Chapter 20
"Did you take me away from him?"
"Yes. For you, and for me. Having someone almost kill us just once was enough for me. I had to get away after he left."
"Did he come back for us?"
"Just once.”
The conversation played on a loop in my head. The man that I had thought abandoned me, hadn't. I tried to picture what that was like for him, to have returned to a wife that no longer wanted him around. Not that he was innocent. And she was right, he was dangerous. More dangerous than she probably realized until it was almost too late. But I couldn't stop thinking about the what-ifs. The way life might have turned out if we had stayed one big happy family.
"What are you daydreaming about?" Cesare asked as he roamed over to me and puffed on his cigar.
I gave him an awkward grin. "Nothing."
He raised a brow. "You know, you really can't dress for shit. What's with the leather jacket? You look like you're trying to be some kind of tough guy. Have a little class."
I groaned. Cesare was either making progress with me or pissing me off. One rarely lasted long before the other side kicked in. He passed me the cigar, but I held up a hand. That thing tasted like shit. I did, however, take the cigarette he offered and lit that up instead. Once I blew out a cloud of smoke, I pushed my fingers through my hair.
The club was packed, bodies pressed against bodies as women danced on the stage in the center of the room. Even though they were clothed, it wasn't by much. There were more inside of cages. Some suspended in the air, others on little platforms. People stood around as they drank and laughed. It was like this was their normal. It definitely wasn't mine.
Seems like these fuckers have too much time and money on their hands.
"I heard how you worked with Jimmy today," my father said over the loud music. "You did well."
"Huh? Oh, yeah," I muttered, trying to keep up with the conversation. "It was nothing."
"Nothing? You took down three of their men before you even broke a sweat. Who taught you how to fight?"
Not you.
I didn't say it even though the words sat on my tongue, begging to be let out. I didn't hate him right now, but I still found it hard to talk to my father for more than a few minutes at a time. It was like he was reaching out too much, trying to get closer to me. I had no idea why. Honestly, I just wanted to be left alone. But he was giving me a place to stay, food to eat, clothes to wear. And I didn't want to piss him off because I'd seen what he could do when he was calm.
"You just kind of pick it up, you know? I got my ass jumped enough times to figure out how to take and throw a punch. After that"—I shrugged—"it was easy."
That was a lie, it hadn't been easy. I'd gotten beat up more times than I cared to think about when I was still in school. The difference was that I had learned how to take the hits, absorb the pain, and give it right back. If someone made me hurt, I hurt them more. If someone made me bleed, I made them wish they were dead. I had never been particularly violent just because though. Mostly, it was when someone pissed me off after I asked them to stop or if they messed with someone I cared about. Then I could get bad. I still wasn't used to a bunch of death, but it was the kind of world I had immersed myself in now.
There was no going back.
"Why are you so standoffish?" he asked after a moment of silence. "Missing that boyfriend of yours?"
I bristled and he burst out laughing. My jaw tightened, the motion so hard I felt like I was going to snap one or a few of my teeth. Instead, I clenched my hands tightly together and sucked in a lungful of acrid smoke. For some reason, Cesare loved to poke fun at me about Quincy. No matter how many times I said there was nothing between us, it was as if he couldn't let it go. Whether it was to tease me or just make me feel like shit, I didn't know. But it was starting to piss me off.
"Come on, don't be like that," he said when I went quiet. "Just trying to get in your head."
"Well, could you not?" I responded. "I don't get it, why do you always have to pick on someone? We can't just stand here, get drunk, and talk?"
He frowned. "Talk? About what?"
I waved a hand around. "Anything! Literally anything."
The emotion that came over his face was impossible to read. When he stayed quiet, I waved a hand and gave up. He would never be the kind of father that I wanted. The kind that had put me up on his shoulders or who chased me around the backyard. What the hell had happened to him?
"You called your mother."
My back stiffened. "How do you..."
"My house isn’t exactly soundproof. Doing that while the police are after you, is that a good idea? You know, if they catch you, they can have you sent back to stand trial, right?"
I glanced away from him. "Yeah."
"And you don't care?"
I stiffened. I knew what I was looking at, the kind of time I would have to serve if I was caught and sent back home. But some of it was starting to feel like... so what? At least I'd be back home where I belonged.
My thoughts immediately went to Gin, Paolo, Benito, and Enzo. They had been something like what I'd wanted. A family, brothers. But by now, they had to know where I was. They wouldn't want anything to do with me anymore, that much I was sure of. And could I blame them? No, not at all. I'd gone to my father. I knew how they felt about him. There was no way back to them.
Or Quincy.
Not that I wanted to be anywhere near him.
I wonder if he's okay? Those Russians were fucking with him. And his boss... What if he's...
The word dead rang in my ears and my guts twisted. I felt the wave of nausea break over me. Instead of letting it consume me, I snagged the glass that held my vodka in it and tossed it back. As it slid down my throat, I panted, trying to shake the feeling that had suddenly come over me. I choked on the vodka a bit and it stuck and stung. A heavy hand pounded against my back until I stopped coughing.
"You sure you're my kid? I've never seen a Vitale not be able to hold his own."
"Not a Vitale, remember?" I asked.
He frowned. "Maybe in name only, but you've still got my blood. So you are now and will always fucking be a Vitale. Do you get that?"
I stared at him, unsure of how much to believe. The way he spoke made it feel as if I had a home again. I had felt that way with Benito and the rest of the brothers too. Bit by bit, they accepted me. Except every time Quincy's words came rushing back, reminding me that I didn't know shit. How was I supposed to be sure that they even wanted me around? It was easy to fake that kind of shit, I'd been on the receiving end of hollow affection and friendship since I was a child. How was I supposed to be able to tell if they were any different?
