Chapter 3
Three
Emilia
T he drive home was a long one, and I can’t help but to admit that James was on my mind for the majority of it. For as long as I can remember, I have always hated James. I’m hardly the forgive and forget type of woman, especially when my ego is bruised.
Seven years ago, I had just turned eighteen. My mother and father were talking about their dynasty and how someday I would need to take it over from them. They were discussing my future, debating marrying me off to one of their connections in the upper part of the state or perhaps Matteo. My mother squashed the idea of Matteo, saying we were too much like siblings. My father, ever the businessman, suggested James next.
To say I was livid at the suggestion, would be an understatement. Not only was he twelve years older than me, but I barely knew him. Father told mother how James came from money and would be more than capable of taking care of me. James knew the business well enough. I could continue to run the illegal side of things, and James could still take care of all the legalities in and out of the courtroom.
What made me hate him, was what mother said next. “I agree with you, Robert. I should present the idea to him next time we see him.” My mother actually agreed with my father on this! While I knew it was my father’s suggestion, my mother was the one to nail my coffin shut.
It sealed my fate, and I have since spent every minute of my life hating him. He would be the stealer of my freedom and choice. My jailer in a loveless marriage.
It’s not what I envisioned for myself. I always imagined I would find someone outside of this life, someone with no connections to the Bonettis or any other ruling family in California. I would marry for love and have two or three kids running around the home while I cooked my famous enchiladas. It was a dream that I knew in that moment I would never have.
Ever since my parents brought up James as a potential suitor, he has asked me out for dinner every time we’ve met for one of his favors. It angers me every time because I know the only reason he’s asking is because my parents presented my hand in marriage to him. He must have said no, though, because I was never married off, and I never heard my parents speak about it again. That just made me even more mad, hence my bruised ego.
Did he not find me suitable enough for a wife? Did he not find me attractive? I’ve hated him ever since. I should be happy he didn’t find me suitable, but it just serves to piss me off even more.
Ay dios mio … I will never be rid of him in my mind.
Shaking myself out of my thoughts, we pull up to my parent’s house, secluded in the countryside, which seems a little busier than normal. There are cars parked all around the semicircular driveway and more guards than usual standing along the perimeter. It’s still pretty early in the morning, our night-drive taking us into daylight hours. I immediately start to worry about my father’s health. He has been on a slow decline for the past year due to an inoperable cancer that has attacked his colon and surrounding organs. The fact that he’s held on this long is a miracle. My mother has pretty much taken over the family business at this point, and now it’s just a matter of when he finally decides to let go.
Exchanging a look with Matteo, we all get out of the car. I throw the keys to Lorenzo, who has stopped to talk to one of the guards.
Matteo and I make our way up to the house in silence. There is a heaviness in the air, but for what, we don’t know. Pulling open the front door, I am greeted with numerous people milling about the grand entryway, everyone looking sinister and withdrawn.
“What did we miss, Matty? Did something happen while we were gone? Do you think it has to do with my father?!” I rattle off question after question, worry gnawing at my stomach.
“I don’t know, Em. Let’s go see your mother first.”
Perplexed, we both head up the staircase toward my parents en suite. Knocking on the door, we wait for an answer before proceeding into the room.
“ Emilia, la mia cara ragazza. Matteo, il mio bel ragazzo ,” says my mother, calling me her darling girl and Matteo her handsome boy.
We both take turns and greet her with a peck on the cheek and a hug.
“What is everyone doing here, Mother?” I ask, confusion written clearly on my face as my eyebrows pull together and my lips turn down.
“I have called everyone here for family business, Emilia. We are under attack and need to watch our backs.”
Confused as to what she means by that, I simply look at her, hoping she continues explaining.
“Someone left a severed head on your doorstep yesterday, Emilia. I will not take this threat lightly. No one threatens my little girl.”
My heart swells when she calls me her little girl, but I am instantly worried about the mention of a severed head on my doorstep.
