Chapter Eight
Valentino
I stepped from the bathroom and into my bedroom in nothing but my birthday suit. Son of a bitch. Chantilly was asleep! I shook my head, my grimace almost becoming a grin. Had I expected her to be waiting naked for me and begging me to keep her alive if she freely gave me her body?
I sighed heavily. A part of me had expected that, anticipated it even. I’d bet nearly any other woman I might have brought here in her stead would have done everything in their power to distract me with pleasure, and supposedly bring me to my knees.
I fisted my hands. Love had never been on my agenda, in fact, I despised the idea. Love twisted the insides of people until they were no longer whole. Love made people weak and vulnerable. Love made people lose a part of their identity by conforming to someone else’s ideal.
So why did my heart squeeze a little as I stared at the woman I needed to delete from this world? She was so innocent while she slept, all her defenses down and her past eroded so that only purity remained.
A lump filled my throat. How had she gotten with the Irish don, Sean? Had she been looking for a better, more luxurious life? How soon had she realized her better life was actually the reverse? She wouldn’t have run away if she’d enjoyed the mobster lifestyle.
I climbed into bed, ignoring my unforgiving arousal as I pulled Chantilly snugly against me. I slowly exhaled. She was a perfect fit in my arms, her back against my front. That I absorbed her warmth until it was as if we were both as one was the last thought I had before a blanket of darkness swept over me.
I woke to shouting and screaming, to the fighting I knew would go on for hours, probably ending when my stepfather knocked my mom out…or worse. Their warfare had been escalating lately, their violence disturbing on a whole new level.
That I was only twelve meant I was no help. My stepdad was as likely to hit me as he would my mom. I shivered, wishing I was bigger, an adult. But my mother’s cries meant I couldn’t stay out of it this time. I had to do something…anything.
I swung my spindly legs out from my bedcovers, then crept to the door and opened it carefully. I was scared out of my mind. When my stepfather drank he couldn’t be controlled, he was a beast without remorse.
Walking to the end of the hallway, I looked around the edge of the wall. Shit. It was worse than I thought. My stepdad had a shotgun in one hand and a bottle of almost empty whiskey in the other. My mother’s face was already scraped and bruised, one of her eyes swollen half-shut and her dark, curly hair a tangled mess.
She’d always taken pride in her appearance, but my stepdad had all too quickly eroded away her personal care.
“You’ll do as you’re bloody told, bitch.” He dropped the bottle with a clunk onto the floor, then lifted the rifle to aim it at her as she leaned back onto the kitchen counter, as though trying to rebalance herself after his beating. “I should shoot you right now.”
I stepped into the room. “Leave her alone.”
He turned around, his face flushed. “What are you doing out of bed, boy?”
“I’m here to stop you hurting my mom.”
He laughed, his beer belly jiggling behind his whisky-stained T-shirt. “What you gonna do to stop me, eh?” He stepped closer to me. “Maybe I’ll shoot you instead?” He laughed, his voice deranged. “You choose boy, your life or hers?” At my silence, his voice lowered, menacing. “Choose.”
I hung my head. I’d always protect my mom. “Mine,” I said softly.
Crack.
I looked up as my stepdad crumpled to the floor, then stayed motionless, his shotgun sliding away from him. My mother stood above him with the discarded whiskey bottle in her hand. It’d been the perfect weapon to hit him across the head.
I ran to her and we clung to each other even as she repeated over and over, “I’m okay. I’m okay.” When she finally found the strength to step back and look at me, she asked, “Are you all right?”
I nodded, though I barely moved a muscle while coming out of fight mode, my legs shaky and my pulse thready. I looked down at my stepdad, hate oozing from my pores. “What about him?”
I couldn’t say his name, stepdad was the best he’d ever get from me.
My mom crouched beside him and checked for his pulse. “He’s alive.” Her face whitened. “He’s going to kill us.”
I shook my head. “No, he’s not.” I retrieved the shotgun, then aimed at his head.
My mother sucked in a heavy breath. “Valentino, what are you doing?”
I glanced up at her. “I’m protecting you, Mom.”
It wasn’t until I pulled the trigger that something broke inside of me—my innocence? Either way, I was never going to get it back. My life had changed from this point on and I’d never be the same again.
I’d never again allow anyone to hurt someone I loved.
Ignoring my mom’s blubbering sobs, I said, “We’ll have to get rid of the body and clean up. No one will suspect a thing. We’ll tell anyone who cares that he walked out on us and he never came back.”
She sniffled but nodded. “You’ve always been too bright for your age, mature beyond your years.” She pushed back her hair. “I’ll do whatever you say.” She swiped her eyes and looked at me with a tremulous smile. “I think it’s fair to say you’re no longer my little boy. You’ve just become the man of the house.”