12. Cassio
The headache started at the back of my head and traced a path all the way to my eyes. They were going to pop out at any second. These meetings always took longer than expected. That was what happened when all of my underbosses joined under one roof to discuss business. Today was no exception, hours had gone by, and it felt like I had aged years.
To me, this was always the most boring part of the job. My father always made sure I was present for these meetings, even when I was a child, and barely understood what these men were saying. Barely understood what it was to be a Mafiosi. I’d sit on the floor behind his chair playing with my Hot Wheels and pretending I was elsewhere.
Sitting in a chair for hours was torture. My body was always craving to move, stand, and pace. My mind was always working faster than it should. Thoughts sprouting at a million miles an hour. I had to learn to be still, to sit and listen, and then listen some more. To pretend that I gave a shit to most of what these men said.
“We cannot allow the Russians to take our territories,” Luca, one of my younger underbosses said. “We have been controlling things in Minneapolis so far.”
“Things in Oklahoma have been dire,” Carlo, the underboss of Oklahoma intervened. “Our cargos have been stolen before we can receive them from Texas.”
I sighed, it had been going back and forth since the beginning of this meeting. “How many have they taken?” I asked Carlo.
“Until now, we lost three shipments and almost a quarter of our product, if my men hadn’t intervened before.”
“It’s almost as if they know when and where to attack.” Matteo Nuzio, underboss of Ohio, pointed out astutely. I glanced at my brother who was cleaning his nails with his knife. When he heard what Matteo said, he looked at me, too.
“Is there a possibility we might have a spy amongst us?” Luca asked tentatively.
I didn’t want to say no, but saying yes would also mean telling my men about the fact that we did have a spy. Code name Volpe. These were the men I was supposed to trust, but I feared that in telling them, I would scare this fox away and lose all chances of catching him before more damage was done.
“And who do you suppose it is?” Donato said from where he sat to my right, a place that should have belonged to my brother. “Are you accusing good Italian men of treason?”
Luca’s nostrils flared, like me, he didn’t like Donato. “I suggested no such thing, Donato, I was simply pointing out that?—”
“A spy is amongst us,” Donato supplied. “That you believe it must be one of us because only we give the orders.”
Luca opened his mouth to speak, but I intervened. “There is no point in arguing,” I said tiredly. “The problem with the Russian expansion in our territory remains. And their Pakhan, Grigori Petrovich, is still in hiding.”
Speaking that name was physically revolting. The thought that my sister’s killer was still out there and fucking with me… it made me see red.
“Grigori must pay with his life,” Carlo stated, and the other men nodded.
“And he will.” I deadpan even though my blood was boiling, my rage ignited.
It took another hour or so before the meeting finally ended, and I sat there as my underbosses filed out of the room. Donato remained sitting on his chair looking at my brother who was back to cleaning his nails. The animosity between them both was as clear as day. I stacked some of the papers I’d brought, numbers of our growing business’. While the Russians were growing bolder and stealing our cargo, I learned to never put all my money on a single horse.
The Outfit invested in diverse sectors, varying from real estate to pharmaceuticals to drugs to stolen cars to countless other markets. While some were taking a toll, others were multiplying like bunnies.
When it became clear Donato wouldn’t leave, I turned my attention toward him. “Is there something else?”
“I fear Luca was right,” he sighed loudly. “We might have a spy amongst us.”
One of my brows shot up, Vitelli, I knew, had his curiosity pricked. “You say that with an awful lot of conviction.”
“Think about it, Cassio.”
“Boss,” I corrected him.
Donato pursed his lips but started again. “Think about it, Boss. They had four years to act but only now they seem to be doing so.”
I said nothing.
“Grigori tried to have you and your brother killed, too, the day he killed Bella, but he failed. When your father died, it was the time to attack, and he didn’t. Why is that?”
“I don’t fucking know, Donato, I haven’t talked to the man,” I spat. Grigori had tried to kill my siblings and me. He managed to kill Arabella, but Vitelli and I survived. Ever since then, Grigori had been ruling from the shadows.
