Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
ANDIE
Dinner at the Rossi table is one of pomp and circumstance. My father’s place is in the grandiose upholstered chair fit for a king at the head of the table, keeping a watchful eye on everyone. Keane takes the seat next to him, the one that used to belong to Kellan.
Keane regards me with an almost apologetic look before sitting. Jax plops down next to me and casually bumps my leg under the table. I can’t tell if it’s deliberate or not. Several of my father’s men stand against the wall or near the entryways. They won’t be eating with us. They are here to stand guard.
Since the attack on Kellan’s cabin, the house has been crawling with soldiers and made men. Which means, everything I do and every move I make will be monitored or noticed. The only upside to that is it will also help protect me from my father.
The booming voice of my great-uncle announces his arrival before the man himself walks in.
“Where is my little faro?” he says, and I can’t stop my smile.
Uncle Dom gave me that nickname when I was born. Faro means lighthouse in Italian. The fabled lighthouse of Alexandria in Egypt is considered to be one of the seven wonders of the ancient world. I say considered because there is no physical evidence or historical remains that prove it actually existed.
I stand up to meet my great-uncle’s outstretched arms. He’s a large man like my father, but completely bald. He has similar facial features to the British actor, Mark Strong. A straight, regal nose, thin eyebrows, and angled jaw. It’s been years since I last saw Uncle Domenico, because like the rest of the Rossi family, I was completely forgotten as soon as I left with my mother. I’m sure my father had a lot to do with that. It’s water under the bridge. Uncle Dom was always nice to me, and I really need some allies here. I’m already struggling with being in the same room as my father for more than three minutes.
“Hey, Uncle Dom,” I greet him kindly.
He engulfs me in a warm hug. He smells like Cuban cigars and peppermint. I relax in his embrace, enjoying whatever affection I can get. My cousin just dropped a major shock on me with her happy nuptial news, and I’m still reeling from that blow to the heart.
Rafe and Rita are getting married. I shouldn’t care. It shouldn’t make me feel anything. I told him that I hated him. But I would be lying. Because it does hurt. And I don’t hate him. Well, yeah, maybe I do. Especially now. I’m probably madder at myself than anything.
Apparently, Rafe doesn’t care that he’s engaged. He seems to be planting his dick in anyone within breathing distance. First, there was that blonde at the bar, and then what happened between us yesterday. It makes me sick to think that his fingers, which so easily took me to heaven in the pantry, his lips that kissed me like the world was ending, have also been in and on my cousin.
Speak of the cheating asshole, and he shall appear. Rafe arrives with Rita clinging to his side like a sandbur. She’s beaming up at him, her perfectly manicured nails clutching at his arm. But Rafe’s eyes are on me, not her. And I want to smack the shit out of him.
“We’ll find time to catch up later, faro,” Uncle tells me, giving me a kiss to my cheek before he joins my father at the head of the table. As fond as my uncle may or may not be of me, business always comes first.
He takes his seat to my father’s right, and they begin a hushed conversation with one another. Keane sits stoically in his chair, like the good second he is now. A role that used to belong to Kellan. A role that I am determined to take from him and use to destroy my father.
Rafe pulls Rita’s chair out for her, and of course, they choose the seats directly across from me.
“I was just telling Andie about our engagement,” Rita announces loudly.
A red flush rises up Rafe’s tanned neck, but he doesn’t reply to her comment as he takes his seat next to her.
A line of servers brings out trays of food laden with appetizers and gourmet salads. For some reason, the food doesn’t look half as appetizing as the breakfast Jax cooked the first day I was at Kellan’s cabin.
Instead of watching the train wreck that is Rafe and Rita, I glance around the dining room. Such wasted opulence. Antique furniture, priceless works of art encased in gold-leaf frames. Red silk wallpaper with gold inlay. No wonder gold is my least favorite color. It’s so cliché how my father flaunts his wealth and power for all to see. It proves the adage about how greed and power corrupt. How my sweet Nana could ever give birth to such an evil, egotistical despot is a fucking shame and a waste of a good egg and sperm.
