Chapter 7
Breakfast, the most important meal of the day and all I can stomach is coffee. I stare at the hot liquid in my mug and hear the elevator doors ping.
“Morning!” Rome pads across the room toward me in his gym gear. “This was left for you at reception.” He places a parcel on the table.
Eyeing it with curiosity, I look at the postage label and see it is from back home. Weird. Maybe Saskia sent a care package. Ripping it open, the smell nearly knocks me off my chair. “What the fuck is this?” I look into the box, not daring to touch anything in it.
“Pass it here?” Screwing up his face, Rome tentatively places his hand in the box and pulls the top layer of scrunched up plastic out, throwing it on the floor.
The smell intensifies and I sit back in my chair, afraid of what he’s going to pull out. Watching him carefully grab the outside of the box, he tips it to pour out whatever foul thing is in there.
“Oh my God!” Jumping off the chair, I trip over my own feet and land hard on my ass. The jolt of hitting the hard tiled floor wakes me up enough to know there’s something dead on the table. “What the fuck is it?”
Rome’s eyebrows are drawn together as he holds his t-shirt over his nose to try to deal with the stench. “No fucking idea but stay down there. Don’t come any closer.” Grabbing the spoon I had used to stir my coffee, I see him poking at the package contents.
Climbing back up off the floor, I use the chair as a sort of barrier between me and my smelly parcel. My gaze darts from Rome to the vacuum sealed thing and back. “Do you know what it is?” I lean over tentatively trying to get a better look.
Rome places the spoon under it and flips it over. Facing me is the severed head of Mr. Whiskers. “Holy fuck!” I shriek and scamper backward, hitting my back into the wall. I’m about to pass out when Papa V. comes racing in with his Glock in one hand and a taser in his other.
With wild eyes he scans the room, ensuring he stands in front of me in protection. “What’s going on?” His gruff voice booms through the apartment as he takes in the package on the table. “What the fuck is that smell?”
“Your cat’s head.” Rome waves his hand in front of his face to rid his nose of the smell.
Papa V. takes two large strides to the table, picks up the vacuumed sealed Mr. Whiskers and examines it. Turning it over in his hand, he doesn’t even so much as flinch at its contents or from the smell and I realize he probably deals with a lot more gruesome things in his line of work.
“Who sent this?” He tosses it onto the table without any emotion.
“No idea. It’s come from back home though.” Rome grabs the box Mr. Whiskers came in and pushes it to Papa V., all the while holding his nose.
I haven’t moved an inch as I stand against the wall for support. What kind of sick fuck would kill an innocent animal? I breathe through my mouth as I block my nose and try not to think about poor Mr. Whiskers suffering. Wetness pools in my eyes as I glance at his little head on the table.
Papa V. looks at the box and pauses for a moment. “This is addressed to you, Monroe.”
“Yes.” My voice shakes as I try to come to terms with the death of our family cat.
“What family meeting did I miss?” Sin stalks in fresh from a gym session, towel draped over his shoulders and covered in a sheen of perspiration.
My gaze roams over his tattoos and I spot a few new additions when my attention is snapped back to Papa V.
“Some sick fuck killed our cat and posted his fucking head to Monroe. Now, I know one of you knows what the fuck is going on and you’re going to spill it, or no one leaves this room until you do.” Murder and revenge roll off him in spades.
Raphael Vitiello has an air about him that screams don’t fuck with me. He dominates every room he enters. Being the Don of the Cosa Nostra in the New York chapter gives him many perks as well as many burdens. His loyal men give up their lives for him to rule their kingdom of corruption. I know this personally from the way I used to see my father devote his entire existence to this enigma of a man standing in front of me. His classic mobster looks define his very being, from his slicked back black hair with smattering of grays down to his Italian loafers. He oozes mafia without even trying.
My eyes dart between all three of them before finally resting on Rome, hoping my pleading stare makes him keep his mouth shut. He knows a few details of my stalker, but I’ve kept the information lighthearted and almost as though the whole thing is a big joke.
