your reaction.”
Well, this was new: a man admitting he was wrong. I didn’t know what to make of it.
“Um, thanks?”
A mischievous gleam entered those brilliant blue eyes. “But I can’t say I’m sorry it happened.”
My eyebrows rose high on my forehead. “Excuse me? You enjoyed that I lost my shit and screamed at you in a room full of strangers?”
“Come on, Gemma.”
Wait. How does he know my name?
“Just think of how much fun we’ll have sharing our unique meet-cute story with our kids someday.”
Meet-cute? Kids? What the fuck was he talking about?
Maybe I’m dreaming. Because nothing he’s saying is making any sense.
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I closed my eyes and muttered, “I don’t even know which part of that sentence I want you to explain first.” Pausing, I mentally flipped a coin. “What in the hell is a meet-cute?”
“Oh!” The excitement in his voice had my eyes popping open. His near-permanent grin grew wider, if that was even possible, and he bounced on the balls of his feet. “It’s the adorable way people meet in romance books.”
“Never read one,” I admitted with a shrug.
“What?” Those blue eyes bulged. “Well, we can fix that right up. My boy, Braxton’s, girl writes them. I bet I can get her to hand over a few copies. Knowing her, she’d sign them if I told her you were a fan.”
I held up my hand to cut him off. “I’m all set.”
“You sure? Dakota’s super nice. And she’s going to want to meet my woman.”
My brain came screeching to a halt. Did he say his woman?
Letting out a huff, I scanned him, searching for signs that would answer my next question. “I’m sorry, but I have to ask: are you high or something?”
He barked out a laugh. “High on life, Kitten. Nothing else.”
“And what’s with the Kitten thing?”
Fucking hell, why was I engaging with this guy? He was clearly unstable. I should be trying to extract myself from this conversation, not actively prolonging it.
“That’s easy. Because you’re the black cat to my golden retriever.” He ran a hand through that chin-length hair hanging loose. “Big fan of the claws, by the way.”
I scoffed. “Aren’t dogs and cats supposed to hate each other?”
“Nah. They’re both furry piles of love that just wanna cuddle.” He winked at me like we were on the same page, which we most certainly were not.
“Not really helping your case in convincing me you’re not on drugs, buddy.”
He made a crossing gesture over his heart. “I swear it. Plus, I’m subject to no-notice drug testing at work.”
“Hmmm. Okay, well. It’s been nice chatting with you—“ My sentence cut off abruptly when I realized I didn’t know his name.
“Sasha,” he supplied, extending a hand for me to shake.
“Sasha? Isn’t that a girl’s name?”
Yeah, I knew I was being rude, but it was late at night, and this guy had ambushed me at my home. Not sure he deserved my version of polite after what he’d put me through earlier, either.
Nodding, he agreed, “Yeah, sometimes. It’s also a nickname for Aleksander. But no one ever calls me that, so don’t even think about it, Kitten.”
“Strange,” I muttered.
Sasha flashed those pearly whites that were so dazzling they could be seen easily in the dark.
When he simply continued to stare at me, not uttering another word, I began to squirm. His intense attention was too much, and I didn’t like how it made me feel—like he was cataloging everything about me. He might not be mentally stable himself, but I could only imagine what he thought of the psychotic break I’d had in the DMV today.
Ducking my head, I stepped around him. “Okay. I’m gonna head in.”
“Aren’t you forgetting something?”
I’d already made it up the porch steps, so I spun around. The way he licked his lips as he stared at my mouth told me what he wanted.
Nope. Not happening. Best to let him down gently now.
“If you’re looking for a goodnight kiss, you can forget it. Clearly, you’ve got some little fantasy playing out in your mind about us being together, but let me be the first to tell you it’s not real. This”—I gestured between us—“isn’t a thing. We aren’t a thing. So, thanks for stopping by in the middle of the night to give me a heart attack, but it’s been a long day, and I’ve reached my limit on the amount of crazy I can handle. Good night, and goodbye.”
Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out his wallet. Flipping it open, he slid out something the shape of a credit card and held it up. “Your license?”
I gaped at him. “How— When—“ The pieces weren’t clicking.
“You ran off so fast you forgot to grab it this afternoon, babe. So, I promised our new bestie, Vince, that I’d make sure you got it.”
Again, with the babe. This guy needed professional help. His delusions were off the charts.
But at least now I didn’t have to lie awake tonight trying to figure out how he knew not only my name but where I lived. All that info was printed neatly on the driver’s license perched between his fingertips.
When he didn’t move, I was forced to close the gap between us to snatch the laminated card from his grasp.
“Thanks. It’s been fun, but let’s not do this again, okay?”
Sasha chuckled. “You’re adorable when you’re all grumbly.”
And you belong in a straitjacket.
Unlocking my front door, I stepped inside, shooting one last parting shot before I hoped I would never see his face again. “And get a haircut.”