“He didn’t have the right incentivization,” Vitelli said surprising us both. “What? I listen from time to time.”
“That doesn’t answer my question, how do you know there’s a spy amongst us?” I tapped my fingers against the table.
Donato slowly and with difficulty rose from his chair, the poor thing groaning. “I’m no fool, I have been on this earth longer than you, I see and hear things,” he said with a knowing smile. “In case you’ve forgotten, I am still your consigliere.”
I narrowed my eyes and watched as Donato left the room. The moment the door closed behind him; Vitelli broke down in laughter. I turned my glare at him trying to understand what was so damned funny. “He just pulled your ear as though you were a naughty child.” He laughed.
It certainly had felt like that. So, what if Donato knew I was keeping information from him?
“Shut up, Vitelli.”
“Did you see his face?—”
“Vitelli, shut it or I’ll do it for you.”
“Yes, Boss,” he offered me with a salute.
I rose from my chair as well, pulled on the sleeves of my dress shirt, and took a deep breath. I might fucking hate him, but Donato was right, Grigori could have come after me right after I took control of the Outfit, and he didn’t. So why now? What was propelling him to steal my shit and attack my territory? The answer was simple, and Vitelli had been right, something or better yet, someone was giving him the right incentivization. Grigori was just the hungry dog, and there must be a master behind him.
Vitelli lounged in one of my armchairs, he popped a beer open, brought the bottle to his lips, and savored the beverage before putting it down on his knee. I looked at my cup of cold water and took a sip as well before placing it on the center table.
It was Sunday and Vitelli had insisted we for once have a family lunch, as it used to be tradition before it all came crashing down. We had been sitting in complete silence while we waited for his girlfriend to show up. My brother wanted me to spend some time with her to “get to know her better.” Which was unnecessary, I already knew all the important things I needed to know. All I cared about was if she was loyal to Vitelli. From what I gathered; the girl was.
“Until when are you going to keep up that charade?” Vitelli asked as he picked up his beer and pointed toward my water.
“It’s not a charade,” I pointed out. “I don’t drink.”
“You don’t have to prove yourself anymore,” Vitelli said. “You are boss, no one is going to take that from you.”
I scoffed. “There will always be someone trying to take it from me, Vitelli. As long as I live, there will be greedy men coming after what we have.”
“Why are you always so grim?” he teased.
“It’s called being realistic.”
“I’d say pessimistic.” He argued.
I rolled my eyes and reached for the water. “Where is your girlfriend again?”
“Already bored of my company?” He joked. I sighed loudly as if to say yes, but that only caused him to laugh. “She’s getting ready. You know how girls are.”
The fact that my brother didn’t correct me when I said “girlfriend” was concerning, and it made me wonder if he even noticed.
“What could be taking her so goddamned long?”
“Do you have something better to do?”
“As a matter of fact, yes, I do?—”
“Work doesn’t count, Cassio,” Vitelli argued. “It’s Sunday, for once let it go.” His phone rang and Vitelli stood to take the call from Marie. It seemed something happened because he looked at me and then sighed loudly.
I didn’t like the look on his face and disliked even more the words that would follow out of his mouth. “Yeah, she can come.”
She?
Vitelli pocketed his phone and looked at me with unsettling eyes. “Francesca Manci is coming over.”
Fuck.
The last time I’d seen her, things hadn’t gone exactly how I had planned them. I had intended to question her about Paolo and the money he embezzled from the Outfit. Then I ended up kissing her, which wasn’t part of the script. Kissing her had been a mistake. The sanest one I’d ever committed.
“Is it going to be a problem?” Vitelli eyed me suspiciously.
“Why would it be?” I snapped.
“Let us not forget the last time you two were in a room together.”
And how could I forget that? I had my tongue down her throat, for God’s sake. An image of that day popped into my mind as though I was there all over again. Francesca’s soft and warm lips against mine. The sweet taste of cherry in my mouth, her breathy moans echoing in my ear as she rode my leg with abandon.
