Chapter 5 #2
Mean Fists tugs his pants up and flashes his shredded ankles. “The heathen attacked me with her pink heels.”
Christian Louboutin. Cost a pretty penny on my father’s charge card, but worth every cent.
A second soldier holds up his hand. The imprint from my teeth is a work of art.
“She bit me.”
“You too?” Sebastiano demands, frowning furiously as he gestures toward the last soldier and the dime-sized gouge in his neck.
The man flushes.
“I warned you she’d fight you.”
My eyebrows raise. Because, until this moment, I thought I was so far off Sebastiano Beneventi’s radar, I was a ghost.
“I also said not a scratch.”
“Boss …”
“Not another goddamn word,” he snarls.
His soldiers snap their mouths shut. But now, unfortunately, I have their boss’s complete and undivided attention.
“You.”
I want to sink into the carpet but instead notch my chin higher.
“What do you have to say for yourself?”
“Congratulations on your wedding, Don Beneventi.”
Lord, he looks ready to wring my neck.
Vulnerability is a horrible word. Because it means you’re at the mercy of others.
I can’t help my smaller womanly frame, an easy target in a world where strength is measured by the weight of your fists or the blood on your hands.
I didn’t choose to be the daughter of the weakest capo in the Eleven, the man whispered about behind closed doors, pitied or mocked depending on the hour.
Everything that put me here was decided long before I had a say.
It wasn’t my plan to wander this man’s estate, pretending I was in control, pretending I wasn’t terrified.
I was sent to expose his weaknesses, but all I feel is my own.
Helplessness clings to me like a riptide, ready to pull me under.
I hate it. I hate that no matter how hard I try to stand tall, I still feel small, always a pawn in someone else’s game.
And yet here I am, under the gaze of the most dangerous crime boss, his eyes sharp with menace and something disturbingly close to curiosity.
He drags his fingers along his jaw, slow and deliberate, like he’s weighing something heavy in silence.
He’s going to kill me, isn’t he?
And it’ll take an act of God to save me.
Fat chance. You stole while inside His Divine Holiness’s house.
He prowls toward me, and I swallow hard. His next words echo loudly around the room and seal my fate. “Don’t think for one fucking second I don’t know what you’ve done.”
A loud commotion erupts outside the library, interrupting us.
My eyes widen in shock when the door crashes open.
And then, the most unreliable asshole on the planet bursts through.
RENZO
I come in swinging.
My father’s main man—the bastard who shoved a syringe into my arm and dragged me off to rehab hell—is my first target.
I knock him out with a single punch beneath the chin.
Two more rush me. I go for the burly one first, driving my knee into his balls before slamming my elbow into the second man’s gut.
He stumbles but keeps coming. I count to four, then headbutt him, shattering his nose.
“Oh my God,” Fina gasps.
Three down. One left.
The biggest motherfucker in the room—my father.
I tackle him to the carpet, land a few solid punches before he flips me onto my back, his arm crushing my throat.
His face hovers over mine, fury radiating off him in waves. “The last asshole who laid hands on me is buried beneath hole eight.” Jesus. I knew the golf course on our estate was a fucking gravesite.
“Why. Is. She. Bleeding?” My voice is sharp, measured.
He clocks me on the side of the head, stars bursting behind my eyes. “You dare use that tone with me?”
I snap my teeth at him like a rabid dog. His men shift closer, waiting. “Which one did it? Who dies today?”
My father scowls. “This is about her?” His arm disappears, and I drag air into my burning lungs. He stands, smooths his tuxedo, then touches a finger to his split lip, looking almost amused.
Doubt me now, motherfucker?
“Help him up.”
His man offers a hand. I ignore it, pushing myself up without assistance. My gaze darts to Fina—frozen, silent. Watching. “Who did it?” I demand.
“Jesus Christ. My man misunderstood an order and will be dealt with.”
“Yeah, he will.”
“He punched me.” Fina wiggles a finger at my father’s main man, who is slowly regaining consciousness.
