Chapter 18
GIA
Dominic’s cell phone rang again. He’d left it in the study. I rushed back into the room and picked it up, reading the display before swiping to answer the call.
“Hello?”
Hesitation on the other end.
“Salvatore?” I asked.
“Who’s this?”
“Gia. Gia Castellano.”
Silence.
“Are you still there?”
“Where’s my brother, Gia?”
“He just left. He wouldn’t talk to me. I think he needs space to process what you just told him.”
“Yeah, I can see that. Where are you? No, don’t tell me.”
I heard a final boarding announcement in the background.
“Look, I don’t know you. I heard about your brother, though, and I’m sorry for your loss.”
I snorted. Didn’t people know it didn’t help to hear that?
“But my brother needs someone right now. He probably shouldn’t be alone, Gia. I don’t know your relationship—”
“He’ll be back.”
“You sound confident of that.”
“I am. And I’ll be here when he is.”
“If you can, try to get him to come to the house. The funeral will be tomorrow afternoon. It’s probably good for him to say good-bye.”
“I don’t know that he’s ready for that. I don’t know the whole story, but from what I’ve seen, he’s been running from this for seven years.”
“I know. That’s Dominic. Predictable. He’ll always take the most extreme route.”
It irritated me that he called Dominic predictable, but then, in the way Salvatore said it, I had to agree. My mind moved to something else. “Will the Scava’s be at the funeral?”
There was a pause. “I assume Angus Scava will be.”
A woman’s voice came through, telling him they would be closing the doors if he didn’t board immediately.
“Why?” he asked.
“You have to go. I’ll talk to him. I’ll make him come.”
I disconnected before he could ask again.
I had a feeling he knew at least a little bit about me.
I paced the study, thinking, planning. The auction would take place tomorrow.
But now, with the funeral on the same day, it changed things.
I didn’t know Dominic’s plan about the auction, but the funeral opened up another door, another way in. Maybe a smarter way.
I went upstairs to Lucia’s closet and found an overnight bag and began to pack.
I found a black dress. I’d look stunning in it.
It would be perfect for the funeral. And for showing Victor Scava he’d failed.
That he’d now pay. Tomorrow may be Franco Benedetti’s funeral, but it was my coming-out party.
I didn’t care about Benedetti. No, check that.
I cared that the news held so much power over Dominic, considering their history.
I knew now he’d truly done nothing but run, nothing but dig himself deeper into this black hole over the last seven years.
A hole he would not be able to climb out of, not on his own.
I saw it in his eyes, read it in his reaction.
It was the same thing that I’d seen while he’d held me at the cabin.
That hint of the humanity, the vulnerability behind all the hate and rage.
Dominic Benedetti may be a monster, but he was a monster with a bleeding heart.
That heart was in no way made of gold. It was more barbed wire and steel and sharp, deadly edges.
And those were the things that drew me.
Maybe it was because he wasn’t the only monster in this strange thing happening between us. Maybe we had both truly met our match.
Love wasn’t always beautiful. It wasn’t always kind or sweet. Love could be a twisted, ugly bitch. I’d always known this was the kind of love I’d find. The only kind that could touch me. Because some of us, we belonged in the dark, and Dominic and I belonged in the dark.
After I finished packing my bag, I went into Dominic’s room and found his duffel.
He hadn’t unpacked it since arriving. I emptied it to see its contents.
Two pair of jeans, a couple of shirts, that was it.
That and a small, worn-out envelope that fell out from the pocket of one of the jeans.
I picked it up off the floor and opened it.
I pulled out a worn photo of a little girl wearing a hot-pink cast on her arm and beaming into the camera.
Dirt smeared on her face and wisps of hair stood wild, defiant, unwilling to be contained by her ponytail. She looked to be about nine years old.
I had to smile back at the little girl with creases across her face from the much handled photograph.
Effie. I would have recognized her to be related to Dominic even if I didn’t know about her.
It was her dimple in exactly the same place as Dominic’s.
But more so, her eyes betrayed her heritage.
The color, the shape, the shrewd cockiness inside them. It was all Dominic.
How could he stay away from her? If I had a child, could I stay away from her?
Walk out of her life? He loved her. I knew it from the way he talked about her.
But it was his punishment, his self-flagellation.
And it made perfect sense. Dominic hated himself for what he’d done.
