Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
Caelian
Nevaeh is on her best behavior.
We take a limousine into the city. One of my men by the name of Sergio drives. Nevaeh and I sit on opposite sides of the limo avoiding each other.
More so on my end.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned about mia bella ballerina throughout our recent struggles, it’s that she hates to be ignored.
There’s no easier way to drive her crazy than to ignore her. Pretend her presence, her whole existence doesn’t matter. Immature? Perhaps.
But given what has transpired, I feel well within my rights. Ms. Poitier has warned about playing these games with my wife. She’s stated forgiveness is necessary, and if I hold a grudge, things between us will only deteriorate.
“Nevaeh is begging for you to give her a second chance, C,” she lectured earlier this morning. I was seated in my home office sipping an espresso and glancing over the Dresden Reporter—about as civilized and sophisticated as I get—when she brought down the mood with her advice.
I offered her no real reaction at first. I continued sipping my coffee, skimming through the city paper out of curiosity if I’d come across a news story of interest. Something that tied back to my family or Nero and the Vorones.
Ms. Poitier pressed me. She edged closer so she was in my peripheral when she put hands on her hips and issued more of her “wise” words.
“You might as well give the girl to Nero.”
“You’ve told bad jokes before. But this one takes the cake.” I swallowed the last of the espresso and turned over the creased newspaper to read the other side.
“Who’s joking? I’m being serious. If you’re not going to forgive her, then give her away. It’s cruel of you to keep her like this.”
I couldn’t help myself. I scowled at her. “And giving her away to Nero wouldn’t be cruel?”
“It would be extremely cruel. That’s my point, C. Both are cruel.”
“Something tells me I’m slightly less cruel to her than Nero would be.”
“Says who? The girl’s in love with you… and you’re pretending she doesn’t exist. All while you hold onto your marriage and rut inside her like some savage beast.”
“You say that like I consider being a savage beast to be a bad thing.”
Ms. Poitier lost her patience with a roll of her eyes. “You say that like it’s something to be proud of. Keep playing these games, C. You’re going to play right into irreversible territory. You’re going to play so damn much you won’t have a wife left.”
I never dignified her with an answer.
The Dresden Reporter held my attention.
…or that’s what I prefer for Ms. Poitier to think.
It’s what I want Nevaeh to think too. That I’m some heartless, cruel bastard who doesn’t give a fuck if I make my ballerina suffer. It would be deserved in every way.
And I do feel that way. I am that vicious, that uncaring to others. I’ve never given any fucks about anybody but myself. I moved away from civilization for a reason, and I’ve lived my life even as a capo under Pa’s rule with that philosophy. My wants come above all else.
Nevaeh, as much as she may believe I hate her, is the only exception.
I do care about mia bella ballerina. My sweet, beautiful, fucking sensuous angel.
I care so much she consumes my thoughts even when I pretend she doesn’t. When she’s present, it’s even worse. I can’t concentrate on the matters I should be concentrating on.
Her absence intensifies this problem of mine.
Yesterday I was in the war room planning our next move with my men as obsessive thoughts about Nevaeh filled my head.
Afterward, I’d found her in the study and fucked her on the armchair where she was reading a book.
By the time I was through with her, she was hanging half upside down over the armrest, her dress flipped up for quick, easy access.
Once I had come, regaining some clarity, she’d rushed to throw herself in my arms, pleading with me to stay so we could talk.
I had walked out. I had left her sinking back down on the cushions with the kind of heartbroken expression that told me she probably cried the moment I was out of the room.
I wasn’t proud.
As we sit in stanch silence in the back of the limo, I’m still not.
It’s weighing heavier and heavier on me to carry on this act. To push her further and further away ’til it feels like we’re nothing more than cold strangers with the faces of what was once our lovers.
I don’t take pleasure in treating Nevaeh this way. In the beginning, it meant nothing to me to be inconsiderate and ignorant to her needs, but we’ve come far in our relationship. I’ve begun to view her as more than a fantasy from my dreams. She’s a woman… she’s my wife.
I miss our laughter, even if mine was sometimes gritty and reluctant. I miss holding her soft hand in mine and the way she’d rest her head on my shoulder and curl into me. But most of all, I miss the warmth that had begun to exist between us.
Warmth that’s chilled into a cold distance now.
I bite down on my jaw and glare out the tinted window, reminding myself this is how things have to be. I have to be this way with Nevaeh if she’s to learn a valuable lesson.
Loyalty is not an ask. It’s a requirement.
Your word is your vow. Vows are forever.
…or until death.
As though sensing what’s on my mind, Nevaeh turns her head. She’s looking in my direction. Stubborn as a fucking mule, I pretend I don’t see her out of the corner of my eye. We’ve reached the outskirts of Dresden and will arrive at her doctor’s office soon.
But she doesn’t care that I ignore her. She simply stares at me, recognizing it irritates me.
My clenched jaw and heated glare out the window probably give me away.
I snap at her. “What? What is it? Why are you staring?”
“Maybe after my appointment, we can—”
“No,” I answer immediately. “What part of sit and be quiet don’t you understand?”
“Cael, we need to talk about us. Can’t you hear me out?”
“No, and using Cael in that sweet little voice won’t work.” The second the harsh words rumble out of me and the hope dies on her pretty face, I feel a deep pang of guilt. I almost… almost take it back.
Until I bite down harder on my jaw and revert to glaring out the window.
