Chapter 4 Contessa #2
“He took away their biggest contracts, spread false rumors about them. They lost all their clients, suppliers didn’t want to know, insurers wouldn’t go near them.
In the end, Bernadi took their premises and left them with nothing.
Fed’s mama has connections in California.
As far as I know, they moved out that way, but I don’t know if they stayed or moved on. ”
I have to take a breath to cut through the fury I feel at telling the story that changed not just Fed’s life but mine too. I’m no longer a virgin because of it, which makes me practically worthless in the community we now find ourselves at the heart of.
“Bernadi didn’t just take everything from them,” I say, the loathing in my voice undisguised. “He left them with the one thing an honest, hardworking man can’t shake: a reputation for pissing off New York’s biggest mafia family.”
A puff of air leaves Bambi’s lips as she flops back against her chair. “Wow. What an asshole.”
I arch a resigned brow and pick up my fork. “Yeah. Like I said.”
After a few minutes, she dips toward my ear. “Does he know you hate him?”
The question makes me pause. “I’ve no idea,” I shrug. “Why do you ask?”
“Because he can’t seem to stop looking at you.”
I growl under my breath. “He’s probably just wondering why I scowl at him all the time.”
She chuckles and spears her fork into a slice of mozzarella.
Not until my stomach is full do I turn a fraction to glance sidelong at my nemesis.
His face is angled towards Papa who is telling him a story that must be entertaining because there’s a smile on Bernadi’s face.
Then, as if he can sense I’m watching him, his eyes flick to mine.
My breath stills and the sound of my throbbing pulse floods my ears.
He nods along with Papa’s story but doesn’t remove his gaze from me, and the longer it lingers, the heavier I feel on my seat.
“Tess, you have a show coming up, I hear.”
Cristiano’s question snaps my attention his way and I breathe out, mentally shaking myself. “That’s right. In a few months.”
“She’s rehearsing constantly, but if you ask me, she’s perfect already,” Trilby says, shooting me a wink.
“Thanks but…” I jab my fork in her direction, “you’re biased.”
Cristiano laughs and Trilby’s eyes light up like the Vegas strip. “I am biased, yes. But I can also be objective.” She dabs the corner of her mouth with a napkin. “And, objectively, you are perfect already.”
“Yeah, well, try telling that to Antonio.”
Cristiano’s tone nosedives. “Who’s Antonio?”
I look at Trilby with a thread of alarm. She places a hand on Cristiano’s forearm. “No one you need to take care of, darling,” she says sweetly, and I half wonder if she’s being serious. “He’s Tess’s dance tutor. They have a kind of love-hate relationship. He sees her potential and works her hard.”
I turn back to Cristiano. “He thinks I’m unhinged,” I smile sweetly. “You can take care of him if you want.”
I glance sideways and Bernadi has his hands clasped, both forearms leaning on the table, his focus exclusively on our conversation.
My gaze drops to his shirt sleeves which have been rolled up revealing thick, corded arms heavily inked all over.
I catch what looks like an image of barbed wire curling around his wrists.
I swallow in surprise. I’ve only met Bernadi once—although ‘met’ isn’t perhaps the right word.
But, because I’ve unwittingly recalled that memory more times than I’d like to admit, I picture him as a walking suit.
So, I’m slightly shocked to see he has actual skin under there.
Actual inked skin. A shiver ghosts down my spine and I turn away quickly to catch my breath. Hatred sure works in funny ways.
Out of habit, I swipe open my phone and check through my social feeds.
I never post anything myself and I rarely take notice of anyone else’s feed to be honest. I hate to admit it to myself but I half-hope I see something from Fed.
I don’t know how I’d feel if I did see a post from him—it would only confirm I don’t mean anything to him—but I do want to know he’s okay.
Nothing appears in my feed. I check his accounts. Still nothing. My chest weakens so I make my excuses and return to the lounger by the pool.
I manage to avoid Bernadi for the rest of the evening, but when it’s time to head home, my aunt, Sera and I are confronted with the problem of getting my dead-to-the-world younger sister into the waiting car.
Usually, between us, we manage to carry her, and tonight I don’t see any reason why we can’t again.
Until Bernadi steps in like the rude, presumptuous asshole he is.
“I’ll carry her.”
He strides toward us, pushing his already rolled sleeves even further up his biceps. The urge to stare forces me to look away as I snap, “We would have managed just fine.”
He lifts Bambi like she’s a puff of air and turns slowly to rest his gaze on me. And now I can’t look away. It’s the same expression as the one I recall during those restless evenings lying alone in bed that I would never recount to another living soul.
Bronze eyes, heated gaze, unaffected.
Then he drags his gaze over me from the corners of my eyes to the painted nails of my toes and bites out, “You of all people shouldn’t be settling for ‘fine.’”
I’m too angry at his mere existence to decipher any meaning behind his words, but shamefully, they cause a ball of heat to bloom in my stomach before descending to a point between my legs.
I straighten my back and flatten my shoulders. There’s really only one thing for it. I need to stay as far away from this man as is humanly possible. Otherwise the only way out from beneath his dark stare is to murder him myself.