Latching the door, I slid the deadbolt, but I could have sworn I heard his dejected voice say, “You don’t like my hair?”
Jesus. Thank God this day was finally over.
“What happened to keeping a low profile, Gemma?” My brother, Enzo, didn’t bother with pleasantries when I picked up his call.
Plopping down on the couch, I dramatically threw an arm over my eyes, even though he couldn’t see me. At least he could hear the accompanying sigh.
“I tried, okay? But shit’s not exactly going my way right now.”
“I’ll say.” Enzo huffed. “Your public meltdown is all over social media.”
I sat up straight. I’d thought he’d gotten some chatter through the police channels about Joey and him having a gun registered in my name. I had no idea his call was related to the run-in with the kooky blond giant at the DMV.
“Look, Enzo, I was having a moment,” I tried to explain.
“More than a moment from the looks of it. You look like you’re about to have a stroke. And do me a favor. Stay off the internet. The comments aren’t kind—that’s putting it mildly—and I don’t need you getting into an argument with the keyboard warriors.”
“Fine.” He was right. I didn’t need to add fuel to the fire I’d started.
He might be my little brother by two years, but he’d never had trouble talking down to me like I was a child.
“Part of our agreement to let you branch out on your own was that you fly under the radar. A stunt like this is asking for trouble. You’re putting yourself in danger, letting everyone—including our enemies—know exactly where you are.”
“I’m sorry. I am. But this guy just walked in off the street right as they called my number, and the desk clerk basically told me to sit down and shut up, and I lost it.”
I could hear Enzo scraping his hand over the scruff along his jaw through the phone. “And you couldn’t let him go first? You decided that making a scene big enough for people to whip out their phones to record it was better? You assaulted a DMV employee, Gemma. I’m honestly surprised that I didn’t have to come down there to bail your ass out.”
Eating crow was never fun. Having the time and space to reflect on my behavior, I knew I’d overreacted. But in that moment, I couldn’t see past the injustice, having been triggered by a history of being treated like a second-class citizen in my own fucking family.
“I was late for work.” I sighed, knowing how stupid and trivial it sounded.
“You work in a bar, Gemma.” God, he was so judgy. In his mind, it was beneath a Bellini to hold a job in the service industry. Bellinis were expected to be served by others.
“I’m well aware. Thanks for stating the obvious, baby brother.”
If he wanted to play this game, I could lean on years of practice pushing the right buttons.
“Do you want to come back home?“ The condescension in his tone had me flipping him the bird. Too bad for me, he couldn’t see it.
“No,” I shot back. “I’m just in a tight spot right now and can’t afford to lose my job.”
He huffed out a laugh. “That’s what this is about? Money? For fuck’s sake. I’ll send you money. How much do you need?”
“Did you ever stop to think why I choose to work in a bar, Enzo? It’s because I’d rather do that than accept one more penny of this family’s dirty money.”
“How many times do I have to tell you that we have plenty of legitimate streams of income?” His annoyance at having this argument for the millionth time was audible.
“You can tell me till you’re blue in the face, and it won’t make a difference. I’m not stupid. I know all those legitimate businesses were seeded by funds earned from the illegal ones.”
“I don’t know what you want from me. We don’t deal drugs, and we stay far away from the skin trade. You act like running underground casinos is akin to killing puppies.”
“I want a new family!” I screamed, my temper flaring.
Enzo snorted. “Yeah, well, good luck with that. Can you just behave yourself, please? I’ve got enough to deal with right now, with Gio gone and Matteo taking over the reins with no notice and needing me to hold his hand through it all.”
“Wait a minute.” That was new information. Leave it to my brother to casually drop a bomb like that in my lap. “What do you mean Gio’s gone and Matteo is in charge?”
A sigh sounded over the line. “Gio found Rory. Or he thinks he did. Either way, he’s following a lead.”
I stopped breathing.
One of the reasons I’d begged to leave was because tragedy seemed to befall the women of the Bellini family, and I would be damned if I became the next victim.
Matteo, the baby of the first cousins at seven years my junior, was recently widowed and currently struggling to raise his two young daughters while playing the role of CEO, dealing with Bellini’s real estate holdings.
Giovanni, who was five years younger than me, was the heir to the Bellini Mafia and had been handed the mantle of Don after Uncle Dominic’s passing. His wife, Rory, was Irish mafia royalty. Their union had strengthened our alliance with the O’Malley family, and with their backing, the Bellinis practically ran Chicago.
A few years back, Rory disappeared—just poof. There one day, gone the next. Gio spent months tearing the city apart, blaming the Russians for kidnapping her. Or at least, that was the show he put on for her powerful Irish family, so they didn’t turn on us.
But those of us on the inside knew the truth.
Rory ran.
Couldn’t say I blamed her. This wasn’t a life I would have chosen for myself, and Rory hadn’t been lucky enough to escape being sold off into marriage.
