Chapter Nineteen
Stefano
A LONG NIGHT OF whiskey, blood sport, and putting out fires at Black Gold has done nothing to quell the ire boiling under my skin.
It’s irrational. I know that. There’s no goddamn reason for me to be this twisted up. What the fuck do I care what that lying little trickster does with her damn mouth?
But no matter how much I try to reason with myself, it’s not enough to quiet the rage clawing at me. Loud, sharp, relentless.
It won’t let me sleep.
She’s in my head and I don’t know how the fuck she got there.
Restless on my favorite couch in the living room, I stare out the large windows, watching the dull blue of dawn bleed into brilliant gold, flooding the house with light.
A new day.
The early morning stillness is eventually broken by Cora’s soft clattering in the kitchen. Normally, that’s my cue to head upstairs and get some rest. But there’s no point. No chance of sleep with this wildfire roaring in my chest.
I need to shoot something.
I need to kill something.
Maybe I should head to the zoo and hack up one of my debt-owing hostages into pieces, feed them to the piranhas. That might help. Or maybe—fuck this shit.
I shove to my feet and walk straight out of the house. No direction. No thought. Just motion. I hop into my cart and just sit there for a moment, staring at nothing.
Mamma…
Easing off, I cruise toward the southeastern edge of the villa grounds. Straight to Soul of Mirabella—the tribute park we built in honor of Mamma.
She loved amusement parks. Spent her final days chasing the craziest rides she could find, laughing through pain, refusing to let illness steal her zest. Until her condition became too deteriorated for those thrills.
As much as she loved the wild rides, the carousel was her favorite. That’s why a custom-made winged unicorn carousal is the center piece of Soul of Mirabella. We also added a Ferris wheel, bumper cars, a few claw machines and game stalls for nostalgia’s sake.
Leaving my cart at the entrance, I make my way to the Ferris wheel.
Benny Four shuffles out of his work hut, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “Boss?”
“I’m getting on,” I say without slowing.
There are about thirty Bennys in the operation, so we started numbering them to keep shit straight.
Benny Four’s been around since the beginning.
Grayed out, balding, and over it all. He maintains and manages Soul of Mirabella, but since the park is rarely used, he spends most of his time in that hut watching Westerns and baseball.
As he trudges to the control panel, I climb into one of the cabins and latch the gate.
“What level, boss?” he calls.
“Slow.”
Moments later, the wheel lurches to life.
When nothing else calms me, this does.
If Mamma’s spirit is anywhere, it’s here. In this place she dreamed up with her last breath.
And no, I’ve got no shame being a mamma’s boy. She was fierce in her love for family, and that’s what I admired most. I’m my Mamma’s son. Ride for family always.
Gio is family. Second to Lorenzo, he’s the only other person that has my implicit trust. With my life. Which is why I can’t understand the animosity gnawing at me right now. This urge to shove my fist through his throat.
And for what? Some Pink House girl I can’t even stand?
“Makes no damn sense, Mamma,” I mutter up at the crisp blue sky. “I don’t even like her.”
Somewhere deep in my mind, I swear I can hear her soft, beautiful laugh.
The same laugh that spilled from her that time I sat by her bedside and swore I would never love.
Never marry. A laugh that sounded like a soothing melody as she patted my cheek, her touch frail but steady, and said with utter certainty, “Oh, you will. And she will be the luckiest woman in the world, because you, my sweet boy, are a beautiful coconut. Tough and stubborn on the outside, but so, so soft and sweet on the inside. And when she comes, the right one, you’ll know, because she will be the one strong enough to crack you wide open. ”
I ride the Ferris wheel until the sun starts to roast me alive.
By the time I make it back to the house, the irrational fire has cooled just enough that I might actually be able to sleep when I hit the sheets.
I’m halfway up the stairs when I hear Gio’s voice in the kitchen, talking to Cora.
Just keep walking.
He’s your blood. Your best friend. You love him. You don’t really want to hurt him.
A vein throbs in my temple. I rub it and keep walking, picking up the pace.
And then I hear it.
“Pretty eyes.” His nickname for her.
I don’t even think. My feet pivot, my body moves.
Next thing I know, I’m at the archway of the kitchen and…oh. She’s not here.
Gio’s perched at the breakfast bar, shoveling cereal into his mouth while chatting with Cora about Raya like she’s his girlfriend.
Don’t do it.
Walk away.
But I don’t.
In the next second, my arm is locked around his neck from behind, choking the life out of him.
Gio’s as good a fighter as I am, so he’s quick to elbow me in the ribs. But it’s not enough to break my grip. I tighten my hold around his neck and haul him off the stool. He throws everything he’s got at me, but we trained together, I know all his moves before he even makes them.
