27. Gemma
Chapter 27
Gemma
Ding dong.
Cannoli barked at the sound, and a smile lit up my face.
This was Sasha’s thing. On days he knew he was getting on a flight after practice, he would double back on his way out. Claimed he needed to see my face one more time before he left.
It didn’t matter that he’d only be gone overnight; I knew I would miss him, so the chance to kiss him one last time had excitement thrumming through my veins, and I raced toward the door.
Throwing it wide open, I teased, “Forget your keys, baby?”
But when I saw the man standing on the porch, my blood ran cold, and I stumbled back to put space between us—an instinct born from years of learning what a mistake it was to get within arm’s reach.
If I’d been looking for that other shoe to drop, I found it. It just rang my doorbell.
On some level, I’d always known my whereabouts wouldn’t remain a secret forever. This moment had been inevitable since the day I left Chicago.
Time’s up, Gemma.
I could barely hear my own voice over the buzzing in my ears. “Dad?”
The sneer on his face, as his eyes glittered with malicious intent, had me pulling my cardigan tighter to my chest, though the shiver that rolled down my spine had nothing to do with the January chill.
My father and his brother may have been identical twins, but the lives they led had altered their appearances enough that it was easy to tell them apart—even before only one of them remained alive.
Uncle Dominic favored double-breasted suits, giving off an old-school gangster vibe and commanding the authority that was his birthright. He was always well put together, never a single hair out of place. Dad, on the other hand, wore his once-black hair gone gray slicked back. The harsh lines on his weathered face were born from years of too much drinking, and his beer gut was showcased by the wife-beater stretched over it, tucked into trousers.
Their differences didn’t only extend to their looks. They were polar opposites when it came to temperament too.
Uncle Dom had been harsh but fair, earning the respect of not only his men but his sons. My father was often cruel, especially to the defiant daughter he’d always wished had been born a son.
I would give anything to have been born Dominic’s daughter instead of Dario’s. It might’ve spit me out into the same world, but my life would have been markedly different.
When I stood there mute—out of fear more than anything else—my father decided to speak first.
“Who knew opening your legs like a common street whore would be the thing that made you useful after all.”
His words were like a slap to the face, and I gasped, my hand rising to cup my cheek where I felt the phantom sting.
Stuffing both hands into his pockets, my father rocked back on his heels, a look of smug satisfaction on his face. “Daddy’s been looking for you for such a long time, Gemma. I’ve been so worried.” I fought the urge to vomit at his mocking tone. “So, imagine my surprise when I turn on my television at the end of the night to check on the final scores for the day, only to discover my sweet girl isn’t dead in a ditch somewhere or chained in a basement, cold and afraid, being held hostage by one of our enemies. No, she’s on national fucking television kissing goalies through plexiglass!”
His voice rose in volume, spitting those final words at me with so much venom that I flinched.
How could I have been so stupid? It was na?ve to think that declining to wear Sasha’s jersey to the game would be enough to have me blending into the crowd.
Then there was the small part at the back of my brain trying to rationalize that there had been factors out of my control. If Sasha hadn’t scored that goal, the game wouldn’t have made national highlight reels, and I might’ve continued to fly under the radar, escaping detection.
None of that mattered now.
I’d gotten a year. A year in which I’d learned some hard lessons about the pitfalls of trust but also the beauty that could be found in it. A year in which I’d found a man who loved me and put my well-being above all others.
I couldn’t find it within me to be sorry. Not when I knew how incredible it felt to bask in the sun that was Sasha’s love.
The warmth from that light would have to sustain me as I descended back into darkness.
“Here’s how this is going to work,” my father began. “You’re going to convince lover boy to take a few games off.”
“Wh-why would I do that?” I cursed my voice for breaking.
“Because you owe me for not killing you the minute you came out of your mother’s cunt without a penis,” he spat.
A sick smile stretched his lips when I grasped the doorframe to remain upright.
Honestly, it was no small miracle he hadn’t attempted to end my life over the past thirty-seven years. And I was ashamed to admit that there had been days—days when the suffering became simply too much to bear—when I wished he’d had the balls to do it.
“The Speed are practically a lock for a third straight championship.” His words grew distant as my vision swam. “That means the odds are in their favor most games, so my players have to bet big in order to get any kind of decent payout.”
