Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
E MERALD
I’m trying to get my mom to go to rehab. One of the girls I work with told me that I should be stronger and just walk away from my mom. But I don’t see encouraging her to go to rehab as me being weak.
Because I’m definitely not being weak when it comes to improving things for myself and the kids. I’m not still living with our mom, just hoping that she’ll get better by herself. Instead, I found a new place for us to live and am trying my damn hardest to make a decent life for us all.
And I want my mom to get better if she can, especially for the sake of Jaspar and Giulietta—although I’m not sure there’ll ever be a time when they’ll be able to go back and live with her again. And that’s totally okay because their home is with me for as long as they need me. I’m never going to let them down, and I’m going to make sure I’m always around for them.
* * *
It’s the funeral of an Imperiosi wife today. She was a family friend, but my mom isn’t able to make it, so I’m attending in her place.
We’re back at the family’s mansion now for refreshments, and everyone is outside, but I’ve got the start of a headache. I wince, rubbing my forehead, trying to massage away the ache. It doesn’t work, and I decide I need an Advil.
Weaving through the crowd of people until I reach the door that leads inside, I head straight for the kitchen. I sigh as I feel the cool of the interior. The sunshine outside is too bright, and I much prefer the dimmed lighting in here.
I move to the kitchen cabinets but can’t find what I’m looking for. With a sigh, I head upstairs to the bathroom. They are bound to have some Advil in there. Opening the cabinet above the basin, I spot the familiar white bottle with its bright label on the top shelf.
Stretching on my toes, I manage to grasp it and pull it down. Opening it, the cap resists for a moment, then pops with a satisfying click. I shake out two pills into my palm and grab a glass from the counter which I fill from the tap. I swallow the pills quickly, chasing them with a long drink of cool, soothing water.
I put the glass down and lean against the counter, closing my eyes for a moment. I take a few deep breaths, hoping the painkillers kick in soon.
When the ache starts to dull a little, I make my way downstairs. As I walk back through the deserted kitchen, I run into Calcedonio Cicconi. He’s an underboss, and I don't know him well, but I've seen him around the casino a lot.
"Well, well, well." He takes a couple of steps toward me. "Looks like we have a lost little lamb here."
“I’m not lost,” I say as I look away from him quickly.
He takes a swig from the beer bottle he holds in his hand. "It's not safe for a pretty girl like you to be here all alone."
I take a deep swallow and take a cautious step around him. I should be safe here, but drunk men can be volatile, so I know I have to tread carefully.
Calcedonio is much bigger than I am, standing at over six foot and stacked with muscle. My eyes are drawn to the scar across his temple that's like a signal for the danger that’s within him. I'm not sure what he's capable of—and I don't want to find out.
I just need to get back outside as quickly as I can without provoking him.
I step around him, keeping as much distance between us as possible.
But his hand shoots out and snatches my arm.
Disgust floods through me at his mere touch.
“What's the rush?" He’s too close to me, his huge hand clamped around my arm.
I try to leap away from him.
But he’s too quick for me. "I'm sure that your slut of a mother taught you better manners than to walk away when someone's talking to you."
My heart hammers in my chest as my gaze darts between him and the door that’s my escape route…
He yanks me closer to him. "There's something about fear that I love so much." His hand moves dangerously close to my breasts.
“Get away from me!” I jerk away from him and make a run for it.
"I'm so sick of you fucking whores playing hard to get," his angry voice growls from behind me. "You flirt and tease, and you think you can do whatever you want without consequences."
He grabs me and shoves me up against the wall.
"Why don’t you just pretend I’m Ronnie, huh? Or how about Saint? I’ve seen the way he looks at you. I can make you feel way better than he ever could.”
I hit him as hard as I can.
“I may not be as rich as some of them, but my dick is big and can give you just as good a ride. And gold diggers like you don’t care as long as there’s ten bucks in it for you at the end, right…?”
My blow against his chest barely affects him.
“I like it rough,” he snarls. “I won’t mind if you scream…”
He fists my locks in a tight grasp to keep me from moving.
His other hand takes his gun from his waistband and puts it on the counter with a thud before starting to unbuckle his belt.
"You know, your mom doesn't fight this hard.”
I might be able to reach the gun…
Because I’m not just taking this lying down. I’m fed up of men thinking it’s okay to treat me or even Milena like this because of my family’s reputation. I’m freaking determined to break this cycle, and I need to send a clear message.
“Be a fucking good slut and?—”
I snatch it and aim it toward him.
Pop !
“Fuck!" he screams.