I wind my foot up and ruthlessly kick him in the side, causing him to curl up like a little baby. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Fina’s smirk.
“Enough,” my father orders, glaring at me, then Fina. “I’ll ask again. Explain yourself.”
“I was just taking a walk.”
“Around my fucking golf course in high heels?” he snarls.
My eyes drop to her mud-caked pink heels. Proof that, yeah, that’s exactly what she’d been doing. Snooping. Again.
Surprise, surprise.
“You’ve had a busy day, at my expense.”
Oh shit. He knows about the money.
She holds her ground, not giving anything away. “I strive to make the most of my time.”
“And you’re wasting mine,” he snaps. “Why were you and your father walking the estate?”
“The air’s fresher than in Los Angeles.”
A flash of admiration crosses his features, though Fina wouldn’t recognize it. “Did you find what you were looking for?”
She shrugs.
“Cazzo. Accardo has his hands full.”
Pain flashes across her face, but she tries to hide it by wiping her bloody lip with the back of her hand. The thought of marrying some repulsive old man who smells like fish and probably ruts like a pig must scare the hell out of her.
I broke my promise.
I’m the biggest asshole alive.
My gaze falls on her pink cheeks and bruised lips.
She won’t even look at me.
Written me off, hasn’t she?
“Call the goddamn doctor. Have him check her out.” Then my father addresses a second guard. “Help her up.”
“Touch me,” Fina grinds out, “and you’ll get the same treatment as every other manhandling prick in my life.”
She gets an A-plus for bravery, though an F-minus for getting caught.
The guard steps forward, but I quickly position myself in-between them. Getting her out of this room and away from my father is the safest bet. “Hurt her, and I’ll chop off your fingers, then, one by one, shove them down your throat. Capisci?”
His eyes widen in alarm and surprise. Unlike my brother, it’s not every day I threaten my father’s men.
I relax when he nods.
He offers her a hand up, but she refuses it and stands on her own. Chin held high, she stalks toward the door, brushing by me like I’m invisible, like I’m a worthless piece of shit. The guard trails behind her.
“Find her father and question him,” my father orders the asshole who only now has shaken off the haze.
Fina stops in her tracks.
“You’ve got something to say now?”
Fuck. He played her, didn’t he? I stiffen. Does she understands the danger she’s in? The last person who stole from my father was violently dismembered.
“Matter of fact, yes.”
The room grows quiet. Jesus. Prolonged silences are his move.
“I’d like to offer you some friendly advice.”
“Advice?” He says it like the word doesn’t sit well on his tongue. If he were any other man, if she hadn’t stolen from him, I’d laugh.
As is, I half expect her to start reciting poetry, some twisted shit about violence, just to get under his skin.
She lets the silence stretch.
And in that moment, I know I’ll never underestimate her again.
In a flat voice, she strikes. “The drainage pipe beneath the fence near the ninth hole is an easy access point onto your property. Your electrified fence means nothing.”
The room turns to ice.
My father spins on his main man. “What motherfucking pipe?”
He stammers. “Last week, the landscapers upgraded the flooded midsection. I wasn’t aware—”
“Walk the perimeter. If she’s right, plug every goddamn hole, no matter how trivial. If my estate is this vulnerable again, Renzo will guarantee you regret it.”
Did I hear that right? Did he finally acknowledge my ability to handle shit? Did it have to come to this for him to notice, I mean—
“I highly advise against plugging the drainage pipe.”
Everyone gawks at her, except my father. He looks like he wants to strangle her.
“Why not?” I demand.
She snubs me, refusing to acknowledge me.
My father looks at me, then her. Wheels churning. Trying to make sense of the tension between us and the dynamics of a relationship he’s only beginning to recognize.
“Answer him.”
She sighs, like we should know her response. “Questioning my father will get you nowhere. But do you know what I’d do?”
“Go on,” my father says.
