Chapter 20 #2
“Chiquita, we’re going on a luxury vacation the moment we’re free of this shit. Do you want beach, lake, mountains, or desert?”
He’s thinking about romantic getaways?
Not a bad distraction.
“You’d think growing up in a floating city would make me tired of being on and around the water, but I’ll always choose that over any other destination.
Beach is preferable, but I wouldn’t turn down a trip to Banff or Lake Como.
I’ll even take the Alps as long as it’s not winter. I don’t do snow. What do you like?”
“I prefer the beach. I will never choose the snow. I’m genetically disinclined to cold weather.”
I hear the humor in his tone, and it lightens the mood for a moment.
“Islands?”
“Sure. The Azores, Seychelles, South Pacific. Any of those works for me.”
“Mmm. I’ve never been to the Seychelles. I prefer warm water.”
Despite all the water around Venice, I wouldn’t get into any of it. It’s freezing and disgusting.
“Me too. Is a month too short?”
“A month?”
I barely get more than a few days’ vacation each year since I’m always on call. The idea of an entire month of lazing on a beach with my gorgeous boyfriend is enough to make me want to work out the knots immediately.
“Chica, are you picturing sex on the beach?”
“I wasn’t, but I am now.”
“I’m definitely picturing you at least topless.”
“Are you a sex addict? Do you think about anything else?”
“Now that I know you, yes. Yes, I am. It’s entirely your fault for being so hot.”
His tone is dead serious now. He means what he’s saying. He looks at me like the most gorgeous woman in the world—when he isn’t—wasn’t—thinking about how I’m—I was—trying to kill him. I much prefer that to his suspicion.
“Jandro, you know this isn’t a setup, right? Like, I didn’t arrange this to trap you.”
“I never thought you had. We’ve moved past that.”
“Thank you, Daddy.”
We’re still keeping our voices low, but I whisper that word extra softly.
I know he heard me though because I see the corner of his mouth turn up.
We fall silent while we’re both lost in thought.
At least, I am. Perhaps he’s resting, but I doubt it.
He’s never struck me as a man whose mind is at rest. To keep my mind from spiraling, I consider counting the minutes, but that’ll only drive me nuts.
At least another hour passes before we hear a door opening in the distance behind us.
Neither of us has turned our heads to look around that much.
High heels clack against the concrete floor followed by a man’s heavier tread.
My mind races to what woman would target me.
Who knows what previous sexual partners Alejandro has who’d go all Single White Female or Fatal Attraction on him.
I wait with bated breath.
If I weren’t bound to the chair, I’d fall off my seat.
“Zia Cosima?”
Alejandro’s head whips around to stare at me for a moment before shifting his focus back to the stunning woman before us. I’ve seen her baby photos. She came out gorgeous, so her name—beauty—has always fit. She’s my mother’s sister. I cannot for the life of me fathom why she’d be involved in this.
I mean, she’s cold-blooded as the day is long, but we’ve always been super close.
I don’t know why she’d target Alejandro, but if she has, and she hired someone to kill him, I wouldn’t put it past her to punish failure.
However, I can’t imagine her choosing torture or murder over me.
I can think of other ways to handle me for not completing the job.
“Caio, Vittoria. Hai un aspetto di merda.” Hello, Vittoria. You look like shit.
“Anche a me fa piacere vederti, zia.” Pleasure to see you too, Aunt.
I only look like shit because your goons attacked me.
That might be a bit confrontational.
I watch her wander over to Alejandro as though she hasn’t a care in the world. My claws are ready to unsheathe when she grips his chin and tries to turn his head from side to side.
Don’t motherfucking touch my man.
Years of training kick in as I control my reaction. I keep my heart rate from spiking, breathing even, and temper in check. I know she’s antagonizing me as much as she’s insulting Alejandro. I won’t take the bait—at least, I won’t let her see me take it.
Don’t lose your shit.
There must be a reason—even if it’s shitty—for what’s happening.
“You had a simple job to do, Vittoria.”
I guess we switched to English, so Alejandro can understand—more likely to taunt him.
“You hired me?”
“I’m aware of who hired you.”
“Papà?”
“No.”
“Don Piero?”
“No.”
Are we going to go through the list of Mala del Brenta men? This will take a while. Then again, it could’ve been anyone who hired me, but my zia brought Mala men. Her husband is a senior capo, but he’s the definition of pussy whipped.
When my zia says jump, he apologizes for not already hopping like a fucking bunny.
So, if she wanted to bring some of his men, he couldn’t stop her.
I doubt he’d even put up much of a fight.
He has far more of a backbone dealing with his don and consigliere.
My father doesn’t respect him, and neither do I. But I love my zia—or I did.
“Did Alejandro wrong a Mancinelli, so the Torettas told Don Piero, and you took it upon yourself to help the Mancinellis?”
“No, but good guess.”
“Did Alejandro do something to our family?” She knows I include the Carosis in that.
“Not directly.”
“Zia, are we going to go around and around?”
“Think a little harder, Nipote.” Niece.
My head still hurts to think much more than I already am. It’s ringing like Campanile di San Marco—the most famous bell tower in Venice.
“Zia, you know I feel like death warmed over right now. Your men drugged me and knocked me around.”
“You were never a biter as a child. You shouldn’t have started now.”
“You shouldn’t have kidnapped me. What is going on?”
There’s not an ounce of remorse or regret in her expression.
It’s not precisely glee, but she appears pleased that she’s making me jump through hoops.
I’m not her husband; I won’t play her games.
If Alejandro wants to question her, he can.
