Chapter 17
17
AMARA
“I’m almost afraid to ask what you’re doing,” Rori remarks as she follows me into Lazaro’s bedroom. I’m on a mission, and since I ran into her on my way here, I’m recruiting her. “But I’m too intrigued, and no way can I pass that up when I can see how pissed you are. So how about you fill me in on your little plan?”
“I’m moving,” I tell her simply as I head into the walk-in closet.
She’s silent for a moment before she sighs. “What did he do to piss you off?”
“He’s being an overgrown controlling asshole who thinks he can order me around, and then try to make his point by kissing the shit out of me.” I search around the room until I find a largish gym bag, grabbing it and moving around the room to pick out the clothes that I’ll need for the next couple of days.
Days where I’ll be avoiding Lazaro completely. I’m not about to let him think he’s won. All that bullshit earlier was just that — bullshit.
“So what’s new? That’s pretty much every man in this place.” Rori chuckles.
“He forbade me from working on any man’s hair other than his,” I tell her bluntly, turning to face her after tossing some underwear in the bag. Which, by the way, look far more expensive than anyone should ever pay for scraps of fabric, if you ask me; no matter how soft and luxurious they feel.
Rori sighs. “Okay, yeah, I’m starting to see why you’re mad, but for argument’s sake, why did he stupidly say that?”
“Because he’s a controlling asshole, I already said that.” I wince, realizing that came out mean and rude. “Sorry. I’m just pissed, and I need to get the hell out of here before he gets back and tries to stop me.”
Rori waves that away. “No, I get it. And I’ll help you move whatever you want, but I need more information. What exactly did he say?”
“That he doesn’t like the idea of me leaning over other men, letting them get close to me. That he doesn’t trust them not to make a move on me. What he really means is he’s sure I’m going to throw myself at them, or act all flirty and seductive. That jackass. I should have known he’d do something like this. When I got in the car with Urso and him after the plane, Urso said something about wanting a haircut, and he freaked out then. I thought it was just a sibling thing and ignored it, but the man is obviously threatened by anyone else with a dick being around me. Which is insane, because he doesn’t own me. No matter how many times he tries to tell me I do.” I slam a few pairs of yoga pants and jeans into the bag, balling them up, uncaring how much they wrinkle.
“Hmm, yes, I can see how that would piss you off. I’d probably set Hades on him for saying that shit to me. But again, I feel like I need to play devil’s advocate here. Are you sure he’s not just jealous and being over the top? I mean, the guy is crazy about you. It stands to reason that he’ll be all growly and pissy about you possibly being close to other men and feeling an attraction to one of them. It’s human nature.”
I turn to look at her, and maybe it’s because I’m so pissed that I tell her the truth. “I have spent the last decade being called the town whore, because I got the pastor and his son locked up for raping and drugging me while I was a foster child in their care when I was sixteen. Everyone in town hated me, and they constantly treated me like I was going to try and seduce their men when they sat in my chair. Like I’d throw myself at them, so unable to control myself, sucking them off or fucking them right then and there. Just before all of this happened, I was accused of breaking up a marriage by sleeping with a married man, and his fifteen-year-old son. I’d done it before, right? According to them, everything that was proven in court was a lie. I was just a girl looking for attention.”
Rori’s face is furious when I finish. “They fucking said that to you?” she grits out between clenched teeth. “Those disgusting pieces of shit. You were a fucking child!”
“They didn’t see a child, they saw a scapegoat to place blame on instead of themselves, because they could never accept that they had a predator in their midst, especially not one they respected so much. One they trusted, who told them all I was a wicked child that the devil was using to spread his plagues, to get them all to turn away from God.” I laugh bitterly. “It didn’t matter that there was so much evidence, that the jury deliberated for less than ten minutes. He and his son were convicted, and they have lost every single appeal because it was so iron-clad. I was the girl no one wanted, and I shattered their perfect little town. Eventually I was moved to a group home.”
“I’d have set fire to the whole fucking town. You’re a far stronger and better person than me. Jesus Christ, that’s sick. How did you manage to stay there for so long and put up with that?”