“Watch and wait. What better way to discover who the real enemy is?” She spins, then hooks her arm through the guard’s. “You can escort me back to the party.”
Her declaration dangles in the air like a surprise wedding gift.
“Leave us,” my father orders, and the other guards file out.
The door barely clicks shut before my father’s fist slams into my stomach.
Pain erupts through me.
“I’m capo di tutti capi. No one, not even blood, embarrasses me.”
There it is—the inevitable accusation. What happened in Rome months ago playing out all over again. Another chance to dig into my wounds with words sharp as blades.
“That would be fucking rich, wouldn’t it?” I pant, lifting my head. “Your greatest disappointment kicking your arrogant ass?”
He touches his lip again, like he still can’t believe I got one in. “If I have to lock you in the Beneventi dungeon to sober you up, so be it.”
I uncurl to stand. “That’s not what this is about.”
He studies me, realization dawning. “Are you fucking serious? You defied me for her?”
“You assaulted a woman.”
“A miscommunication. And she was trespassing.”
“Still, she did you a solid by warning you.”
His eyes darken. “You that gullible? What better way to escape marrying Accardo than by convincing me he’s an enemy?”
I repeat her warning, wondering if he’s right. “Wait and watch, and you’ll find out.”
“Accardo’s the top investor in my Chicago expansion. He has too much to lose if he targets me—we both do.”
“Why not Moretti?”
“Accardo has deeper pockets. Without him, I’ll lose Chicago.”
Well, shit. If I hope to talk him into somehow blocking the wedding … “Will you give me permission to marry her?” I calmly ask, but already know he won’t take me seriously—I mean, why would he?
His expression freezes. “Marry? Who?”
“Fina.”
A suffocating silence stretches out. Until he laughs. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. The pussy that good?”
Annoyed he believes every decision I make is driven by vice, I give him a taste of his own medicine. “Not as good as sweet Alessia—”
He slams me into the wall so hard it vibrates. “Not another word.”
I smirk, point made.
His eyes are like glass. “I need to keep Accardo fat and happy at the moment.”
“And not your son.”
He doesn’t so much as flinch.
“You’re the boss of bosses. Call it off.”
He jabs a finger at me, not liking taking orders. “You pulled the same shit with Alessia.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Stop playing hero to everyone but yourself.”
What the fuck? A hero complex? Me? Is that what he believes?
Pain bleeds into his expression. “You had ample fucking time to figure shit out. And what do you do?”
Rome. It’s always fucking Rome. “I didn’t freeze.”
“Freeze? You fucking died on me.”
Right, that. “A technicality …”
“They resuscitated you.”
I rub my fingers across my jaw. “I made a mistake.”
He shakes his head. “So did I by granting you your freedom.”
Ouch. “I’ll change.”
“Right.”
“Take on more responsibilities.”
“Right.”
We lock eyes. Yet I’m certain I’m the only one who sees me for me.
“This is my offer.” His eyes narrow, then he surprises me. “Go to Rome. Work with Dante Lucchese. Learn the business. Lay off the partying, women, and drugs. Prove yourself, and I’ll make you a made man.”
Despite everything—the overdose; his disappointment; assaulting him, my capo, my father, on his wedding day—he’s offering me what I’ve been waiting for: a second chance. He’s handing me everything on a silver platter as if I haven’t wasted years fucking around.
This time, I don’t hesitate.
“I’ll go to Rome.”
His eyes gleam with satisfaction.
“If you allow Fina to keep the money she stole, without consequences.”
He stares at me for a long time. Like he’s trying to read my fucking soul.
Good luck with that because it’s as black as a starless night.
Giving up, he jabs a finger into my chest. “Get your shit together and prove yourself. Be the man I need you to be. But leave that hellcat alone. No contact. No goddamn marriage. You let her figure out her own bullshit, or I’ll cut off your dick and feed it to you. Capisci?”
Do I understand?
Yes. Leave her be.
As for Accardo …
What happens next remains to be seen.