"I guess."
He grabbed a fistful of my shirt and yanked me toward him. "Don't piss me off, Blake."
I stared at him. "No one ever lives long when they do that, huh?"
Cesare let go of me, and I laughed. Maybe taking that last shot was a bad idea. I leaned against the couch and reached for another.
"You don't know the first thing about me," he said.
I shrugged. "What's there to know? Listen, I'm not trying to make you father of the year or even make you like me anymore. If you wanted to be part of my life, you would have found a way."
He stormed toward me. "I did, you ungrateful brat. You think I didn't find your mother in three days? Did you really think she snuck away with you? I knew exactly where she was. And it took everything in me not to put a bullet in her head and steal you away."
My entire body tightened. I stared at him. "What the fuck did you say?"
"You heard me."
I swallowed hard. "So why didn't you?" I spat.
Cesare glared. His eyes darted around, but there was no one at our table, not now. The girls he'd had hanging all over him a minute ago were out on the dance floor, grinding on each other, probably trying to catch his eye for the night. I didn't swing that way, and I wasn't interested. He'd suggested I look at some of the guys then, but that did nothing for me either.
None of them would moan for me like Quincy did.
"Why didn't you?" I asked again.
"I didn't... hate your mother. And you ran out of that nasty apartment, clinging to her skirt. I knew you would be all fucked up in the head without her."
I stared at him while he continued to try not to make eye contact. Slowly, the wheels in my head started turning after another minute or two. I blinked at my father.
"What are you trying to say? You still loved her? Or you were worried about me?"
He wavered on his feet and I knew he'd had one too many as well. "Maybe both," he grumbled. "But love ain't real. I've told you that. Think about your money, your empire. Your legacy. That's all you'll have in the end when they're lowering you down in a box." When I stared at him, he waved a hand. "You're a miserable drunk, you know that?"
"Learned from the best."
"Watch it," Cesare growled. "I've got a lifetime of disciplining you can receive if you want to keep crossing the line."
I clamped my mouth shut before I simply nodded. He turned around on his heels, heading to the women who were way too young to be with him. They couldn't be anymore than twenty-five. I shook my head before I tried to contemplate what his words had meant.
Did he really give a fuck about my mom? About me? Yeah, it was years ago, but it felt like... it mattered. I didn't know why it mattered, but it did.
And I hated that.
I didn't want Cesare Vitale to matter to me. I didn't want anyone to matter to me. The more I kept people locked outside, the safer I was always going to be. No one could hurt me if they couldn't reach me in the first place.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I slipped it out, staring at the name on the screen. For half a second, I thought it would say Bottom, the name I had saved in my phone for Quincy. Instead, it said Benito. I stared at it for what felt like ages, my finger hovering above the answer key. I glanced up at where my father had his face buried in one of the women's necks before I hit answer.
"Yeah," I muttered.
"Blake, thank fuck!" Benito sounded out of breath. There was crying in the background. Emica. "Where are you?"
"Out," I answered. When there was silence, I sighed. "Some nightclub with Cesare."
"You're still with that asshole?" He groaned. "Listen, you don't have to stay there if you don't want to. I know you and Quincy got into some kind of fight..."
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Fine," he snapped. "But I do. We've been worried about you and you can't even pick up a goddamn phone!" Everything went silent for a moment before I heard him suck in a deep breath. "Your family needs you. I need you."
"What for?" I asked, my body still on edge.
"Harlow and Quincy took off at some point and I can't find them. I don't know where they are or what they're doing, but if I know my husband, it's something stupid. Or dangerous. Or both. Do you know where Quincy might have gone?"
My body stiffened. "Quincy is missing?" I swallowed thickly. “With Harlow?” My stomach tightened at the thought of them. Alone. Together.
"Yes."
I looked up at Cesare again. There was still so much I wanted to talk to him about, but he had up the same kind of wall I did. Getting through to him wasn't something that was going to happen overnight, if I even wanted to get to know him more at all. I swallowed hard.
"When? What happened?"
"Where are you? I'll come pick you up."
I hesitated. "Why?"
Benito stopped. "I don't understand."
"Why do you want to be around me? I basically betrayed you."
"Did you run your mouth about my business to our asshole father?"
"What? No," I said, shooting straight up. "Of course not!"
"Then what the fuck do I care? You have every right to get to know that the man's a bastard on your own terms. No one's judging you for that. I am judging you for not answering my calls though. Family doesn't do that.”
I shifted from one foot to the other. "I'm family?"
"Are you really this stupid? Just tell me where you are so I can come pick your ass up. Text it to me. Mother, Emica does not need ice. She needs food. No, she should not be worried about her figure. She's not even two!" He sighed. "I'm coming to get you. Now. Wait outside."
Benito hung up. I stared at the phone. For someone who wanted distance from Cesare, they sure acted alike sometimes. A hand gripped my shoulder. I glanced up.
"You taking off?" Cesare asked.
I bristled. "Yeah. That a problem?"
"Are you a man or not?" He snorted. "You don't need Daddy’s permission to live. Do what you want to do. Come back around when you're ready to really run this town."
I wasn't sure how I felt about that, so all I did was nod. He inclined his head before he turned around.
"Who's sucking my dick first?" he asked.
Their excited arms shooting into the air was more than enough for me. I took my exit, my brain full of thoughts of my... brothers.
And Quincy.
You better still be alive. I haven't punched you in the face enough yet.