“I didn’t have a choice. No money, no way out. I built my salon there so I could start saving money to move, but it was hard. They wanted to make it as hard as they could for me to succeed, and even though they probably wanted to run me out of town, they also liked having me around to torment or point the finger at when shit went sideways. Hell, they hated me more than the town drunk who liked to beat on his wife and kids, more than the man who tried to set fire to their precious church. Hell, they said I probably drove him to it. Didn’t matter that he had only just moved to town and I’d never laid eyes on him in my life. My evil got a hold of him.” I shake my head at the memory. Being out of it now, I’m starting to realize I should have left that town long ago.
“Okay, that’s some messed up shit and I’m glad you’re away from them I can also see why you’re pissed at Lazaro. He basically accused you the same way they did.” See, she gets it, why can’t he? “Maybe some space between you two is a good idea, but here’s a little food for thought. Lazaro isn’t used to having a woman that he’s wanted as much as you, I don’t think. He’s probably going about things the wrong way, but I think his heart is in the right place. His words, not so much.”
“He told me he wants to possess me, Rori. What kind of man says that?”
Rori’s lips stretch into a wicked smile. “The kind that’s utterly obsessed. And just so you know, there are a hell of a lot of women out there that would love a man to say that kind of thing to them.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not one of them. I’m my own person, I’ve worked hard to be that way, and no one, especially not a man, is going to control me and act like he owns me ever again.” I grab some shirts and sweaters and shove them into the bag too. All I need now are some shoes, but it’s already filled to the brim and probably won’t zip easily. I look around for another bag, but nothing pops out. Damn it.
“Of course not. I know all about people who love to control you, so that makes me an expert on this subject. Control and the possession he’s talking about aren’t the same, Amara.”
“Whose side are you on?” I demand, pissed. I thought I finally found someone who might understand, who might be on my side, but clearly, I’m wrong. Again.
She holds up her hands placatingly. “Amara, I will always be on your side, but I’m also not going to let you think things that I know aren’t true. Not because I’m on his side, but because I know them myself, okay? Now, listen to me.” She pours steel into her tone, and I can’t help but stop and give her my full attention. “I have been around men who control their women, and that is not what Lazaro is doing. It might seem that way, but it’s not. The control I’ve seen, is a woman not being allowed to step foot outside of her own home without her man beside her, to keep her from getting away or speaking to someone else. Keeping her confined to her home, but only certain rooms, because he doesn’t trust her to follow everything he says to the letter. Having the house so full of cameras that she can’t even take a shit without him knowing about it. She can only wear what he tells her, no make-up, not even to cover the bruises that he gives her. That, honey, is control. Lazaro is not doing any of that.”
“No,” I agree. “Maybe he’s not going to that extreme, but telling me who I can and can’t work on in my shop is trying to control me.”
She pauses, then slowly nods. “Alright, I get your point. Maybe I’m jaded by the stuff I see and think that other things aren’t as bad, so it can’t be the same. I’ll have to work on that. Let’s get your stuff. Where are we going? Did you find an open room? Or talk to Sofia?”
“Oh, ah no,” I admit. “I was just going to wander around until I found one.” Not the best plan, I can admit.
Rori chuckles. “Well, we’re going to have to fix that out or we might get ourselves in trouble, ending up somewhere we shouldn’t. How about we leave your stuff here for right now and we go ask Sofia where she thinks is best? You can walk off some of your anger, and we can make a plan. Because we both know that as soon as Lazaro figures out you’re not in this room with him anymore, he’ll be hunting for you high and low.”
“It’s a good thing I’m good at hiding.” I sniff. “But how do we lose my guard? He’s like a freaking shadow.”
Rori nods. “Yeah, that is a problem. But don’t worry, we’ll manage it. For now, let him follow, but we’ll watch what we say until we can get ourselves away. And just so you’re aware, Lazaro is going to be even more pissed that you slipped him, too.”
“I don’t understand why I need to have a guard in the first place. I mean, Lazaro made this big speech about me being here and being safe. How if I stayed in Arizona, or tried to leave and make it on my own, I’d end up dead or in the hands of my so-called family who want to sell me off like some kind of cow. Or is this him being controlling too?”
