Chapter 13
Dominic
Islip away from the table after the cake has been cut, heading outside and around the back of the marquee.
Lil’ Peach is living her best life with the other kids on the dance floor, and seeing her so carefree and happy, busting a move like it’s nobody’s business, isn’t even enough to clear the fog in my head.
I know I can leave her unsupervised with these people, and she’d be safe. I was hesitant about entering this life, but I love the sense of family this group brings us both.
When Mrs B had a nasty fall last year and ended up in full-time care, I was forced to look for someone new to watch Peach, but I’ve yet to find anyone who isn’t terrified at the thought of working for me, or someone who meets my high standards.
Lucia De Luca, Romeo’s wife, has stepped in to fill the void temporarily, but she has her own baby to look after now, so she won’t be able to do it forever.
When I reach the food prep area, my eyes scan over the staff members in view, and I can’t see Emily anywhere. Where the fuck is she? My pulse kicks up a notch as I become slightly panicked.
Emily helped serve the first two courses, but I haven’t seen her since. She’s been avoiding me like the plague, despite my eyes following her every move. To my annoyance, she didn’t bother to look my way once.
I spot the chef from La Riviera inside the sleek industrial mobile kitchen.
I run my hand over my hair as I move in his direction.
Fuck, what’s his name again? I’m pretty sure it starts with an M, but I’m not about to guess and come off looking like a dick, especially since I’ve met him numerous times when I’ve dined with the Famiglia.
He usually comes out of the kitchen at the end of our meal to make sure Dante’s satisfied with the food and service. I’m pretty sure no one could fault his food; it’s top-notch. We eat like fucking kings when we’re there.
I climb the two metal stairs and stick my head inside the van. “Hey, mate,” I say, feeling like an idiot for even seeking her out, but my concern outweighs my pride. “I’m looking for Emily. Do you know where I can find her?”
I’m not even sure what I’m going to say when I find her, but I can’t leave things like this. The moment I saw that bruise under her eye, I had to restrain myself from getting in the car and driving to her house to finish that cunt off once and for all.
My gut tells me he’s the one responsible, but until I have confirmation he’s the one hurting her, I can’t do a thing. Nothing is going to save that fucker if I do, though, not even Emily.
“Dominic,” he says, wiping his hand on his apron as he comes towards the doorway and offers it to me. The fact he remembers my name makes me feel even worse. I’m good with faces, but names, not so much.
“Emily wasn’t feeling the best, so she left after the meal service.”
“Oh.”
“Have you got a minute to chat? Somewhere more private?” he asks.
“Sure.”
“Let’s go around back.”
I step down the two stairs and move aside, waiting for him to lead the way.
As I follow, my eyes wander over the view behind the property. It’s breathtaking out here. I’d love for Peach to have a place like this to grow up in one day. She loves coming here when Lucia’s looking after her.
He stops a few metres from the van, and I do the same, shoving my hands deep into my trouser pockets.
“I’m guessing you’ve noticed the marks on her,” he says. I nod, and that familiar anger stirs again. “I’m not sure what relationship you two have, but I see how she is with you at La Riviera. She doesn’t treat the other diners the way she does you.”
Why that warms something in me, I can’t say.
I pull one hand from my pocket and rub the back of my neck. “I only know her from the restaurant,” I admit. “But those marks make me livid. Do you know how she gets them? Is it that guy she’s living with?”
He gives me a strange look, probably wondering how I know so much when I’ve just admitted we’re basically strangers outside of the restaurant.
I can count on two hands how many times I’ve eaten there in the past three years, but there’s no way I’m going to admit that I stalk her.
“Yeah, I think so,” he says. “I don’t believe it’s a door as she claims. I’ve met the guy a few times, and he seemed friendly enough.
But I overheard a phone call she had with him a few months back.
He rang her at the restaurant, asking for money—money she said she didn’t have—and he completely lost it.
