25. — you’re mine, homicide. #2
“Did she now?”
Vanna said nothing, just stared. Daring him to...do something. She could cut glass with her gaze.
Giorgio sighed as he put his attention back on Carmen. “All right, a hug, then?”
That, he got.
“Night, Daddy.”
“Night, baby. Did you have fun?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. Don’t forget to say goodnight to your brothers.”
“I will,” she promised, turning back to her mother.
Once the two had gone from the sitting room, Giorgio reverted to his previous position, watching his son. Except now, he watched Marco and the date he brought along.
“Even she’s proof of what I said, she’s a way to hurt his brother; to humiliate him, to remind him of what he’s done to Nico.”
“I know,” Giorgio murmured.
The confession just about knocked Salvatore straight off his feet.
“But he’s going to need that, isn’t he?” Giorgio asked after a moment. “He’s going to need the kind of skin not even someone like Marco could bite through. Hell, he might even thank me for it,” the man added. “Someday.”
Salvatore remained quiet.
“Go dance with your daughter,” the boss said, then.
Finally, the dismissal he’d been waiting for. He certainly fucking earned it.
···
Salvatore intended to get at least one dance with his daughter, but after hours of standing next to Giorgio acting as the man’s personal sounding board for all his grumblings, he headed for the bar first. He didn’t typically drink at these parties, let alone his own, as alcohol tended to slow him down.
He could not afford that tonight, but three good gulps of whiskey wouldn’t hurt him at this point.
Thankfully, Marco and his date had left the bar. Salvatore wasted no time getting that drink from the woman making them behind the counter and then slamming it back. So much for three gulps. It went down in one big swallow that burned.
Feeling like he could now handle—maybe—another hour at this shitshow, Salvatore went in search of his daughter.
It didn’t take him long to find her in the connected gallery room that doubled as a space to dance and enjoy music during the gatherings.
The space had practically cleared of people but for a handful that weren’t really paying attention to what was going on in the corner.
Sal did. He saw.
Marco had Frankie practically backed against a wall, towering over her with a sinister smile that chilled him. Neither noticed his approach, but his steps slowed, and he came to a full stop once he could hear their conversation.
“Come on,” Marco urged her, “one dance.”
“How many times do you need to be told no before you listen?”
“It’s a dance, Francesca.”
“And I said no. Three times.”
“Why not?”
Her expression sparked with annoyance. “What do you mean, why not? Because I said no. Because I said it three times. Because I don’t want to. Because no is an answer whether it’s the answer you want or not. That’s why.”
From his side profile, Salvatore could see the way Marco’s lips pulled back to show his teeth in a sneer just before he lifted the glass in his hand to take a drink. Then, he pointed at Frankie, nodding.
“I know what it is,” Marco muttered, “you think you’re better than me, right?
A spoiled, special little princess, that’s what you are.
Daddy’s perfect brat,” he continued taunting, edging closer to Frankie.
She just kept staring him down, not moving an inch.
“I wonder what Daddy would think if he found out what I heard in the bathroom between you and my brother. I think he’d find that very interesting. ”
Frankie snorted. “Seriously? You’re trying to blackmail me for a dance?”
“Oh, no. I only offer a deal once. My price just went up.”
Her laugh stung. “By all means, tell me how much.”
“Head in the back of my new Jeep sounds good, doesn’t it?”
Frankie folded her arms across her chest, and took a step forward, never breaking eye contact with Marco the whole time.
“Not if your dick was made of gold, asshole.” She took another step, forcing him back one.
“Not if you were God.” Another step took her farther from the wall, and Marco jerked his chin up in mock bravado.
“And not even if it meant living to see another day. Not. Going. To. Happen. Do you understand me?”
“Be careful what you wish for,” Marco murmured.
Frankie’s gaze sharpened like Carina’s would when someone needed cut down. “Kinda wish you were dead, honestly.”
“Two minutes. Backseat of my Jeep.”
“You’re disgusting, Marco. Go to hell.”
She moved to push past him, probably to find someone safe, but he grabbed her arm on the way by. Leaning in close to bare his teeth, he started to say something, but it got lost on the way.
Frankie slapped the words right out of him. Hard. “Let me go.”
She yanked out of his grasp, and while he turned fast on her to continue his nonsense, they both stopped at the sight of Salvatore. Frankie stepped closer to her father, while Marco straightened to his full height.
“Are you looking for a problem, Marco?” he asked the idiot of the hour. “Because I can help you with that.”
“No,” Marco muttered, teeth clenched.
Coward.
“I suggest you go find your date before the next thing that finds you is a grave.”