“No, that’s not it. All the women here have guards. Hell, they have guards even when things aren’t going to shit, from what I understand. That’s a thing in the mafia. There is always the worry that someone can sneak in or betray them and hurt their biggest weakness. It happened with Gia already, so Nico isn’t taking any chances. Which means Alessio and Lazaro won’t take chances with you or Sienna. Hell, even Alonzo has been my guard for the most part, but I always manage to get away from him. I think they figure I’m safe enough with just Hades, but I’m not an idiot. I know they have people watching me.”
“Someone got to Gia?” I ask, shocked.
Rori nods. “One of the men guarding her was a traitor, and he let in your father, your cousin, and one of the men that she was originally promised to who was there to take her and Sienna away. It was only a week and a half ago, so security and safety are heightened to make sure it never happens again.”
I stiffen. Wait, if that only happened a little over a week ago…
“So you’re telling me that Lazaro knew about this happening and still brought me back here? What he told me was a lie? I’m not actually safe, because there are people in this very house that might sell me out?”
Rori’s eyes widen ever so slightly, like she’s just clicked into what she’s revealed and that I clearly had no idea. “Ahhhh…”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” I mutter. “Just another thing that he’s tried to control; not telling me important information that I should know. Let’s add that to the ever-growing list of why Lazaro and I will never ever be anything more than acquaintances.”
“I swear to God, these men are going to be the end of me with how often I have to fix their fuckups,” she mutters. “Amara, he wasn’t here when all that happened, so no, he probably didn’t know when he was coming to find you.”
“Oh, but he knew the moment we got back on that plane, right? Don’t try and defend him now, Rori. A lie by omission is still a lie, especially when it concerns safety. I’m done with it all. I’m done with lies, secrets, control, you name it. Now, let’s go.” I pick up my bag, slinging it over my shoulder and walking out of the closet.
I barely emerge when I see the bedroom door open, and in walks a once more thunderous-looking Lazaro and an equally pissed off Alonzo. I stop and turn to glare at Rori. She shakes her head. “Wasn’t me.”
“It was Mario,” Lazaro bites out. “Alonzo.”
Alonzo wastes no time walking toward us. I stiffen, not sure what I’m going to do if he touches me, but his gaze never moves toward me once. It’s solely focused on Rori. “Don’t even think about it,” Rori warns him. On cue, Hades moves to her side, emitting a low growl. Alonzo barks a sharp word of command in what I assume is Italian, which has Hades stop growling, but not lower his guard. Rori glares furiously at Alonzo. “Oh, I don’t fucking think so,” she snarls, but before she can say anything else, Alonzo has his hand over her mouth and lifts her easily off the ground. Hades barks and runs after them, clearly unsure of what to do.
The moment they’re all clear of the door, Lazaro slams it shut behind them and locks it. The sound is loud, and a sense of trepidation fills me, but it’s not enough to override the fury. He makes his way toward me, his steps soft on the marble floor, but they’re like stomps in my mind.
The second he’s in front of me, I don’t hesitate. I punch him straight in the dick. You’d think he’d have learned from last time, but the man isn’t one for learning from his mistakes. This time, though, I give in to my intrusive thought and call, “Timber!” before I step aside and head for the door.
“Amara,” Lazaro barks, gasping for breath as I hear him struggle to get to his feet.
“I’m not talking to you, Lazaro.” I unlock the door and open it, but stop when I’m barricaded by Massimo and Urso, their arms crossed and amused looks on their faces. “Move,” I order them.
“Sorry, little sister, but we can’t do that,” Urso tells me with a charming smile. “Seems our brother fucked up, and we feel he needs to tell you that. Which means you’re staying put to listen.”
“Did we hear you say timber?” Massimo asks, laughing. Both of them look over my head into the room, and that’s my opening. I don’t even stop, I just ball my fist and send it flying. Urso lets out a pained, keening sound when it connects, but I don’t bother yelling timber this time. Instead, I move quickly away from Massimo, who whips back around, and keep on going. “What the fuck?” Massimo barks. “Did she just punch you in the dick?”
I don’t wait to see if they’re coming after me. I just keep on hurrying away. I want to be as far away from all of them as possible.
I make it to the end of the hallway before another large figure steps in front of me. I barely manage to keep myself from punching out again, but only because it’s Aurelio, with Pietro stepping beside him. Even as angry as I am, I know punching the Don or his main man is a bad idea. “What is going on?” Pietro asks, his hard eyes going over my head, and then widening.