The Bellini Mafia’s largest source of income was their underground casinos—which were actually kinda classy—but my father had always loved playing the role of the sleazy bookie. He enjoyed the loan shark side of it, where he took bets from people unable to afford them, so he could have the sick satisfaction of taking everything they owned—in some cases, that meant their life once he’d bled them dry of all material possessions.
“As luck would have it, my precious little gem of a daughter is fucking their star goalie. When he plays, they’re practically unstoppable. They’re heading out west in a few days and are expected to come home with a clean sweep of the teams they’re scheduled to play.
“I don’t care how you do it, but you’re going to find a way for his backup to end up in the net while they’re on that trip.”
I tried to work through exactly how he benefited from keeping Sasha from playing.
My father must’ve sensed my confusion because he laid it out for me in black and white. “The odds are shit for those California teams. Arizona’s too. Your dear old dad is gonna take all the money placed through me for the Speed to win, and put it on their opponents. I’m gonna turn those tens of thousands into millions in a single week like magic.” He snapped his fingers for emphasis.
Greed. That’s what this boiled down to. He wanted me to help him game the system so he could sit on an even taller mountain of cash.
Fuck that.
I straightened my spine, my resolve strengthening. He could do whatever he wanted to me, but I wouldn’t allow my father’s corruption to touch Sasha, to taint his innate goodness in any way.
With a confidence I didn’t feel on the inside, I kept my tone even. “I’ll come back to Chicago with you.”
My father barked out a laugh so harsh it grated on my raw nerves, setting me even further on edge. I clenched my hands into fists, letting the sharp bite of pain as my nails dug into my palms to center me, reminding me that talking back would only make this worse.
“This isn’t a negotiation. For once, you’re going to do as you’re told. Because I’m calling in a debt.”
That was the magic word, and he knew it.
Debts must always be paid.
How many times had I heard the motto uttered in reverence throughout my entire life? I’d lost count. But it was ironclad. No one was immune, not even family.
If you incurred a debt, you were required to find a way to pay.
Doubling down, he clarified, “You owe me debt on your life. This is how you settle up.”
I gaped at him, reality setting in that if I didn’t deliver, my life would be on the line.
With a smarmy grin, he rapped on the railing of the porch steps. “I know you’ll do the right thing.” Then he turned on his heel and walked away.
When he was finally out of sight, soul-crushing despair flooded my veins, and I collapsed in the open doorway, a shivering, shaking mess.
I would figure a way out of this. I had to.
Thirty-six hours later, I’d come to the conclusion that there was only one option. If my life was in danger, I needed to separate myself from Sasha.
It was the only way to keep him safe. I refused to let him get caught in the crossfire when this went sideways. Because all hell was going to break loose when I defaulted to my factory settings and defied my father.
I hadn’t slept since his visit, running over every possible scenario in my mind, looking for a way out, but there wasn’t one. My head was on the chopping block, and I’d made peace with my fate. At least I would die knowing Sasha’s soul would remain unblemished, having escaped the evil that was Dario Bellini.
Breaking his heart now would prevent it from being ripped out of his chest when I was murdered at the hands of my own father.
Sitting in the dark, my heart leapt into my throat when I heard the door unlock. Cannoli hadn’t left my side, sensing my distress, and he lifted his head from my lap when Sasha stepped inside the front door, locking it behind him.
He turned on the light, kicked off his shoes, and dropped his overnight bag. The whole time, I sat there silently, holding my breath, knowing the minute he saw me, the best thing that had ever happened to me would be over.
My nose tingled, and the burn of fresh tears threatened behind my eyes.
Don’t cry. Don’t you fucking dare.
That mental pep talk was no match for the moment when Sasha’s blue eyes flicked up to find me seated on the couch, and all my resolve crumbled in an instant.
“Gemma?” He stepped closer, his brows drawn down in concern.
Something inside me broke, and I realized that the idea of never seeing him again scared me more than anything my father might do to me.
“Baby, what’s wrong?”
My hand wasn’t quick enough to cover the sob that bubbled up from my chest.
Sasha closed the gap between us, nudging Cannoli to the side to pull me into his arms where he held me tight, whispering, “Let me calm your storm.”
And that’s when I lost it completely.