Just like that, Marco darted off. Salvatore kept a keen eye on him until he’d exited the space entirely, and only then did he turn to face his daughter again.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yeah. I’m sorry. I know I’m not supposed to hit people.”
He chuckled. “People like that? Hit as hard as you fucking can, Sunshine. As frequently as they need it.”
She shivered, still staring in the direction Marco had gone. Like just the thought of him made her shudder. “What is wrong with him?”
Salvatore had the answer.
She wouldn’t like it.
“He hates his father, and he hates himself because he’s the best reflection of Giorgio that there is.
He hates his brother, too, but that’s the one thing he feels safe letting loose on the most. Because he’s bigger and older, and he used to be stronger in a lot of ways.
Because he was old enough to understand how his life changed when Nico came around, and he hates him for it.
He hated him from the moment Nico was born.
It goes deeper than jealousy; it’s more twisted than we could ever understand.
Not even a newborn was safe from Marco. People like him are born the way they are, but honestly, I think he was made that way.
Or, and this is very possible, too, it’s a bit of both. ”
Her gaze asked questions he wouldn’t discuss.
“Don’t ask,” Salvatore murmured, adding, “Not even Nico knows it all, and he shouldn’t. Neither should you. Some things, people just shouldn’t know. You can’t ever forget it once you do. And God, I wish I never knew. I wish it wasn’t in my head every day I live.”
She sniffled then and used the sides of her fingers to dab at her eyes. “Is it almost over?”
“Almost. I came to find you for a dance.”
She smiled, getting back to her sweet self. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Where’s Nico, anyway?”
“Carmen asked if he’d read a bedtime story; Vanna said yes. I had to beg him to go, he didn’t want to leave me alone. He didn’t think I would be okay. I guess I wasn’t.”
“You are okay. You handled that situation better than he would’ve, and I don’t mean disrespect to Nico by saying so. He would really give Marco what he deserves, but Nico would pay for doing so ultimately.”
Regrettably, Salvatore wouldn’t get that dance he wanted with his daughter.
The bedtime story must have been a short one, as Nico re-entered the room with annoyance written heavily across his face.
It didn’t take long to figure out why when Marco’s date followed close behind him in heels that really weren’t made for running.
“Would you fuck off,” Nico snapped loudly. “To literally fucking anywhere, Mina.”
“At least let me say goodbye, baby.”
“No.”
All he saw passing him by was the red swish of his daughter’s dress. Salvatore wouldn’t have had the time to react if he’d thought to try.
He did say, “Frankie!”
But she didn’t hear him.
Salvatore headed after her anyway. Five steps too late for what she planned, though. Nico hadn’t scanned the room for Frankie, heading for another connecting one. Mina followed. So did Frankie. Marco’s date grabbed Nico by his arm at the same time Frankie snatched her by her wavy blonde hair.
Frankie grabbed Mina at the scalp, fingernails and all. She yanked her back so hard that the girl stumbled in her heels, and then she held her until Mina’s neck muscles visibly strained from the strength of Salvatore’s daughter holding her in place.
“Frankie, stop,” Salvatore ordered.
Nico, turning back, muttered only, “Shit.”
“I know I fucking told you not to touch him, didn’t I?” Frankie asked Mina, those maroon smoked eyes of hers narrowing viciously. She pulled on the girl’s hair again, forcing her closer to the floor. “Bitch, I will hurt you.”
“You’re hurting me now!”
“Good.”
“Frankie, hey,” Nico said, stepping closer again. “Come on, babe. Let her go.”
She looked his way, arching one eyebrow high. “Oh, I will, when she learns—”
“What the fuck?” came a snarl from behind everyone.
Marco came in fast, pushing between the two girls to break them apart, but in the process, Nico headed straight into the fray. Salvatore moved then as well, knowing this would lead nowhere good. In the scuffle, Frankie’s backside hit the floor.
The ruffles of her dress flattened over her midsection as Marco helped Mina stand, and told the story they had tried to keep hidden. Nico was not fast enough to get in front of Frankie before his older brother saw the swell of the secret pregnancy.
“Holy shit, she’s fucking pregnant?” Marco asked.
Nico’s shoulders tensed.
Frankie’s eyes widened.
Salvatore stepped between Marco, and his daughter and her fiancé on the floor. “Take her to the car, Nico.”
“She’s fucking pregnant, bro!” Marco hollered, clapping.
The bigger problem? Currently standing in the connecting entryway. Giorgio.
“Party’s over,” the man uttered, eyes blazing. “My office. Everyone. Now.”
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