Chapter 13
13
Layne
I don’t think I will ever be able to properly explain how unsettled I feel sitting next to Vitale Gambrillo, Boss of the Gambrillo Family and representative of the Don of the Cosa Nostra. Even with him, reclining on his bed, in a very expensive and exclusive private hospital, he still feels like a powder key ready to go off at any time. It’s overwhelming.
The fact that Valentine and Dante are related to him is written all over Vitale’s face. They share the same honey-dipped skin tone and similar bone structures, but everything about Vitale is overly sharp, so instead of being attractive, it’s brutish and intimidating. Despite all four men sharing genetics—even Matteo has some of Vitale’s features—it’s blatantly obvious Vitale has a favorite. Since the moment we walked into the room, Vitale has completely ignored Dante and Matteo. He has only acknowledged Valentine; he only speaks at him. The other two may as well not be in the room.
But Pack De Luca is clearly used to Vitale’s games. Dante makes a point of standing next to his twin the entire time, but he keeps his mouth shut, and his eyes stay staring at the wall in front of him. Matteo stands behind them both, which is really sad to see. It kind of breaks my heart, because while Vitale has no choice but to see Dante next to Valentine, Matteo is completely and brutally ignored.
Scent wise, Pack De Luca is the polar opposite of the stomach-churning stale garlic or morning-breath scent that wafts off Vitale. It has my survival instincts careening back to life.
Once upon a time, he would have been an unstoppable force of nature. Now he’s an old man, desperately hanging on to power, which is dangerous in itself.
Every time Vitale talks, the tension in the room rises faster than the temperature in summer. I’m glad I’m sitting down because the rapid-fire aggression and Vitale’s shows of dominance make it hard to breathe, let alone stand. The strange sense of safety I’ve felt since landing in the world of Pack De Luca is nothing but a vapid, fading memory, leaving me feeling like I’m treading water again.
Dante’s mood plummets when Vitale barks something in Italian, aimed at me. It’s pretty easy to decipher how little he thinks of me, but the way he keeps using his designation and influence so I can barely lift my head is unnecessarily cruel.
“Out,” Vitale barks, silencing Valentine’s argument.
I freeze under the weight of the bark. I’m not sure whether I’m supposed to curtsy or bow when I say goodbye. Then it dawns on me that I’ll do neither as I watch in horror as Pack De Luca clears the room until it is just me and Vitale. When they go, Vitale’s Alpha influence lessens but I’m still scared shitless.
He lies against the pillow, his heavy, slow breathing the only noise. I watch him from the corner of my eye while his hand shakes as he reaches for a glass of water.
A part of my genetic makeup swells with compassion for Vitale. I hate that I feel it because he doesn’t deserve anything from me. But that is the curse of being an Omega; sometimes our emotions override common sense, which is why being a part of a good pack is so important.
I keep my eyes downcast and sit as far away as I can from Vitale while I wait for him to say something. It doesn’t take long for him to break the silence with the brutal spite I have been expecting.
“So, you are a woman who opens her legs for powerful men, in hopes of becoming something of value to them, when all you are is another cunt to fuck.”
The compassion I was feeling for him dissolves, and my self-preservation kicks into gear and I get flooded by a wave of adrenaline. I’ve had a lot of experience with assholes in my life, and despite Vitale’s earlier Alpha assertion, I somehow manage to not only stand, but also walk to the door without a backward glance. I know my silence will be an obvious sign of my disrespect, it’s what I was aiming for.
“My grandson won’t be able to protect you forever.”
His parting comment is confirmation of my earlier assessment—that Vitale only views Valentine as worthy of being called family—but it is also a threat. Nothing surprising, and the small voice in my head reminds me that people kill people. Words don’t kill people.
Although, I leave him with something to think about too. I blame my stress for making me mouthy. “Your three grandsons have already told me they kill to protect.” And being as rude as he was, I don’t turn around to face him when I speak.
I pull the door quietly closed behind me, not quite believing what I just did. My hand refuses to let go of the door handle, and I have to take a couple of rounds of slow breathing to stop myself from passing out.
I think I just threatened the head of the Gambrillo Family, the Boss of the Italian Mafia, and I feel strangely okay about it.