Hated himself for who he was, and more importantly, who he was not.
I tucked the photograph back into its envelope and went into the closet to find him a suit. I figured Salvatore’s clothes were likely still there like Lucia’s had been, and I was right. I wondered why he’d left in such a hurry. I’d have to ask him.
I realized he’d asked me where we were. He didn’t know we were at his house?
Well, Dominic had said it was his house now.
I wanted to meet Salvatore, wanted to see the dynamic within the family.
I wondered if Salvatore would recognize the suit I chose for Dominic.
I grabbed Dominic’s toiletries, finished packing his bag, and went downstairs to wait for him to return, knowing what I’d do while he was gone.
He’d left his laptop in the study, and the little flash drive I recognized as the one he’d used to copy Mateo’s file stuck out of one of the ports. I sat behind the desk and listened, steeling myself, telling myself it would be over soon. That I’d have my revenge soon.
Darkness had fallen when a car door slamming shut startled me awake. I lifted my head up off the desk and looked around, confused for a moment before remembering. I looked at the time on Dominic’s phone. A little after two in the morning.
I ejected the flash drive from the computer and tucked it into my pocket then walked out into the foyer. Dominic stood just inside the door, his eyes looking as though he were a million miles away.
“Hey. You okay?” I asked.
“Why are you still up?”
“I was waiting for you. Thought you might need someone.”
He seemed confused by my answer.
Shadows darkened his eyes, and his hair looked as though he’d been running his hands through it for the last few hours. “You don’t look so good.”
“What are those?”
His gaze fell on the bags I’d packed and set at the bottom of the stairs.
“I figured we’d need clothes for the funeral.” I stood anxiously awaiting his response.
He studied me. “You can’t go.”
“You can’t stop me.”
“Scava will be there. Not to mention others who may be involved.”
“I’m not hiding. I already told you that. I’m going to use this as my debut.”
“A funeral for a debut.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “You are one twisted girl.”
“What difference does it make anyway? He’s going to find out day after tomorrow we’re MIA when I don’t turn up at the auction. What better place to confront him than publicly within his own community?”
“There’s more, Gia. More players. These are very dangerous men you’re talking about.”
“Ever hear of David and Goliath?”
“What are you going to do, take Victor Scava out with a slingshot?”
“Don’t laugh at me. It’s not always the biggest and the baddest who wins. I’m going to win this round, and I’m going to win this war.”
“I said no.” He turned to walk toward the kitchen.
I chased after him. “You don’t get to decide for me. Not anymore.”
“No, Gia. N. O.”
We walked into the kitchen, and I tugged his arm back, forcing him to stop. “You don’t get to tell me no. Not this time.” Anger fueled me. I would not stay back. No fucking way. “You know you owe me this. I have a right, Dominic.”
“You have every fucking right, but you’re going to get yourself killed. Let me go. I’m tired, and I’m hungry.”
“Well, there’s no food in this house that isn’t seven years old! Turn around and talk to me.” He freed his arm and opened the pantry door. “Look at me, damn it!”
“You don’t understand how these men work. The ruthlessness with which they kill.”
He kept his back to me, like he couldn’t care less.
Well, I’d make him care. “Like you, you mean?” I said, stepping backward as his body tensed before my eyes.
Dominic turned then, closing the space between us. He stood facing me, all his fury focused on me.
I forced myself to hold my ground even as my mind worked frantically, wishing to somehow call the words back the instant they’d spilled from my mouth.
He gripped me by the arms and walked me as far back as the counter. My heart raced, sending adrenaline-charged blood pounding in my ears.
This was scary Dominic. This was loose cannon, wild Dominic.
This was the Dominic that made me wet.
And he knew it.
I saw the change instantly, saw how one side of his mouth lifted into the smirk that said he knew his power, he read it on my face, he was used to it. Used to having women doing as he said. Used to them dropping to their knees before him.
Fuck him. I wouldn’t kneel for him. Not for any man. Not again.
Wrapping one hand around the back of my neck, he thrust his other one under my dress and roughly up between my legs to grip my sex.
“You talk like you have a dick,” he whispered. “But all I feel here is a dripping wet pussy.”
“You’re a sexist pig,” I said, swallowing hard.
“I think you like this. You like fighting with me. It makes you hot, doesn’t it, Gia?”