I had been a fucking asshole. I knew she had been close, a few seconds longer and she would have shattered, but I didn’t want it to be like that. I wanted to be in her when she orgasmed.
As if that was ever going to happen.
I kept forgetting that Francesca was out of reach. Not mine. Not even if I wished for her to be. She was bound to marry another man, one that wasn’t me and never would be. Even if I wanted her, I would have to control myself. She was not my problem to deal with.
Not mine.
FRANCESCA
What am I doing here?
The car stopped and Marie opened the door, stepping out of it. “Marie, this is not a good idea.”
“It’s going to be all right,” she assured me and patted her cream-colored dress that fit her perfectly.
I looked at my ensemble, an off-the-shoulder green dress that was a bit too short. It was not exactly the choice I would have made for Sunday lunch, but since my boxes were still packed and I hadn’t had time to find something better, the green dress it was.
“You look fine,” she said rushing me out of the cab.
“I’m not worried about that,” I said as I finally stepped out.
Vitelli lived in a large condo, nothing close to the size of Marie’s, but from the outside, it looked cozy. Like somewhere you’d live with your family and would raise your children. At least the lunch would be held in his place and not Cassio’s.
Ugh.
That name.
It had been two weeks since I’d last seen him. Or better yet, since he kissed me, almost gave me my first orgasm in years, and then left. Ah, and let us not forget the ultimatum he’d given me. One month to return to Donato’s house. One month of freedom before everything was stripped away from me. If I didn’t hate Cassio then, I hated him now.
“You’re glaring again,” Marie pointed out.
I smoothed my features as we walked into the lobby, our heels clacking against the black polished stone. Marie led the way and hit the button for Vitelli’s floor. I rubbed my hands back and forth against the fabric of my dress trying to wipe away the sweat.
“You’re making me nervous,” she said.
“You shouldn’t have forced me to come,” I answered back.
“You were holed up in that apartment of yours, sleeping—again.”
True. I was tired. Spending my days at the hospital was tiring, and all I wanted to do when I had some time to myself was sleep my fears away. I still hadn’t told Marie or Antoine about my mother. I didn’t know why, maybe not saying it wouldn’t make it real.
I took a deep breath, but it did nothing to calm my heart. Before I knew it, the elevator doors opened, and we stepped into Vitelli’s apartment. He was the only one standing in the hallway. He greeted Marie with a kiss that had me looking away, not wanting to intrude on their PDA.
“I’m glad you could make it, Frankie.” Vitelli grabbed my hand and kissed my knuckles like a true gentleman. “Make yourself at home. Si?”
“Si, grazie,” I thanked him.
“Cassio is somewhere, he had some calls to make, but he’s going to be back for lunch.”
I sighed in relief, finally some good news, at least I had a few minutes to myself. Marie pulled me along and began showing me around the place.
Vitelli’s bachelor pad was incredible, decorated in tons of white and grays, with a large living area and a kitchen that left my hands itching to use it. I bet he’d never used it in his life. The one-story apartment was twice the size of mine, and it contained an outside balcony with a jacuzzi and a small garden—which looked suspiciously well-kept.
“We had sex there,” Marie pointed with pink cheeks.
“Good to know,” I laughed.
We sat in the living area and when Cassio proceeded not to show up, I began to tense up even more. Which was odd, given I should be doing the exact opposite. I excused myself and headed toward the bathroom. I locked the door and opened my purse.
I loved Marie, I really did, but I couldn’t do this without some help, my hands were shaking as I opened the orange bottle I still had, there were two pills left. My last two pills. Without a second thought, I popped them and swallowed them dry. Shoving the pill bottle back inside my purse I flushed the toilet just for appearances sake.
When I opened the door, the devil stared back at me. I had two seconds before he shoved me inside the bathroom again and locked the door behind him.
“What are you doing.” I cried out in surprise.
“Where are they?”
“What?” I frowned.
He opened his hand. “The drugs.”