One of the servers reaches for my wineglass, but I stay her hand.
“I’m fine with water. Thank you.”
“Yes, ma’am.” She fills Jax’s glass halfway with Masseto and leaves.
Lost in thought, I run my finger through the condensation on the outside of my glass. Rita’s overenthusiastic, high-pitched laughter brings me back to the present, the sound of her voice like needles pricking my skin. I know she’s doing it on purpose, trying to get my attention. I think she was expecting more of a reaction from me about hearing that she and Rafe had hooked up. Glad to disappoint her.
“So, when’s the big day?” I ask her, spearing a piece of cucumber from the salad that was placed in front of me, pretending it’s Rafe who I’m stabbing with the tongs of my fork.
“We haven’t set a date yet, but I’m thinking sometime around Christmas.”
Kill me now.
“Oh, well, I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
“Of course, if I’d known you were coming back, I would have asked you to be part of the bridal party. You could have carried my train.”
As digs go, that one is pretty good. But I can do better. As I chew, a small smile blossoms at the corners of my mouth.
“Hey, Rafe. What was it you said to me in the pantry last night?”
Rafe chokes on the wine he just sipped, and Jax nudges my knee under the table.
Rita cocks her head at Rafe. “You never mentioned that the assignment you went on involved her.”
“You know I can’t talk about it,” he reminds her.
Rita knows full well that we have no standing in this family other than to look pretty, spread our legs, and pop out a kid or five, preferably males. As women, we are not to ask questions and are to always look the other way. But I’m here to turn the tables on that bullshit. I wonder what my beautiful, never-lifted- a-finger-to-do-anything-in-her-life cousin would say if she knew about everything I have done to get here. I wonder what she would do if she found out what her fiancé has been up to behind her back. I take another bite of salad.
“Hey Rafe,” I say again, wagging a grape tomato at the end of my fork. “What was it you said about the cherry lollipop today? Something about how it tasted.”
Jax lets a snicker slip out, but he muffles it well.
“Fucking hell, Andie,” Rafe hisses, and my inner bitch does a cheer of triumph that I was able to irritate him.
Rita narrows her dark brown eyes at me, and I pop the tomato into my mouth.
“What is she talking about?” Rita asks him, giving me resting bitch face and not liking being out of the loop of whatever inside joke she thinks Rafe and I are sharing.
Staring at my ex, I lean slightly over the table, deciding to put an end to this verbal back and forth. “How do we compare?”
Rafe looks taken aback by the question. Jax literally kicks me under the table, but it doesn’t deter me one bit.
“If my cunt tastes like cherries, what does hers taste like? Days’ old dog shit?”
Rita jumps up from her chair, her face splotched with anger. “You’re a nasty bitch. No wonder Rafe left you.”
“ Andie. ” Jax kicks my shin again, but this time I kick him back.
“Yeah, well, apparently he still likes me enough to shove his tongue down my throat and his fingers up my pussy. Or is what happened last night an accident? Going to tell her you tripped and fell inside of me?” I ask him.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Andie! Stop!” Rafe shouts, slamming his hand down on the table.
“Everyone out!” My father’s commanding outburst extinguishes whatever glee I was feeling at messing with my ex and my vapid cousin.
Thankful I can escape this farce, I gladly get out of my chair. I’ll go to the kitchen and grab a couple of snacks and take them to the library. Losing myself in a book sounds good right about now.
“Sit down, Alexandria,” my father orders.
As much as it absolutely kills me, I don’t argue. I do what I’m told. I have to play the long game now. I have to pretend to be pliant and obedient.
Before Jax stands up to leave, he touches my knee briefly under the table, and I’m grateful for that one small comfort from a man whose heart is blacker than tar.
Rafe is more reluctant to depart, but after Rita tugs on his arm a few times, he tucks her hand through the bend of his elbow and escorts her out.
