9. Roman
CHAPTER 9
ROMAN
T hat fucking bastard!
Frankie did this! He put me in the position where I need to hurt him by hurting his sister!
It was stupid to go after her in the park like that, to toy with her, and to torture myself !
Frankie Amante humiliated me, did the same thing to me that his old man did to mine! He challenged my ability to lead and pulled the rug right out from under me, making me look like a fucking incompetent idiot in front of the men whom I’m supposed to manage. Those are the men who need to respect me, the ones who need to fear me, dammit!
Now when they look at me all they’ll remember is how Frankie pulled one over on me, how he was able to infiltrate my kingdom, how I am responsible for him getting away with all of that coke.
I basically invited our enemies inside and let them ravage my fucking home!
And if Matteo hears about this before I have a chance to tell him…Jesus.
It’ll be a goddamn bloodbath because of our history with the Amantes.
I rub the back of my neck, walking over to my desk and sinking into the chair.
“What does he need to do, Roman? How can he fix this?”
Marchella’s voice ripples through me in a way that has me doubting my ability to restrain myself since every time she speaks, every time she parts her lips and stares at me intently with those soul-piercing eyes, the urge to fuck her senseless grabs hold — just like it did in the park.
Talk about a serious conflict of interest.
And I still need to figure out what the hell to do about Frankie.
I haven’t had much time to think since I’ve basically been running from one maiming to the next since I left the Grammercy Tap Room the night before. Doesn’t leave a whole lot of time for planning my next move.
And now that I have her here…now that my leverage is lying on a couch in my office, fearful that I’m about to end not only her life, but Frankie’s, all I can think about is burying my head between her legs and feasting on her soft pussy.
Which is exactly what I wanted to do from the second I knocked into her at the bar last night.
Fuck! I need to concentrate on more than just getting off right now!
I can’t keep avoiding her question. She’s rolled onto her side, her long ponytail snaking over her shoulder as she stares at me, an unspoken plea for mercy in her gaze. “He gets one shot,” I grunt, shoving back the chair and standing straight up. My mouth twists as I send the chair crashing into the desk.
“And what will you do with me in the meantime?” she asks. I can tell she’s trying to keep her voice even and strong, but I hear the waver she tries desperately to hide. And I get it. I’m a brutal killer and I shot her with a tranquilizer gun so I could kidnap her and possibly murder her.
If I were her, I’d be shitting a brick, too.
But there’s already been too much blood spilled. My family name can’t be stained with any more, not on my watch.
I need to assert my control in another way and Marchella is going to help me.
And her question ignites fierce flames of desire deep inside of me because while there are endless possibilities for what I’d like to do with her in the meantime, I can’t give into a single one of them. My priority is getting the organization back on track after that ambush, not obsessing about a hot piece of ass who just so happens to be lying on my couch in tight black Spandex.
My cell phone pings, and I pull it out of my pocket, peering at the screen. My eyes burn from lack of sleep and I blink fast to clear my vision.
Where the fuck are you?
Dante. That’s his way of expressing concern.
I send a reply. Still at the office. Don’t wait on me for dinner.
You work too hard. And you need to eat.
I roll my eyes. Food. There’s a luxury I can’t seem to squeeze into my day.
Order extra pizza. I’ll have some later.
In a few seconds, he sends a reply.
Okay. And bring home some Jack Daniel’s. You’re out.
Freaking lush drank me dry already?
I shove my phone back into my pocket. When I finally do get home tonight, there will definitely be a lot to explain to my brother. He comes to New York to escape his own slice of hell, and now I’m about to plunge him into a different one.
None of us could escape the shit show that choked us in Sicily, and my whole family still carries that hate for the Amante family even though we came out on top.
A strangled sob jolts me from my inner turmoil and I look over at the couch. Chella’s eyes are closed, but I can see a single tear slip down one flushed cheek. “I told him to find legitimate work, something that would keep him out of trouble. But he didn’t listen. He said he could make good money, that we would be taken care of.” Her eyes float open and she slowly sits up, gripping the arm of the couch for balance. A dejected expression shadows her face as she pins me with her rage-filled gaze. “That was always my plan. To take care of us, since my father gave up on that responsibility a long time ago.”