He was swearing, yelling, calling her the most derogatory names, and accusing her of hiding cash from him again. ”
A growl permeates in the back of my throat at the thought of her being disrespected like that, especially by someone who is supposed to love her.
“The disrespectful way he spoke to her …” He shakes his head in disgust as he speaks. “My wife would serve me my nuts for dinner if I ever dared talk to her that way. I think the man he portrays himself to be in public is very different to the one behind closed doors.”
“Why does she stay?” I ask, even though deep down I know it’s not that easy when you’re in a situation like that. I know my mother wanted better for herself and for us.
“I’ve tried to help her as much as I can, but she’s so closed off.
She’s not the sweet bundle of sunshine she was when she first started working at the restaurant.
She tries to be, but I see straight through it; underneath all those pretty smiles is a very unhappy woman.
She has no family here. Her mother lives in Queensland, and her father is somewhere overseas.
She only has the boyfriend, and I get the feeling he takes advantage of that.
Some of the other waitresses have invited her out with them, but she always makes up excuses as to why she can’t go.
It makes me wonder if she’d be allowed to, which is stupid, but nothing would surprise me. ”
My hands clench into fists at my sides as rage claws its way to the surface. As far as I’m concerned, that fucker just signed his death warrant.
I’m riding in the back seat of Romeo’s car. Dante’s in the passenger seat, and his brother, Alexander, is beside me.
None of us were supposed to stay over at the De Luca estate last night after the Christening, but to my irritation, it turned into a giant fucking sleepover.
Some of the men got into the sambuca after the rest of the guests left, but not me; I don’t drink. I had the perfect excuse to leave, but when Lil’ Peach gave me those damn puppy eyes, I caved like a house of cards.
Peach, of course, slept like an angel curled up against me, her little hand fisting my shirt the entire time, like she was afraid I’d get up and leave without her. I couldn’t even roll over, which only seemed to sour my mood further.
I’ve never slept in the same bed as her before, because I was terrified I’d squish her unknowingly, not even when she was teething or had a temperature. She’d either sleep on my chest on the recliner, or I’d camp out on her bedroom floor.
Now I’m crammed into Romeo’s Range Rover at eight in the morning, running on fumes. Why it takes four grown men to get breakfast supplies is beyond me.
I’m pulled from my thoughts when Dante turns in his seat and glances into the rear of the vehicle. “I got some intel on the waitress from La Riviera,” he says, and those words have me sitting up straighter in my seat.
Lucia, Dante, and I discussed her last night as we sat around in the kitchen. I just sat and listened, though, not giving much away.
The fact that I barely slept last night gave me way too much time to think about Emily and the things I’m going to do to her boyfriend when I get my hands on him.
“Yeah? What’d you find out?” I ask.
“You were right about the bikie. She’s shacking up with one of the Steel Reapers motherfuckers.”
“Do you know if it’s him? The one hurting her?”
Dante doesn’t answer right away. He stares out the front windshield, but I don’t miss the tic in his jaw.
“I asked one of the cops on our books to look into it,” he finally says.
“The guy she’s living with is the VP of the club, Michael Bucannon.
Goes by the name Muzzle. The bloke’s got a rap sheet as long as my arm.
Assault, weapons, intimidation, possession.
He went to juvie at the tender age of eleven for beating his stepmother with a baseball bat, so it’s not a stretch to make that assumption. ”
My mood darkens in an instant; it feels like something inside just snapped. That cunt has to go, sooner rather than later. I can’t risk something like that happening to her. What she’s been through already is enough, and I’m sure we don’t even know the half of it.
“I’ve got a home address,” he adds, pulling out a piece of paper and handing it to me. “If you decide to take matters into your own hands, make sure you run it past me first. I don’t want you doing anything that’s going to come back on the Famiglia without my knowledge.”
I lean forward in my seat, take the slip of paper, and sit back without saying a word. They don’t need to know I already have her address or that I’m mentally planning to end this once and for all.