The Accardi Twins: A Mafia Romance Duet

Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One

Gia

J oshua will probably bust a nut when I show up at The Arena, the VIP club where the twins are hosting their twenty-seventh birthday party tonight, but I didn’t want to miss it. Hence why I ditched my bodyguard, again, and I’m currently in the back of a taxi enroute to the venue. I’m wearing my wig, and I traded my green contacts for brown ones. My thigh-high, body-hugging, glittery gold and silver dress and knee-high silver boots are a far cry from the tamer, sophisticated wardrobe I’m sporting as Emma Brown.

Tonight, I’m neither Emma nor Gia, and I don’t think it’s too risky to show up for a brief interval. I won’t stay long. I’ll have a quick drink, give them their gifts, and hopefully Joshua will let me apologize and give him a birthday kiss. I haven’t seen him since our hot make out session at Thanksgiving, and I’m suffering withdrawal symptoms.

Of course, I had to go and blow it by mentioning his ex. I shouldn’t have pushed so hard. I guess I’m just trying to find an explanation for it because it doesn’t make sense to me. Cruz DiPietro is a creep, and he’s old. Joshua was an amazing boyfriend. I was there. I saw it firsthand. He loved Bettina good, so why would any eighteen-year-old girl ditch her childhood sweetheart for a married man? It doesn’t add up, and for Joshua’s sake, I want there to be another reason.

But maybe there isn’t one.

And I probably need to let it drop.

The taxi pulls up to the curb. I pay the driver and climb out a tad awkwardly in my tight dress while carrying my two gifts.

I push my way through the crowd, heading toward the VIP section where the party is taking place.

“Name,” the guy at the door says, looking bored as he scans a list on his clipboard.

Shit. I hadn’t thought of this. I’m debating who to call when Cristian opens the door behind the bouncer. “Oh good, Cristian, vouch for me, yeah?”

His eyes widen as he steps in closer, inspecting my face. His lips twitch. “You’re playing with fire, G. This is reckless with a capital R.”

“I just wanted to stop by and say hi. I’ll be in and out before anyone sees me. Besides, it’s an opportunity to see my bestie. I miss her.”

“She isn’t here,” he says, grabbing the clipboard off the older man with the bushy ’stache and scribbling a name before adding a tick beside it.

“She must be.” I know she was upset, but it’s hardly the first time. There’s no way Elisa would miss Caleb’s birthday. She’s been on a countdown to tonight for weeks, and she finished his birthday painting months ago. It’s a tradition at this stage. Something that began when she was young and she started drawing and painting pictures for Caleb on his birthday. She does the same for her stepdad too. Alesso’s home office walls are decorated with every one of her pictures, and if it wasn’t obvious how proud he is of his daughter, that would seal the deal.

“Maybe she’s running late.” He shrugs before thrusting the clipboard at the man. “You can let her in.”

“As you wish, Don DiPietro.”

“You look hot,” he whispers in my ear. “I can’t decide if that will save your ass when our boy sees you or make it worse.”

“I’ll take my chances.” I kiss his cheek before slipping around him and climbing the stairs to the upper VIP level.

Reaching the top, I set Caleb’s gift down on the long table pushed against the wall just off the stairs. There is barely space to leave my gold-wrapped parcel because the table is swamped with a multitude of gifts.

Laughter and lively conversation compete with rhythmic beats as the DJ plays tunes for the large crowd jumping around the dance floor. The room is packed, and I spot several familiar faces. Thankfully, no one notices it’s me though I am garnering plenty of admiring glances. I edge my way around people as I scan the space for Joshua. All the blood drains from my face when I locate him at the end of the bar with Sorella fucking Caprese of all people.

She has him pushed up against the wall, and her body is flush against his. He’s holding a glass in one hand and his other hangs loose at his side as she roams his torso with her greedy talons. His lips lift in amusement at something she says, and I gulp over the lump in my throat. Pain stabs me in the chest when she leans in and kisses him.

And he lets her.

I contemplate stomping up to him and throwing my gift in his face, but I’ve got more class than to make a scene. Besides, it’s not like I have any claim on him. We made out and confessed to feelings. It’s not like we’re in a relationship or have made any commitment to one another. Clearly not if he’s still screwing his fuck buddies.

No, I’m not going to embarrass myself.

Fuck him.

That’s the last time I let him touch me.

I’m not going to become a sidepiece.

Tears prick my eyes as I spin around on my heel, bumping into people in my haste to get the fuck out of here. I debate taking the gift home and donating it to charity, but I had the onyx chessboard custom-made for him by a renowned company in Florence. I even had it engraved for the prick. I plonk the gift-wrapped box on the table and leave. Let him find it there and know I showed up. Let him realize I saw him with his date.

Pain rattles across my chest as I make my way outside the club. I hurry toward a taxi at the curb, currently depositing a couple on the sidewalk. Climbing into the back, I give my address and try to paper over the cracks in my heart.

Joshua doesn’t date. Everyone knows it. He never brings a date to his birthday parties, and though some of his supposed fuck buddies often attend, he never engages in PDAs with them. So why now? And why her? Does he know she took my brother’s virginity or that she blatantly flirts with all my boyfriends purely because Tommy Fusco dumped her to date me three years ago? Did Joshua pick her as his date on purpose as some form of payback for the things I said about his ex?