Jesus Christ, when did this turn into a therapy session? Do I look like a goddamn shrink?
But I remain silent, letting her continue her tirade since I need time to process all of this shit anyway.
“Mama was gone so everything fell on me. And that was fine!” she says, her voice shaking. “I didn’t mind because I had goals for myself and my life! I was going places!” She digs her fingertips into the leather, her knuckles turning white. “I had a plan, Roman. A fucking life and it was finally headed in the right direction! I worked goddamn hard for it, too. And then everything went up in smoke.”
“Wait, what about your mother?” I ask.
Chella’s face darkens. “She died six months ago. Cancer.”
I swallow hard. Fuck. “I didn’t know,” I mutter. “I’m sorry.”
“It devastated me. All of us. And everything unraveled like a cheap rug once she passed.” Chella moves to the edge of the couch, pushing herself off of it and rising to her feet on wobbly legs. “I’m so tired…of feeling…helpless and alone!” she rasps. “Tired of working…my ass off at some dead-end job, living paycheck to paycheck…to pay off our family’s debts and medical bills and not able to enjoy…a single fucking penny of my hard work!” She inches toward me, grabbing onto everything she can to keep her from crumbling onto the floor in front of me. “And just when I thought things couldn’t get worse, I get fucking sexually assaulted in the park by my childhood crush, and then kidnapped by him because my idiot brother can’t keep his hands to himself! Because he’s always looking for an easy way out, but there isn’t one! Not for us!” she screams, seeming to use every last bit of strength in her to force out those words. Her chest heaves harder with each labored breath as she sways into a chair. “Things were so perfect in Sicily. So much…hope. And then it went up in smoke. And you didn’t stop it…or me. I…hate…you!” Tears spring to her eyes once again as she takes her final step toward me. And just as she swings her fist out to hit me, her legs give out and she collapses against my chest, wilting in my arms like a dying flower.
For a split second, she’s quiet, save for the soft whimpers slipping from her mouth.
“I really hate you,” she mumbles with a sniffle. She tries to push away from me, but I keep my grip around her waist tight, knowing she’ll crumble to the floor if I let go. “I hate everything you stand for, the way you hurt innocent people, the way you try to make them fear you. You turned into your father. I saw it happen when you chose your family over me years ago. You never cared about me. You only cared about making your family happy. You’re evil and vicious, just like them, and you don’t give a damn about anything but money and power,” she says, the tears now streaming down her cheeks.
“I’m just trying to do my job, Chella. If people cross me, they get punished. That’s how this works. Your brother fucked me over, plain and simple, and now he needs to deal with the consequences. Our past doesn’t factor in. This is about me and Frankie. It has nothing to do with my family or what happened in Sicily.”
“He was desperate,” she says, her voice pleading. “He was just trying to do the right thing for us.”
“And in doing the right thing for you, he screwed me pretty damn hard. Caused a lot of problems for my organization that I need to fix. He created a huge goddamn mess, Chella. A big one. If he wants to keep you alive, he’s gonna have to figure out how to clean it up. Fast.”
Her puffy, red-rimmed eyes make my throat tighten and my resolve falters.
She doesn’t deserve this. She didn’t make the asshole decision to dick me over, Frankie did.
He’s the one who needs to suffer, not her.
And hearing her tell me that she hates me…that stings. Yeah, I let her go because what the hell choice did I have? Was I supposed to run off with her at eighteen and get cut off by my family?
Family always comes first.
Always.
I hated like hell to see her go, but I had no choice.
And I never stopped loving her either.
Clearly, she doesn’t carry the same torch for me.
As I stare down at her, overdosing on her raw beauty and vulnerability, I realize what I need to do…how I can make things right for everyone involved.
Frankie will pay, but so will I.