“Did he threaten you?” Matteo asks, his voice dropping low, so I have to strain to hear his question. His soft vanilla scent grounds me and his attention is on me, but it jumps quickly to the men guarding the room, and I understand his silent warning that we are not amongst friends.
“Would it matter if he did?” I answer as quietly as he spoke.
My focus is on Matteo, hoping he can see that I am okay, hoping he doesn’t react badly, because by the feel in the hospital hallway, Vitale’s guards are looking for any excuse to erupt into violence.
The unexpected heavy press against my shoulder blades throws me straight back into Rocco nightmares, and I whimper, shoving blindly. But hands catch my struggle, and I spin, slamming face-first into a warm chest. I muffle my horror against his shirt until Valentine’s espresso scent chases the bad memories from my head, his soothing voice in my ear making noises again instead of words. When he feels me jolt back into myself, he laughs, the rumbling noise filling the corridor as he continues to shield me until I push out of his hold.
Valentine doesn’t let me go far, capturing my chin before he tilts my head back and nibbles my lips before pressing dozens of kisses up my cheek to my ear. “Never show your weakness in front of these people. The Gambrillos are the scum of our family tree. They should not be in the position they are. I will explain later.”
He grins as he steps back, but happiness doesn’t reach his eyes, and there is no tease in his voice, no mock or malice. Just concern. Without letting me go, he walks us past Vitale’s men.
“Why did you do this to me?” I whisper, returning his fake smile with one of my own, catching on quickly. This is part of the show we’re apparently all in on.
“Because Vitale decreed it law that married women in the family are off-limits. Same with your firstborn. Everyone else is fair game.”
I splutter out, “What?”
“He had to do something to stop the bloodshed. People kept killing each other to get ahead or trying to get Vitale’s attention.”
I shake my head, surprised but not shocked, considering even the more educated or even righteous in society can still revert to being wild animals in their quest to get ahead, sacrificing anyone and anything in their desperation.
“Plus, now you know that, if you survive the shit your own flesh and blood try, you can survive anything.” Valentine looks at me as he speaks, but I know his awareness stretches past the small bubble he makes me feel like I’m in.
“But we’re not married,” I say under my breath.
He starts to say something but squeezes my hand instead as we round the last corner in the hospital, the doors to freedom at the end of the corridor. First, though, it appears we’re about to run the gauntlet.
Both sides of the walls of the corridor are lined with Vitale’s guards. I intentionally take a step closer to Valentine, and he wraps my other hand around his wrist. I feel safer, but I still have this growing sense I’m nothing but a slab of meat about to be torn apart by Vitale’s rabid dogs.
We make it halfway down without anything happening, but then one of them spits at my feet and hisses, “ buchiach .” Obviously, the word is as disrespectful as him spitting at my feet, but I focus on Valentine’s coaching about not letting them see it upset me. Instead, I pick up the train of my dress and step over the mess before I slide under Valentine’s arm.
We take maybe two steps before a sweet cloud of Amaretto curls around me. I twist to watch without stopping, catching Dante moving as fast as a whip, grabbing the man who spat by the throat. Dante bounces the man’s face off his knee before he lets him drop to the floor.
“Baby, are you ready to go home?” Dante winks, talking over the sickening thud the man makes as his unconscious body hits the ground.
I’m ready to check into the asylum and never ask to leave.
The moment we step out the doors to the private hospital, it’s like everyone takes a collective breath. No one relaxes, but there is a sense of relief. Matteo moves in front of us, and guards I hadn’t noticed previously step out of shadows to swarm protectively around us.
It’s clear these guards are as loyal to Pack De Luca as Vitale’s guards are to him.
I cling to Valentine as we walk to the waiting line of Escalades. My head is a mess, but some pretty big things keep popping up on my radar.
Once we’re in the SUV and we merge into traffic, I turn to the three of them. “Your comment before, Valentine, about married women?”
“Yeah, Valentine, what did you mean?” Dante says, mimicking me in the way he speaks.
Then, in the very next moment, he relaxes against the plush leather seats, but only after pushing a large, formal-looking envelope onto my lap.
What is happening?