I stare sullenly out the window as we whizz by streets crowded with people enjoying their Saturday night. Removing my cell from my purse—to call Elisa—I remember I only brought my burner phone with me tonight in case Liam called. An incoming call lights up the screen as if my thought just summoned him.

Fuck my life. I’m in no mood to deal with that Irish prick.

Slamming my head back into the headrest, I wonder what I’ve done to deserve this shitty night. Working hard to compose myself, I pull my “Emma”’ persona on and answer his call. “Hey, babe.”

“My sweet, sexy Emma. Where are you?”

I’m tempted to lie and say I’m at home, but if he’s shown up at my place, I’ll be caught out in the lie. Better to stick to as much of the truth as I can. “I’m in a taxi on my way home.”

“Home from where?” Suspicion threads through his tone.

My heart thumps faster. “I stopped by a family party, but it was lame, so I left quickly.”

“I’m at the bar. Join me.” He hangs up before I’ve had time to say anything.

I curse him under my breath before relaying the change in destination to the driver.

I’ve been at the Irish bar twice in the past ten days. It’s owned by a friend of Liam’s who is clearly either Irish mafia or a trustworthy supporter. Liam has set up his interim base there, and it’s where they appear to conduct their business. The Commission was pleased I’ve been invited into the inner sanctum even if Liam hasn’t told me outright he’s part of a criminal enterprise. All he said was the men at the bar were business acquaintances and I was to keep my mouth shut about anything I saw or heard while there.

Not that I heard much. I was recording the entire time, but the men he hung around with were careful with their words. I managed to capture several of them on film, and we’re compiling an extensive dossier on the men who seem loyal to him. O’Hara is helping with identification.

“Pull over,” I say around the corner from the bar. “I’ll get out here.” I pay him in cash so there’s no trace and get out. I wait until he’s driven off before I ditch the wig and the brown contacts in the nearest trash can. I won’t risk carrying anything on me that might give the game away.

Ducking into an all-night diner to use the bathroom, I put in my green contacts, freshen my makeup, and spritz some perfume before pressing my earrings on. I’m supposed to message Joshua, but he can fuck right off. He’s probably too busy sucking face with that Caprese bitch to notice anyway. There is always someone listening, so if anything happens, they’ll report to him like the good little lapdogs they are.

When I walk toward the bar, an older guy with a bad combover and a pervy smile is waiting to take me inside to Liam. Wolf whistles and catcalls ring out as I walk through the crowded bar. Three older women sitting on stools at the bar send daggers in my direction. They seem to be the only other females here tonight.

Nerves fire at me as the perv opens a door to the basement and gestures for me to walk down the stairs. I feel his heated gaze on my ass as I descend the steps, willing the anxious feeling in my chest to die down.

All eyes swing my way when I reach the bottom. Smoke clouds cling to the low ceiling in the dimly lit space. My heels click off the concrete floor as I plaster a smile on my face and advance toward Liam. He’s seated around a large circular table playing cards, drinking, and smoking. Apart from a few crates stacked against one wall, the table and chairs are the only other items in the vast basement. Briefly, I wonder if this is where they torture their enemies.

It’s not a good thought to have when I’m surrounded by evil men.

Six assholes sit around the table with Liam, all of them fixing me with hungry eyes as I approach. I wonder if any of them are the men Diarmuid has watching over me or if any of the men upstairs are. These perverted pricks creep me the fuck out, and I’m struggling to maintain composure. Panic lays siege to my insides, and I can scarcely hear over the thrumming in my ears.

“What the fuck are you wearing?” Liam snaps, looking anything but pleased.

I’m tempted to sass him, but I’m not completely reckless. This is where I must play the docile submissive girlfriend. “I came straight from the party because I thought that’s what you wanted.”

His chair slams to the ground as he stands abruptly, gripping my chin painfully. “You’re my woman, and no woman of mine dresses for other men.” His eyes narrow over my shoulder. “Lower your eyes unless you want to fucking lose them,” he barks.

“Sorry, boss. We meant no disrespect.”

Liam’s gaze returns to mine. His fingers loosen their grip on my chin before he smashes his disgusting mouth upon mine. “I’ll let you make it up to me,” he says, instantly raising my heckles. “Get on your knees.”

Just when I think this night couldn’t get any worse, it does.

“What?” The tremble in my voice is not fabricated. Surely, he doesn’t mean what I think he means?

“You hard of hearing now, Em?” He shoves me roughly to my knees, and I bite the inside of my cheek to stifle a cry as pain shoots through me. “Suck my dick.”

I gulp as I look over my shoulder.

“Eyes on me,” he roars, grabbing the back of my head and squeezing.

“Liam, please,” I whisper. “Don’t make me do this in front of those men. Ask them to leave, and I’ll do it.”

I can’t swallow my cry this time as he backhands me without warning. Stinging pain skates across my cheek, and I’m torn between abject terror and furious rage. I consider biting his dick, but I think that’d earn me a bullet in the skull.

“I won’t ask you again.” He unzips his pants. “Prove you deserve a place at my side, Emma. Show these men who you belong to, and we’ll forget this little act of rebellion.”

It was only a fucking minidress, for fuck’s sake, I want to yell. But I value breathing.

“Come up here,” he says, smirking at his men. “Make sure you get a front-row seat.”