Cora starts yelling, smacking me with a spatula. “What in God’s name is wrong with you? Cut it out!”
“What’s your fucking problem, man?” Gio grits out, struggling against me.
Cora whacks me again, harder this time. “LORENZO!” she shouts. “Come down here!”
“If…you’re gonna…kill me,” Gio coughs out, “you could at least…give me the courtesy of telling me why—”
“Shut the fuck up.” I drag him backward, tightening my grip until his legs give out and he drops to his knees. “You’re a—”
Suddenly, I’m yanked back with enough force to topple, but I catch my balance before I can crash into anything.
“Knock it off!”
Fucking Lorenzo.
He’s standing between us now in just his boxers, Glock in hand, bleary-eyed and annoyed. Having clearly sprinted down thinking we were under attack. “Okay, which one of you broke the pact?”
“He did,” Gio croaks, rubbing his throat. “Lunatic just tried to fucking kill me.”
Lorenzo turns to me and throws his arms out, silently demanding an explanation.
When we were kids, we fought over everything—food, sports, the TV remote. Fists first, apologies later. Until Nonna got sick of the blood and bruises and made us swear a pact to never assault each other with malicious intent. To always settle our differences with non-violent methods.
After she died, that pact quickly went to shit.
But after a particularly brutal brawl between Gio and Lorenzo, one that left Gio with a broken arm and a concussion, I reinstated the pact, with a new clause: break the pact, pay a hundred-thousand-dollar fine. No excuses. No exceptions.
None of us have broken it since.
Until now.
Unapologetic, I throw my arms out. “Fuck it. Fine me.”
Lorenzo sighs and sets his gun aside. “Care to share what pissed you off bad enough to make you break your own damn rule?” he asks. “You’re the stingiest, most money-grubbing bastard I know, so it must be serious for you to be willing to cough up a hundred large.”
When I say nothing, he turns to Gio and kicks his leg. “What did you do?”
“Hell if I know,” Gio rasps, still rubbing his neck. “But that miserable asshole better pay up.”
“Assuming you’ll be alive to spend it?” I snip.
Gio laughs and sprawls back on the floor, legs stretched out, smug as hell. “Even if I have to be buried with it, you will pay up, you piece of shit. I’ll die knowing it kills you more to pay me than to bury me.”
Lorenzo glances between us, sharp and assessing. “Wait...” His expression shifts, concern threading through the furrow in his brow. “Please tell me this isn’t about Raya.”
“Raya?” Gio echoes, confused. “Why the hell would it be about Raya?”
Lorenzo turns and stares at me dead on. Waiting for the denial.
I give him nothing.
Tense silence hangs for a long moment.
Until Gio jumps to his feet. “Son of a bitch! I knew it. I knew you were cock-blocking me on purpose!”
“Damn right I was.”
“So what, you like her now and think you’re entitled to her?” Gio tucks his hands under his chin like angel wings, grinning like the devil. “You’re mad she prefers my charming angel face over that scummy mean mug of yours?”
“You little—”
Lorenzo intercepts as I lunge, shoving me back with a grunt. “Enough!” He drags a hand down his face like this is the last thing he wants to deal with. “Both of you. Living room. Now.”
~
FIVE MINUTES LATER, Gio and I are sitting at opposite ends of the couch like feuding kids on time-out.
Lorenzo returns after leaving to put on pants and throws himself into the armchair across from us. Bet he’s feeling superior that he’s not the one involved this time.
He clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “I’ve seen you two go at it over a lot of dumb shit, but a girl? This is a first. You don’t even have the same tastes in women. So what gives?”
Gio snorts. “Taste? Please. What’s his taste? Does he even like women?”
“I’m gonna knock your fucking teeth out if—”
“Holy shit, it was you, wasn’t it?” Gio cuts me off, eyes wide with realization. “You’re the one who shot out the transformer last night. You saw us making out didn’t you?” He throws his head back and howls a laugh. “My God, you dramatic bastard, throwing tantrums with live wires.”
“For shit’s sake,” Lorenzo grumbles. “It’s like we’re fifteen all over again.
” He leans forward, elbows on his knees, all business now.
“Stefano. What’s your deal, brother? One minute you hate her and want her gone, the next you’re pulling power stunts to poach her from me, and now you’re attacking your own blood. What’s going on? What is she to you?”
Shit if I know. I’ve never felt more confused in my life. “She’s nothing to me.”
Lorenzo lifts a brow. “Then why the hell does it matter if Gio’s into her?”