He staggers back as the blood pours from his hand.
Saint comes running into the kitchen, followed by a couple of the other men. They must have heard the shot. His head flicking between Calcedonio and me, he tells the other guys he’ll handle it. “Leave! I’ve got this.”
Calcedonio takes another step toward me.
“Get away from her,” Saint hisses in a dark tone.
“Ah, come on now,” Calcedonio sneers. “We can share, right? I’m sure she won’t charge us double. Sluts like her love double penetration, right?”
“Get the fuck out. Right now. Before I end your miserable little life!” Saint bellows as he reaches for his gun.
Calcedonio’s gaze flickers as he realizes he’s skating on extremely thin ice now. “Stupid bitch,” he spits out between his pathetic whimpers as he grasps his bloody hand and hobbles back outside.
I put the gun back down.
“What happened?” Saint asks.
“It was, um, nothing.” I don’t want to admit what he said to me or tried to do. It’s just too humiliating. First Enzo and now Calcedonio. My dad taught me how to shoot a gun, and I’m so freaking thankful for that right now. I’m pretty good at it, and I practice my skills from time to time at the shooting range. When Anni Marchiano—Christian’s sister—is in town, we often go and practice together because she’s a good shot as well. Although, I don’t think her arranged husband was exactly thrilled when he discovered what she could do with a gun.
“You’re a bad liar, Emerald. You don’t shoot someone for no reason.”
I go to walk away. I know I’m hopeless at telling lies, but I just can’t talk about how Calcedonio thought I was a whore.
“Wait!” He catches my arm. “What’s wrong with your dress?” He skims his thumb over a rip on the sleeve of my dress, a shiver rippling through me as he touches my bare skin. “Did Calcedonio do this?”
I avert my gaze from him, hoping he won’t see the truth in my eyes. “No.” It’s totally embarrassing admitting that men see me as an easy target because of my family name.
He clenches his jaw.
“I took care of it and got away from him,” I say quickly.
“What exactly did he say to you?”
The silence beats between us, and I can tell he’s not going to leave it alone until he gets an answer from me. “He called me a whore.” I flick my hair over my shoulder, trying to appear strong, although I’m actually pretty shaken.
His eyes narrow. “And then the fucker put his filthy hands on you?”
I press my lips together and don’t answer, but the look on my face must give me away.
Before I can say anything else, he strides off.
I follow him. “You don’t need to say anything to him.” I speak quickly. “I’ve made sure he won’t ever try anything like that again on me…”
But as soon as we’re back outside, his eyes zero in on Calcedonio who’s clutching his injured hand and talking with his brother, anger evident on his face.
My gaze darts around, trying to find Christian, because I have a bad feeling that Saint is about to show his volatile side.
But Christian’s nowhere to be seen. Shit.
And without another word, Saint charges toward Calcedonio and punches him in the face. “Don’t you dare lay a hand on Emerald ever again!”
“I don’t know why you’re defending her,” Calcedonio splutters as he staggers backward. “So what if I tried to get in her panties? Emerald Fiorelli is nothing but a stupid slut just like her ma.”
Saint raises his gun. Pop! Pop!
But one of Calcedonio’s soldiers gets in the way and gets hit instead, falling back into the pool with a strangled sound and clutching at his neck.
Women start screaming. The men automatically reach for their weapons.
Calcedonio charges at Saint, but Saint punches him again and shoves him into the pool.
Calcedonio grabs him as he falls, pulling Saint into the pool with him with a huge splash.
Gasps and shrieks sound all around us. I’m rooted to the spot as I watch the men fight as they grapple with each other in the water, throwing punches wherever they can.
But Saint has the advantage. He’s not drunk, not injured, plus he’s a better fighter. And he quickly beats Calcedonio into submission. And then he pulls a knife out and stabs him.
There are more strangled screams from the women in the crowd. But all I can do is stand there open-mouthed at the scene in front of me.
Eventually, Saint hauls himself out of the pool, leaving the two lifeless forms in there. Blood is pouring out of them both, making the pool turn into a sea of red around them.
Saint straightens his soaking suit as he strides past me.
Christian comes sprinting out of the mansion with his gun drawn. “What the hell’s going on?” And seeing Saint dripping water everywhere as his expensive handmade shoes squelch with every step he takes, he glares at him. “You choose now to go for a fucking swim, Saint?”
Saint merely scowls back at his Capo.
Christian catches sight of the dead bodies in the pool. “For fuck’s sake, Saint, in case you’ve forgotten, this is supposed to be a fucking funeral!”