“Amara and I are about to have a discussion,” Lazaro grits out as he comes up behind me.
“You and I have nothing more to talk about,” I snarl, turning and glaring at him furiously. A smug satisfaction fills me when I see how stiffly and carefully he’s walking. “And I swear, if you try to grab me again, I’m going to do worse than punch you in the balls.”
“Amara—”
“Enough,” Pietro barks. Everyone goes silent, and I slowly turn to look at the Don. “Lazaro, Amara, I see we have some things to sort out. Come into my room. Aurelio, you too, in case I need you to knock some sense into your son. You two, get back to work.”
“Fuck, I think she might have broken it,” I hear Urso moan morosely.
“Well, I’m not fucking checking it,” Massimo tells him. “I’m just glad she aimed for you and not me. Far too many women would weep with despair if mine got damaged.” I don’t hear what Urso says back, but Massimo laughs.
I want to argue, because I’m so done with talking, but Pietro simply turns and opens the first door at the end of the hallway, steps back, and gestures for me to enter. I walk stiffly inside, taking in the spacious room that looks even bigger than Lazaro’s. The bed is the same, though instead of just a sitting area, there is also a work space. Papers and things are strewn across the wide surface of the desk.
The door shuts, bringing me out of my thoughts, and I look at Pietro as he gives me a warm smile. “Don’t worry, cara , we’ll get this all straightened out,” he assures me, holding out his hand to me gallantly. I hesitate before I reach out to take it, and allow him to lead me over to the seating area. “Knowing my godson, I’d say that whatever the problem is, it’s his doing.” He gives Lazaro a pointed look before returning his attention to me. He gestures for me to take a seat on the sofa across from him, and though I hesitate, I set my bag on the ground and sit on the edge of the seat, ready to get up and leave at the first opportunity.
“Pietro, this is between Amara and I,” Lazaro says tightly as he moves further into the room to stand just beside the couch I’m sitting on. “We can sort it out ourselves.”
Pietro looks up at him and loses his smile. It’s fascinating to see the change in him. Warm and gentle one moment, dark and powerful in the blink of an eye. “Clearly not, if the woman is fleeing from you with a bag,” he tells him harshly. He says something else to him in Italian, and when I look at Lazaro, his shoulders tighten even further, and something akin to pain fills his eyes.
I don’t like it. I don’t know what Pietro has just told him, but I have this inexplicable urge to reach out to him and assure him everything is fine. To take some of that pain away. Lazaro doesn’t even glance at me as I study him, and a frown pulls at my mouth.
This feels wrong. This whole fucking thing feels wrong. I don’t want to be in here, and I don’t want Lazaro to be punished by his boss because of something I did. Pietro is probably angry that Lazaro is letting me get away, or thinks he’s hurting me or something. I don’t know, but this whole situation is a mess, and I have a decision to make.
Lazaro’s words from the dining room earlier come back to me. “I will be the one you reach for when you need assistance or comfort.” The roles are kind of being reversed right now, but I have the urge to give him that. Barring tonight’s whole event in the dining room, every other time, Lazaro has been there for me, ready to protect me at all costs. And right now, as much as he probably wants to do the same, he can’t. Not with his boss here, a man who could very well decide to end his life if he wants.
I might be making a huge mistake, but I force myself to turn back to Pietro, steel my spine, and tell him simply, “Lazaro’s right, we’ll figure this out amongst ourselves.”
Pietro doesn’t react other than to arch a brow as he regards me. I can feel the tension from Lazaro, but he says nothing. I chance looking over at Aurelio, and I force myself not to react when he gives me a sharp nod of approval. Alright, so at least I don’t have to worry about him. I turn back to Pietro, and he gives me a thoughtful look before glancing at Lazaro briefly and then back to me. “If you are sure, cara ,” he says slowly with a nod. Then he gets to his feet, as do I.
“I’m sure,” I say it firmly, then reach down to get the bag, and turn toward Lazaro. He doesn’t move immediately, staring at me with an unreadable expression. I hold his gaze, then reach out my hand to him. He instantly moves to take it, but then comes around to take the bag from my hand. We head for the door, but stop when Aurelio steps forward.