“Why would anyone send me a severed head? As far as I know, I haven’t angered anyone or stepped outside of our territory.”
She fills me and Matteo in with what happened to one of the Romani sons. It all makes sense now. We killed a Romani son, and now they are out for blood. An eye for an eye, if you will.
Matteo clasps my shoulder. “We’ll protect you, cugina . No one is going to hurt you.” (Cousin.)
“ Maldita sea …” I mumble under my breath . (God dammit. ) This is not good.
“Whose head was it?” I ask, bracing myself for someone we knew.
“That we are not sure. It isn’t anyone that we recognized, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t one of our people. Regardless of who it is though, the message is clear. They will come after you , amore mia .” (My love.)
This whole eye for an eye thing is complete bullshit. The Romani family has been itching for an excuse to officially come after us, and our guy handed them the opportunity on a silver platter.
“I’d like to see them try…” is my only response to her before I turn on my heel. Matteo stays behind, talking to my mother about god knows what.
Going back down the stairs, my eyes narrow as I take in the guests filing into the room. Most I recognize, but there is some family I’ve never met before and therefore have no idea who they are. The situation has the hairs on the back of my neck standing at attention as a chill skates down my spine.
Turning down the hall, I make my way to the kitchen. Just before I swing the door open, I feel the cold barrel of a gun pressed into the exposed skin on my lower back. They would dare try something in my own family home? Faster than the guy could ever think possible, I swing around, knocking the gun from his grasp and bringing my blade up under his chin.
“Ah, ah, ah. I wouldn’t so much as move if I were you, amigo ,” I say, my intent clear in the way my blade knicks his skin. (Friend.)
“Who are you? Hmm?” When I don’t get a reply, I dig my knife into his skin a little harder, causing a bead of blood to run down his neck. “I said… who are you, and what do you want?”
“I came to deliver a message. That’s it, I swear, principessa ,” he replies, his voice shaky. (Princess.)
Contemplating how true that could be, I reach down and grab the gun before pushing the guy into the kitchen. He’s definitely Italian, and if I had to guess, probably someone running with the Romanis. He’s short, maybe five foot four, has a receding hairline, and the belly of a drunk. The fact that they even sent such an amateur is quite frankly insulting.
“So, tell me, idiota . What is this message you have to deliver so badly, and who’s it from?”
“I-it’s from the R-Romanis, principessa . Specifically from Anthony Romani, and it-it-it’s a message to you.”
“Ok, so I’m listening. Spit it out already, rápido .” ( Fast. )
“He said you’re now his, and he’ll come to collect you in one week’s time, Sunday, at the Romani-Bonetti boundary line. He said he would love for you to come willingly but that he loves a good fight in his women if you so choose.”
“And?” I say, expecting there to be more to this story. “Why the need to draw a gun on me?”
“He said I should shoot you to send a message that he’s serious. Not to kill you, but enough to weaken you and scare the family.”
Digging out my phone from my back pocket, I call Matteo and tell him to meet me in the kitchen and to bring Lorenzo.
Not even two minutes later they both come through the doors, both men drawing their weapons once they see me holding the guy at knife-point.
“Put this fucker in a cell and notify my mother. They can decide what to do with this little messenger after I leave.”
Matteo nods and looks like he wants to ask more, but I give him a shake of my head. “ Later .”
I am beyond annoyed at this development. Anthony Romani is the oldest of the five sons and set to take over the Romani territory when his father retires. He’s a cruel bastard. Rumors always circulate about his woman being battered and bruised before he moves on to the next easy fuck, or worse, completely disappearing. There’s a rumor that he strangles his whores to death and then dumps them in the ocean. There’s also a rumor that he runs a sex trafficking ring within California. Nothing has ever been confirmed, other than the fact he isn’t ever seen with the same woman twice.
They think they can just waltz into our territory without any repercussions… well they have another thing coming.
They’ll be lucky if they don’t start receiving this guy’s body back piece by piece.