Having known Gio my entire life, I knew he wasn’t an abusive man—not like my father—but he wasn’t warm either. As the heir, he’d been raised to always get his way, for everyone’s will to bend to his own, and he wouldn’t take the slight of his wife running off lying down. It wasn’t a surprise he was chasing down the first lead he’d gotten in years.
I sent up a silent prayer that she could outrun him. But a determined Bellini man—Gio in particular—was a force to be reckoned with; something I knew from personal experience. She’d landed a blow to his pride and made him look weak to his men, and if he ever found her, Rory would be in for a world of pain—even if it wasn’t physical.
“You’re Gio’s second. If Matteo can’t handle stepping in, why don’t you just do it?”
“Gemma, you know how it works. I might be older and have more experience with the inner workings of the family dealings, but birth order is everything. The men expect Matteo, not me, to take over should anything happen to Gio. If I did, it would seem like a coup.”
Right. Couldn’t forget that the line of succession was set in stone.
Uncle Dominic and my father were twins. But because Uncle Dom came out first, he was instantly declared the heir, with Dad being named the spare. That meant Gio, then Matteo, were in direct line to take over after Uncle Dom’s death. My brother was a second son’s son, so the best he could hope for was the position he held at Gio’s side as he sat at the head of our family.
That was, unless the unimaginable happened and both our cousins met an untimely end. Given their line of work, that scenario wasn’t entirely beyond the scope of possibility.
A shiver rolled down my spine. I might have fought like hell to get away from the life they lived, but they were still my family. I didn’t want to see anything bad happen to any of them.
We’d been raised as a unit—the four of us cousins—growing up without our mothers. As soon as they’d popped out a couple of kids, both had been sent away, having served their intended purpose. Yet another reason that I wanted out. I refused to be reduced to nothing more than a broodmare for some powerful man, only to be discarded like a piece of trash once I was deemed no longer useful.
“How are the girls?”
Matteo hadn’t planned to cast his wife aside as our fathers did, but his daughters still ended up motherless.
My brother sighed. “Bianca misses her mom and is giving every nanny a run for their money. There’s been a revolving door of them every couple of weeks. Serafina’s still not sleeping through the night, so Matteo’s being run ragged. It’s a mess, Gem.”
Those little girls were the only part of my old life I missed. My heart ached, desperate to wrap them up in my arms, to tell them that they were loved, and to make sure they grew up with the strength to survive this family. The thought of leaving them behind had almost been enough to make me stay, but self-preservation won out in the end. I was putting on my own oxygen mask so that, someday, I could help them with theirs.
With my heart in my throat, my words came out choked. “Can you give them a hug from Auntie Gemma when you see them next?”
“Yeah.”
“Thanks.” A normal person might cry, but I’d learned long ago that it was seen as a sign of weakness in my father’s eyes and had broken myself of the habit.
“I’m only trying to keep you safe.” Enzo blew out a breath. More than once, he’d thrown himself in the line of fire for me growing up, and I knew that even when he was hard on me, it was because of his deep-seated need to protect me.
“I know,” I whispered.
“Please let me send you some money.”
“I’m good, Enzo. I wouldn’t want to incur any debts.”
Debts must always be paid. That was our family’s motto. Whether it was money or a life, the Bellinis always found a way to collect on any outstanding balance.
“It wouldn’t be a debt. You’re a member of this family. I’m supposed to be the one taking care of you.”
“And as your older sister, I’ll remind you that I’m a thirty-seven-year-old woman, fully capable of standing on her own two feet. I know it’s not how you’d want to see me living, but I’m happier here than I ever was in Chicago. Let me do this.”
“Fine.” The accompanying huff betrayed what he’d left unsaid—that I was too stubborn for my own good, and he didn’t agree with me but knew better than to continue arguing. “Can you at least promise me to stay out of trouble for a while? At least until the dust settles up here?”
I bit back a retort that I was never actively seeking trouble, yet somehow, it always managed to find me. That wouldn’t help my case in remaining free from the invisible chains and very real armed guards of my former life in Chicago.
“Promise. I’ve gotta get ready for my shift, and you probably have to get back to enjoying the perks of being born with a penis into a patriarchal society, so I’ll let you go.”
He barked out a laugh. “It’s awfully boring around here without you pointing out our male privilege every five minutes.”
“Yeah, yeah. Give the girls my love.”
“I’ll do you one better. Next time I pop over, I’ll snap some pics and send them your way.”
“Thanks, Enzo.”
“You can thank me by keeping your nose clean, okay?”
“I’ll do my best.”
He grumbled something under his breath, but he hung up before I could make out exactly what it was.
My brother didn’t have to worry. It would be damn near impossible for me to get into trouble when all I did these days was wake up, go to work, then pass out.
And I didn’t see that routine changing anytime soon.