I tense, but Lazaro squeezes my hand reassuringly. “Well done, cara mia ,” he says softly as he reaches for the door. “It’ll be a joy to have you in the family.” He leans down to press a kiss to my cheek before stepping back and opening the door.
I look up at him in shock, but Lazaro gently tugs me out of the room, and I force myself to look away. Neither Lazaro nor I say anything, and I don’t even glance at Mario who is stationed just outside Lazaro’s room. Lazaro says something to him in Italian; Mario glances at me, nods, and then walks away. Lazaro leads me inside the bedroom and shuts the door behind us. He tosses the bag aside before he turns to me, and before I can say anything, he has me up in his arms with my back against the door, his face inches from mine.
My heart pounds in my chest as I stare into his eyes. I can’t quite get a read on what is shining out at me. Anger? Relief? Desperation? A mixture of all of them and whatever other emotions might be rolling around in there?
It’s another few seconds of tense silence before Lazaro speaks softly. “I’m sorry, Amara.” Nothing else. No excuses, no justifications, just three simple words, full of sincerity.
I give a small nod, watching him. I guess it’s my turn. “I’m s?—”
“No,” he interrupts swiftly. I snap my mouth closed and narrow my eyes. “You have nothing to apologize to me for, Amara,” he continues. “I’m the one acting like an idiot, not you. So, no, you won’t be apologizing to me.”
“But—”
“No.”
“Fine.” I huff. “Now, would you like to tell me why you have me up here? If you want to figure this out, this feels very unfair.”
“Air jail,” he replies with a smirk.
A short burst of laughter escapes me before I can stop it. Damn it, aren’t I supposed to be all stoic and shit? Then he goes and makes a joke. “Something tells me I’m going to regret telling you about that.”
“It’s handy for when I want your full attention, but yes, I want to figure this out, Amara.”
“Then put me down, and we’ll discuss this like adults. Not like you’re holding me in the air for time out.” He chuckles, but he eases back and carefully sets me on my feet. “Good. Now, just so we’re clear, I was going to apologize for the nut punch again, but since you won’t allow me to apologize to you, I’ll have to offer the sentiment to your brother.”
Lazaro’s eyes narrow, but he simply says, “We’ll talk about that soon enough, but he’s fine. It’s not the first time he’s been hit in the balls, and it won’t be the last. Especially being this close to Sofia. It’s her go-to move when she can’t get to a weapon fast enough.”
Yeah, that doesn’t surprise me, but still, I feel a bit guilty now that I’m not as angry. At least Pietro and Aurelio didn’t see me do it, or that’d be a whole other kind of discussion I probably couldn’t easily walk away from.
“I’m still apologizing to him.”
“Fine.” He moves away from me, unbuttoning his cuffs and rolling up his sleeves to the elbows, baring his forearms and all that ink. Momentarily distracted, I stare at him, before I see his quick grin of amusement and I force myself to look away. Damn it. “Why did you tell Pietro that you wanted to work it out between us?”
The question throws me, and I look up at him in surprise. That wasn’t what I thought he’d ask. “Because it felt wrong. Partly because he’s the Don and he doesn’t need to be bothered about this kind of thing, but also because…” I trail off, not sure how to accurately explain what I was feeling.
“Because?” Lazaro prompts, watching me.
I fight not to squirm. Come on, Amara, put on your big girl pants. Just spit it out.
“Because you told me that when I had issues, you wanted me to go to you, and have you fix them,” I finally blurt out. “And even though I don’t need you to fix my problems, because as far as I see it, there isn’t one, you’ve been the only constant in the last few days and this entire fucked-up situation. And damn it, Lazaro, you’re the only one that I want to trust right now. I’m surrounded by a bunch of people that I don’t know, the majority of whom are men, and family that I never knew I had until a few days ago. That means that whatever the issue is between us, we need to figure it the hell out because I don’t want to feel all alone here. I want someone in my corner for fucking once, and it has to be you because I don’t want anyone else. I just need you, Lazaro, and it scares the shit out of me.”
I stare at him, so many feelings swirling in my mind, but it’s true. It’s utterly terrifying, but I don’t want to take it back.