I opt for silence again as I feel around for any part of the rope and begin plucking.
I look straight ahead, but I still observe Alejandro from the corner of my eye.
He doesn’t appear perturbed in the least. Just the opposite. It’s like he’s watching family sitting around on Christmas morning. His shoulders are down, and his head’s slightly tilted to the left. He’s amused.
If I weren’t sure it was a ploy, I’d be annoyed.
“You know me, but I have no idea who you are beyond being Vittoria’s aunt.”
Not quite dismissive, but unimpressed. He’s striking at her vanity. He’d better watch out before she strikes out in irritation. She’s the one with claws. Her perfectly manicured nails could gouge a chunk of skin. I’ve seen how she peels oranges.
“Cosima Contarini.”
“It’s certainly a displeasure to meet you.”
I want to cringe, but my zia chuckles—like a James Bond villain.
Who the fuck is this woman? I don’t recognize her.
She’s a grade school teacher for fuck’s sake.
She teaches the equivalent of American third grade.
Kids are the only people she likes and the only ones who seem to like her.
Is she some secret operative more undercover than me?
Or is this something deeply personal that she’s taken upon herself?
I just can’t wrap my head around any of this.
“You’re nearly as charming as your uncle.”
“Which one? I’ve been told they’re both silver foxes.”
This time, her laugh is less sinister. Not what I’m used to, but it’s not freezing the blood in my veins.
“Either. Both.”
“Are you waiting for one of them to show up?”
“Hardly. They don’t know where you are.”
“Is this about me or your niece?”
His tone hardens when he mentions me. He can tolerate the threat to himself, but he won’t put up with anyone—let alone family—targeting me. It nearly makes me laugh to consider how protective he is of me considering I have a body count higher than most war veteran snipers.
It’s sweet.
“Both.”
“Because Vittoria hasn’t killed me or because we’re involved.”
“Fucking. That certainly hasn’t endeared her to her employer since she’s never crossed that line before. Her employer’s generally patient, but that ended.”
Alejandro probably has far more to say, but like me, he seems disinclined to play twenty questions. He turns his head just enough to look past her. I’m accustomed to long hours of silence as I scout and stake out my targets. His dossier told me he often does the same on missions in Latin America.
He’s his uncle’s fixer. Luis visits the prisons and handles the cartel and gang members who step out of line in their prison industry. Alejandro handles the more refined negotiations, but he rolls up his sleeves whenever needed.
My zia steps in front of me, attempting to force me to look at her.
I may as well have x-ray vision because I look nowhere but at her midsection.
She tsks as though I’m an obstinate child—which I absolutely was.
Drove my parents crazy. She was one of the few people who could negotiate me into compromises. It won’t work today.
“Vittoria, finish the job right now. I have a jet waiting to take us home.”
If she gives me a weapon, I’ll kill her before I do Alejandro.
That’s an unsettling realization, but it’s true.
I’ll pick him before my family. I never imagined this scenario.
Not just having a family member hold me captive but choosing someone who isn’t blood or our Mala del Brenta branch.
But I don’t have to think twice about where my loyalty lies now.
I shouldn’t feel this devoted to Alejandro so soon, but I do.
He’s become a part of me.
I need him like my next breath.
How the fuck did that happen?
It happened because you’ve never felt more comfortable with a man than you do with him. You’ve never felt so intuitively understood as you do when you’re with him.
He calls you Vita for the same reason. He said as much.
“Vittoria, your stubbornness will get you in as much trouble now as it did when you were a child.”
“Except I won’t concede anything. Let Alejandro go, and we stand a chance of not being enemies.”
“You’d pick this cazzo d’Orro over family?”
Golden prick. Basically, a man who marries a wealthy woman because he’s a good fuck.
“Family? That word means nothing since you did this to me. Betrayal works both ways. What do you think Mamà will say when she learns of this?”
“You assume she doesn’t know.”
“My mother sanctioned you having men accost me, assault me, drug me, and tie me up? Bullshit.”
“Do not swear at me.” Young lady.
I can practically hear what she doesn’t say.
“Fanculo.” Fuck off.
Alejandro chuckles. He may not speak Italian, but it doesn’t surprise me he can swear in the language.
I’m certain he heard plenty of curses from the Mancinellis since he grew up in the same neighborhood as them.
It’s the same one his cousins bought homes in.
His dossier included places I’d most likely find him.
A map showed me his parents’ home is only a few blocks from his cousins’.
The man I heard walking in with my zia finally steps into view. I wondered who loitered behind us, but I didn’t want to look away from her long enough to find out. At this point, I don’t trust her not to stab me the moment I shift my attention from her.
Holy motherfucker.
“Zorzi?” The Venetian form of Giorgio.
And my ex-boyfriend.
We dated from our last year of secondary school through most of college. I broke up with him when the AISE came calling. I couldn’t see how I’d maintain a romantic relationship with someone when I couldn’t tell anyone what my job truly entailed. I wasn’t the analyst I claimed to most people.
“Hello, Toria. Long time no see.”
Not fucking long enough.
“Why?”
“Why not?”
“Hiding from me and now hiding behind my zia. Your cock’s as small as I remember.”
“Cagna.” Bitch.
I shrug as best I can. He’s always been easy to antagonize.
At least with me he was. He’s Mala del Brenta too, so he’s patient with his prey.
But I could wind him up when I wanted. Our arguments were epic, but so was our making up.
At least, it seemed like it since I had no one to compare back then.
It was adolescent fumbling when I consider how things are with Alejandro.
“What do you want, Zorzi?”
“To kill you.”