Now it’s just me, my father, Keane, Uncle Dom, and a few other men I don’t know. I keep my mouth shut and wait.
My father relaxes back into his chair, his fingers steepled under his chin. He still wears his wedding band on his ring finger and the gaudy, large ring with the family crest on the middle finger of his right hand.
Pretending the outburst between me and Rita didn’t just happen, my father comments, “It’s nice to see Rita so happy and in love. Rafael is more than a suitable match for her. Such a beautiful couple. Their babies will be magnificent. Don’t you agree, Domenico?”
Uncle nods his agreement. My father wants to hurt me. He’s not able to do it with his fists, so he’s using his words. He’s the reason Rafe left me. And now, he wants to throw Rafe’s engagement to Rita in my face. Well, fuck him.
Steeling my spine and meeting his glacial stare, I ask, “Was there a particular reason you wanted me to stay?”
“I have to go out of town on business. I’ll return in a few days. While I’m gone, you are not to leave this house. Do you understand?”
I almost choke on it, but I say it. “Yes.”
“While I’m gone, the house will be prepared for an upcoming dinner party.”
I silently groan. Joy.
“For what occasion?” I ask.
He sighs like I just asked the stupidest question in the world. “Not what. Whom. Julio Ortiz.”
Rafe’s father.
I don’t know why Julio has allowed Rafe to remain working for my father. It doesn’t make sense. Rafe used to tell me that Julio had always wanted him and his older brother, Alejandro, to rule by his side. Father and sons controlling the supply lines of heroin and other hard drugs along the southern border of the United States from Mexico. But Rafe walked away from it because of what happened to his mother. How ironic that he went from gang drugs to mafia thugs. In my opinion, the two are basically one and the same.
If Julio is coming, then Alejandro will be with him. From what I remember of past conversations with Rafe, Alejandro is his father’s righthand man in the organization and set to take over when his father steps down. I’ve never met his brother before and only know of him from what Rafe told me during those long nights when we would make love and then lie naked in each other’s arms and talk for hours. Rafe was five years younger than his older brother and was terrified of him. From the snippets I gathered from Rafe, Alejandro was a sadistic and cruel man. A perfect second to his father in the cartel.
I don’t feel good about this. Out of all the things my father could get this family involved in, why drug-running? Protection, trafficking, gambling, loan sharking—those are the things I’d always associated with the family business. Then again, I probably watch too many Netflix shows and re-runs of The Sopranos .
Families like ours have been forced to make alliances with outsiders in order to stay lucrative and relevant. It’s a modern problem. Too many gangs, motorcycle clubs, and other entities grabbing pieces of the power pie. It explains why my father is eager to join forces with the Ortiz Cartel now.
“Fine,” I answer.
My father slowly stands and walks over to me. Tipping my face up with a thick finger, he brushes along my temple with his thumb. His touch is cringe-worthy, and I feel like my insides are withering at his closeness.
“Such a pity to see those marks marring your beautiful face.”
Vomit percolates and threatens to rise from my stomach. My hand clenches around the butterknife on the table. I don’t care if I get gunned down by his men. I will kill him before I allow him to ever touch me or hurt me again.
“I’ve received worse by your hand,” I whisper.
The fingers that were gently caressing my face, grip my jaw in a painful vise.
Kill him. Do it. Do it now, Andie. Here’s your chance. Kellan’s voice rings loudly in my head.
“Max, we have business to finish discussing and food to eat. Come, sit back down. I’m sure Alexandria is tired after her ordeal and would like to get some rest,” Uncle Dom suggests. He may be my father’s underboss, but as his uncle, his word carries weight.
My father releases me, and I can’t stop the relief from showing as he walks back to his chair.
“Thank you, Uncle. I am tired.”
As I make my leave, I notice Keane in my side vision. He hasn’t moved or said a word the entire time. I meet his hazel gaze, just before I slip out of the room.