My jaw dropped, and I had no idea what to do but stare at him. Cassio took my purse from my hand and opened it. I tried to fight him, but the bathroom was too small, and he was simply too big and powerful. He proceeded to remove the orange bottle and growled. His back was to me, but I could tell I had poked the bear with a very short stick.
He turned to face me showing me the bottle. “Why, Francesca?” Why did he sound so wounded?
“How would you even know?” I snapped still trying to figure it out.
“I watched you,” he said simply. “It wasn’t so hard to tell.”
“Y-you watched me?”
His nostrils flared; he hadn’t meant to admit that out loud. He took my hand in his and this time it was so gentle I was stunned into letting him hold it. He turned it so my palm was face up, with his thumb, he smoothed the indentations I’d left in them.
“You hurt yourself when you’re nervous,” he said, his voice was smooth and low. “Why?”
I looked into his pine-green eyes surprised to find they weren’t cold, but they weren’t blazing either. “It helps,” I confessed. “It numbs the need to use.”
“Yet, you did use.”
I looked away and pulled my hand back and pressed it tightly to my body ignoring the way it still tingled. “Why do you care?” I had asked this question so many times.
“Why do you think?” he snapped. “Fuck, Francesca, why do you think!”
“Cassio,” I said softly. “Open the door.”
“Not until you tell me why you used.”
I sighed in frustration. He wasn’t going to let me out and Marie and Vitelli probably suspected something was happening. I had two options, either tell him the truth or lie, and the second one would never work on Cassio Moretti. He could always read me easily.
I crossed my arms. “Because I was nervous. I needed to take some of the edge off.”
“Why were you nervous?” He took a step toward me, crowding my space. “Tell me, Principessa.”
I hated how the Italian endearment on his lips sounded so sexual and hot. How it made my legs quiver and the butterflies in my stomach flutter. I needed to kill those damned butterflies before they led me into trouble once again.
“I already answered your question, now let me go, Cassio. This is not funny.”
“I’m not laughing, am I?”
I rolled my eyes. He took yet another step closer, and I hit the counter. Cassio’s hands landed on either side of my hips. They were far from me, but still, I felt their heat burning my skin as though they were on me. He leaned down, a lock of hair falling over his eyes. I had the unnatural urge to rake my fingers through his hair, so I dug my nails into the palms of my hands.
“You’re doing it again,” he whispered, or at least it sounded like he was.
How did he know?
“I am always aware of you, Francesca, even when I shouldn’t. Even when I don’t want to.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Why are you so nervous?” He asked ignoring my question.
My head spun with the change in subject. His scent was invading my space, and I couldn’t think straight. My eyes darted to his lips, and I wanted nothing more than to end the distance between us and kiss him?—
“No,” I shook my head. “Get out, Cassio.”
Amusement flickered in his eyes, and he smiled. It was so beautiful like the setting of the sun over the sea. I’d forgotten how pretty it was. I had a feeling he didn’t do that often, not anymore.
“I want to fucking kiss you, Francesca,” he confessed.
I wanted him to fucking kiss me, but we both knew that was the wrong thing to do. This was the past all over again. We were playing with fire, and we would both burn.
“Why?” I whispered.
“Because I always want to fucking kiss you.” He cupped my cheeks, forcing me to look into his eyes. The green was almost gone, replaced by lust.
I wasn’t given a chance to answer him because there was a knock on the door keeping us from messing up. “Frankie, are you okay?” Marie’s voice sounded through the door.
Cassio slowly stepped away, giving me some space to breathe. He ran his fingers through his hair and ran his thumb under his lower lip.
“I’m fine,” I answered as my eyes met his. “I’ll be out in a sec.” I waited until I heard the clacking of her heels and let my shoulders sag. “You can’t do this,” I snapped pushing him back. “We can’t do this.” I pointed in between us.
I side-stepped Cassio, and unlocked the door, checking both ways before shutting it as I left. Cassio couldn’t play with me like that. I wasn’t his toy to be used whenever he felt like it.