Chapter 4 | Michael
Michael
Victor’s goons kept me sequestered for two weeks in a filthy warehouse where I was given a meager supply of water and food each day.
Once his marriage with Bianca had been officially solidified, I was released onto a street several blocks from my home.
Frank and James tossed me out of the car like garbage, and I grimaced as I rolled on my broken ribs.
Not only had they relieved me of my fingernails and toenails, but they’d done a pretty good job of beating the shit out of me.
I was sure that both of my pinkie fingers were broken, and my nose would never be straight again.
Rage filled me as Frank stepped from the black town car and peered down at me.
“Leave Bianca Rossi alone, Michael. Victor has shown you grace by sparing your life this time, but you won’t be so lucky next time.”
He returned to the car, folding into the back seat before it drove away.
I managed to stumble home, my anger and adrenaline blocking out most of the pain. Hatred for Victor Rossi ran deep in my veins, and if I vowed that I would take his life once things had settled.
Of course, I knew the reality that the future now held.
It would be many years until I could murder Victor and exact my revenge.
I needed to take over my father’s mantle and grow my power until the families would accept such a violent act.
Only a true and respected leader could kill someone as powerful as Victor and live to tell about it.
But I knew that one day, I would get my revenge, and when that day came, I would try to make things right with Bianca. Even if I couldn’t save her, I could help her, and that was what I vowed to do.
After returning home, I let my father fuss over me for a while, wanting to comfort him since his health was quickly deteriorating.
“I’m fine, Papa,” I said, shaking my head as I coughed. “I just need to heal.”
He walked toward me and placed his hand on my bruised shoulder. “I was so worried. We knew immediately that Frank and James had disappeared, and I feared they defected to Victor.”
“They’re the least of my concerns,” I said, clenching my jaw at their deception. “I’ll bounce back, stronger than before, and I’ll return our family name to greatness.”
“I have no doubt, son,” my father said, his voice weary. “I wish you hadn’t chosen this life, but now, it seems it’s chosen you back.”
That was one of the last conversations I had with my father. He passed away a month later, leaving me to take over his waning empire. Throughout the next two decades, I would work tirelessly to rebuild it into the most powerful one on the East Coast.
During that time, I also ensured that I did my best to take care of Bianca. Late one night, several weeks after my father’s death, I showed up for a clandestine visit at Victor’s housekeeper’s home.
“Hello, Carmen,” I said, keeping my tone calm so I didn’t startle her. “I’d like to come in, if you don’t mind.”
She eyed me warily from the doorframe, but allowed me inside her small Queens home. As we stood inside, she lifted her chin and pointed to the floor.
“My neighbor below is a very large man,” she said with a soft Spanish lilt. “If I scream, he’ll rush up here with his gun.”
“I have no desire to hurt you,” I said, showing my palms. “And this will only take a moment. I want to enlist your help.”
“My help?”
I nodded. “I made a promise to Bianca Santoro before she married Victor, and unfortunately, I wasn’t able to keep it. Now, I’m very worried for her safety. I’d like to entrust you to be a spy, of sorts, if you’re open to it.”
“A spy?”
“Yes.” I pulled a wad of hundred-dollar bills from my pocket.
“This is three-thousand dollars in cash. I’ll pay it to you each month if you report back to me on Bianca.
I want to know everything about her: what she ate for breakfast, what her favorite flowers are, even what color fingernail polish she wears. ”
Carmen swallowed thickly. “And if I don’t help you?”
I smiled, impressed by the woman’s grit. “Let’s just say, I hope you will. I have a...vested interest in Bianca.”
Carmen tilted her head and studied me. “Are you in love with her?”
“I...” I rubbed the back of my neck, wondering how to define my complicated feelings for the woman who’d entranced me under the moonlight all those weeks ago. “I don’t know if it’s love, although it could be. All I know is that I want her safe.”
“She’s lovely,” Carmen said, her eyes shifting to the ground as her expression grew sad. “And very unhappy. I will agree to be your spy with the hope that we can save her together one day.”
Smiling, I pressed the cash into her palm. “Thank you, Carmen. My men will set you up with a burner phone to text me updates. We’ll keep it discreet, and I’ll make sure you’re safe too.”
Carmen squeezed my hand as her lips curved into a smile. “That girl deserves more than what Victor gives her. I wish you luck, Mr. Caruso.”
With that, I began my silent protection of Bianca with the help of Carmen. As months turned into years, we worked together to do our best to keep Bianca safe. I thought that perhaps my obsession with Bianca would wane, but as the years progressed, it only became more embedded in my soul.
At night, I would lay in bed, imagining having the raven-haired beauty curled into my side, snuggling with me as she fed our child from her breast. The fact that she gave Victor a daughter a year after their marriage made my stomach churn, and I wanted nothing more than to wrest her away from his old, withered hands.
Unfortunately, my path to prominence took many more years than I’d hoped. Two decades of fighting and clawing my way to the top—and making some very important connections with new East Coast families—finally solidified the Carusos as the top family in the New York/New Jersey area.
And as the twenty-third anniversary of my night with Bianca under the stars arrived, I stood at the window of my expansive home, drinking the Scotch I’d saved for when I could finally rescue Bianca.
It was time for Victor Rossi to die, and I was fully prepared to pull the trigger.