We arrive at the doctor’s office only a few minutes later. The two men I’ve brought as security escort Nevaeh inside. I remain in the limo to place a couple of important phone calls. I had to come into the city today in order to meet with my accountant about some business moves I’ve been making.
And selling my share in Zinc Co.
Something that will infuriate Pa the moment he finds out. Not that I have a single fuck to give about the situation.
We’ve all but severed ties at this point. The night at the Orchid Lounge still hovers at the forefront of my mind. A group of men, at least eleven or twelve, attacked me in the alleyway. Who else could they be but Pa’s men?
He’d fled the scene and ordered his men to pounce, likely once he saw I was alone.
I have always been a man capable of standing on my own two feet. I’ve been the black sheep of my family. Proudly so.
The true definition of a lone wolf.
Pa will be furious when he learns of my recent business decisions because it’ll solidify I’m done with him. I’m finished playing his games, pretending to respect him and his authority, and being a part of his corrupt syndicate he calls a family.
Fuck him and fuck every last member.
My men are loyal enough that they’ll follow me anywhere.
I hang up from a brief phone call with my accountant and check the time.
“Sergio, how long has she been with the doctor?” I ask, almost distractedly. I’m scrolling through my phone and swiping left on emails, sending many straight to my trash folder.
Sergio radios the security inside, then peers at me in the rearview mirror. “It’s been fifteen minutes. You want one of them to go in the room?”
“No, you fucking idiot. Do you know what a gynecologist is? My wife is in the middle of a private examination.”
I already spoke to her doctor. She’s receiving a basic exam to ensure everything is good, and then she’ll be put on vitamins and a new fertility treatment that will help our endeavor along. She’ll be pregnant within the next few weeks.
I’ve been having her enough I would be surprised if she isn’t already pregnant.
If I’m going to die soon, then I’m going to die with Nevaeh carrying my child. She doesn’t even understand the significance yet; she’s so stuck on the fact that I haven’t forgiven her, missing out on the fact that she’s still my wife. She’s still going to be the mother of my child.
Her importance has gone nowhere. Even if things aren’t as tender as they used to be.
I dial up Pa and listen to the phone ring so many times, I’m certain I’ll be sent to voice mail. He’s been avoiding me to the point of cowardice and I can’t say I’m surprised. Then, on the sixth or seventh ring, he finally answers.
“Caelian,” he wheezes. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“You tell me, Papa. You have been avoiding me.”
“Avoiding you? Son, you are my prized heir. Why would I ever avoid you?”
“Am I?” I snarl, teeth gritted. “Or is that Cristian? Or Carmelo? How about Coreno? Have you already replaced your eldest son with one of them? Decided I have a weak heart and am too much trouble?”
“Well, you have not been an easy son if that’s what you’re asking, Caelian,” he says candidly. “But you and I both know Cristian could never take your place. He would have to get off his fat ass to do so. And Coreno? He is ruthless and cutthroat, yes, but he lacks the natural dominance necessary.”
“And Carmelo?” I press. “You know, the stronzo who betrayed me, who you’ve sided with?”
“Son, I have no idea what you’re—”
“You fled the Orchid Lounge rather than speak to me! You sent a group of men to beat me down in the alley! You think I don’t know you were involved? I saw your fucking car speeding away!”
“All this anger you have for me. Where is the respect?”
“I’ll tell you where the fucking respect is…
in the fucking gutter where it belongs! Where I was beaten by your men!
” I roar like a beast. “Guess what, Papa? I’m washing my hands of you and this so-called family.
I’m selling my shares of Zinc Co, and I’ll no longer be warring with Nero on your behalf. Fight your own battles.”
“You will come to regret this. I can promise you that.”
“I can promise you I stand alone. I don’t need you or the Ziccardi family. But, Papa, you do need me.”
“You sound foolish. Your choices are your own. Just do not expect mercy when you lose.”
Before I can respond, he hangs up on me. I’m seething as the line goes dead. Pissed enough to crush my phone within my grip. I’d have the piece of plastic cracked in half if I squeezed any harder than I already am.
My father wants to play hardball. He thinks I’m a child, where he can intimidate and control me. He’s sorely mistaken considering I’m better than him and his band of idiot hangers-on. Carmelo wound up losing against me, and Coreno and Cristian have no chance.
Pa is older, frailer. He’s wizened and sleepy half the fucking time. How does he possibly think he’s going to succeed in this ploy?
I’ll crush him like I do all my enemies.
On that note, I get out of the limo. Nevaeh has emerged shouldered by the security I’ve sent with her. Her expression is flat and downturned, her aura sad and mopey. She’s likely exasperated from the thorough exam—conducted by a female doctor—and still upset from our earlier ride into the city.
In past times, before our struggles, I’d have swept her up into my arms. I’d have rewarded her the rest of the evening, pampering and spoiling her every way I could. I’d be doing everything in my power to make Nevi feel better after such an appointment. No such luxuries will be afforded now.
I meet them halfway down the path leading into the clinic. My men take a hint and move aside.
“How did it go?” I ask, keeping a blasé tone.
“Will you spend time with me so I can tell you?”
“It’s a simple question that doesn’t need spending time.”
She sighs, her narrow shoulders sinking. We start back toward the limousine when I sense the shift in the air. My immediate inclination is to grab hold of Nevaeh and push her behind me. Before I even know what it is and what’s happening.
What has caused such a sudden change in the atmosphere?
A second later, violence erupts.
The heavy spray of bullets. The detonation of panic and adrenaline.
Somebody’s shooting up the sidewalk where Nevaeh and I stand.