Chapter Thirteen
SHAY
Ican’t believe I’ve done this. How could I put Rocco in this position?
He was only looking out for me. He wanted the best for both of us, and all of his plans involved keeping me safe. I betrayed him, and after seeing the Lombardi men outside the motel room, I fear I’ve lost him.
How could he survive against so many? He says he’s good at what he does, but no man can stand a chance against an army of mobsters.
I’m an idiot. That’s what it is. If I wasn’t so dead set on escaping a good man, I’d be with him now. Either in life or death, but at least I wouldn’t be alone in Vincent Lombardi’s house. Can I even call it that anymore with him being dead? Has Emilio taken it over completely?
Emilio is sitting across from me at the twenty-person dining-room table.
He slices a ribbon of steak from his dinner plate and jams it into his mouth.
There’s a plate in front of me, but I couldn’t reach it even if I wanted to.
My hands are bound to the armrests of the dining room chair.
Tears are streaming down my face, but every time he looks up at me, a grin stretches across his gaunt features.
“You know, I was a little afraid that my boys were going to screw it up. They grew soft under my father’s regime.” His first words to me since he sat down. “You see, complacency brings weakness. My father lost his iron will the day we met Rocco.”
He takes a sip of his red wine and lets out a satisfied ah.
“See, what happened today was meant to happen twenty-one years ago. Long before you were even a twinkle in your father’s ball sack,” Emilio continues. “Rocco’s death is the universe correcting itself.”
Another wave of tears burns my eyes at the thought of Rocco being dead. I’ve thought about Rocco’s joke a few times since the day he made it. It’s better to be with him, than the person I was intended for, and now I see why.
Emilio is a cold, devilish man with hate in his heart.
“There’s no time for crying, Shay. Not yet. Your suffering hasn’t even begun,” he says.
I fight to muster up the courage to stop crying, but with so many thoughts running through my head, I can’t.
I was thrust into a horrible situation against my will.
My parents sold me to these bastards without care or concern, and I betrayed the only person who was willing to do anything to help me.
I’m truly alone, trapped in a room with a psychopath who’s doing his very best to make my life a living hell.
“See, I’m only keeping you here until I get confirmation of Rocco’s passing.”
Rocco’s not dead? How can he be? There were so many of Emilio’s men outside the motel. Hopefully, whatever he’s up to, is going to work in his favor.
“Once the good news comes, well, you’re in for a real treat,” he takes another sip of his wine. Before continuing with his threat, he shuffles through his jacket pockets and retrieves a cigar.
He jams one end into his mouth and brings a lighter to it. He puffs a few times to stoke the ember and eases back in his seat.
“See, you were meant to be a gift for me, but I know you’ve been sullied by Rocco.
I can see it on your face every time I mention his name,” he says.
“I won’t take his spoiled, sloppy seconds.
It’s beneath me. But my crew, on the other hand, well, I’m sure they’d love to have someone to relieve their stress. ”
An instant pit opens in my belly.
“You’ll be a glorified fuck toy, and I can’t wait to watch you squirm.” While Emilio is speaking, his phone starts to ring. He answers it with a chipper tone. “Tell me you’ve got some good news.”
Please be Rocco calling from one of his guy’s phones. Please be Rocco sending word that Emilio has failed. A glimmer of hope sparks inside of me, and I feel like I can still overcome this horrendous fate.
“He is? Wonderful. Bring the body back home.” The corners of Emilio’s lips twist into a grin. He kills the call and takes another deep drag on his cigar. “He’s dead.”
“He can’t be.” They’re the first words I’ve said since I was brought into the dining room.
“Well, he is,” Emilio kills the end of his cigar and cuts another piece of steak. “And with his passing, your fate is sealed. I can’t wait to watch you suffer.”
A mixture of emotions bubbles and brews to the surface.
Once more, I want to cry, but the tears don’t fall.
I want to scream, but my voice is choked in the back of my throat.
I’m sad, I’m angry, and I’m scared… but mostly numb.
I can’t process any of this, so it settles into a hollow void in my chest.
“Well, how about this then?” Emilio speaks again. I’m so fucking tired of hearing his voice. “I’m going to finish my dinner, and then I’ll take you around and introduce you to the men you’re going to satisfy. Sound like a plan?”
I won’t speak. Fuck him. He doesn’t deserve it.
He continues eating his meal, drinking his wine, and puffing on his cigar for what feels like an eternity. I’m left to silent contemplation of my situation, but it’s impossible to steady my thoughts. My mind races with visions of what’s about to happen to me.
Then, just as Emilio reaches the end of his meal, a voice from somewhere in the house screams out. “Where is she?”
I recognize it immediately. It’s Rocco.
“What the—” Emilio jumps out of his chair.
A pistol shot rings out from behind the dining-room door.
He’s here. He’s alive.
I still have a chance to make this right.