Sin stops in his tracks, eyes glued to the package on the table. Stalking forward slowly, his wild eyes remain on his dead, childhood cat’s head as he comes to a slow stop a few inches from the edge of the table. Nostrils flaring, his gaze zeroes in on the package, the movement of his jaw highlighting his brewing rage. Slowly he turns to glare at me, abhorrent hatred burning in his gaze. “This is your fucking fault.”
He takes an intimidating step toward me before Papa V. intercepts him. “Calm down. This isn’t anyone’s fault.” Papa V. places a firm hand on his son’s chest and pushes him back a few steps.
I want to slide down the wall and crawl away to go cry in the shower. Mr. Whiskers was my one friend when my parents died, he would curl up next to me and make sure some part of his body was touching mine to let me know he was there.
Rome walks around the table to me and pulls me into his arms. He knows how much that cat meant to me. “It’s okay.” Holding me against him tightly, his hand rubs my back in comfort, and it’s all that is keeping me from breaking down.
Burying my face in his chest, I do all I can not to cry in front of Sin. I’ve never let him see the vulnerable side of me, he doesn’t get the privilege of seeing me break. He would use it as ammunition for the next time he felt the need to torment me. “I fucking hate human beings,” I whisper into Rome’s shirt. I pull away from him and tuck myself under his arm, which now rests lazily over my shoulders. His fingers brush over my skin in gentle circles that almost tickle.
“What’s happening?” Chaser strolls in casually, dressed in his swim shorts and nothing else.
The way these boys treat this six star hotel is hilarious. Often they’ll roam around with no shoes on, shirtless and dripping wet from the pool as though this is their backyard at home. I suppose, when you’ve grown up here and spent many holidays running around as little kids, it would feel like an extension of your home. Especially when you don’t give a shit of what any of the other guests think of you.
“Oh good, the last Amigo has arrived. Step up here, son, we seem to have an issue with no one willing to talk.” Papa V. forces a smile on his face.
Chaser’s eyes roam around the room at the three of us before he glances down at the cat’s head on the table. “What the fuck is that?” He pushes it with his pointer finger before coughing and dry heaving into his hand. “Dude, that’s Mr. Whiskers!” he says, stepping back away from the table and holding his nose.
“Yes, it seems so.” Papa V. grips the bridge of his nose, frustration taints his words.
As I turn to look out the large windows, my gaze locks with Sin’s. Murderous rage threads through his features as he stares back at me, arms crossed, simmering in his own dark madness.
“Someone tell me what the fuck is going on!” Papa V. slams his palm onto the table causing me to jump.
Silence.
“You boys are about this close to getting shipped off to Sicily to do some hard grueling work.”
Rome pulls me into him and clears his throat. “Monroe has some creepy fucker following her.”
“Shut up.” My annoyance is about to explode. I can’t believe he said something.
He glances down at me, apologetic in his look. “I’m sorry, but I had to say something. It’s a little fucked.” His nostrils flare as his grip on me tightens, not allowing me to step away from him.
Papa V. stares at me not saying a word for a few beats. “How long has this been going on?” he says quietly.
“Are you fucking serious!” Chaser storms toward me, half pushes Rome aside and grips my shoulders. “What the hell is Rome talking about?” Letting go of me he spins on the spot and faces Papa V. and Sin. “We need find this fucker and kill him.”
His words send shockwaves through me. The fact he cares enough to want to end someone’s life for me has my mind in overdrive.
“Monroe.” Papa V. looks at me and ignores the other three.
I suck in a deep breath and close my eyes. “For a while now.”
“Has he hurt you?” Papa V. is calm in his demeanor but I can see the intense anger burning inside him.
“No, he only sends things to me,” I confess.
“Things?”
I want to crawl under a rock. I can’t tell them all he sends me sex toys. “Personal things.” I can feel my embarrassment ebb its way up my neck and color my skin.
Papa V. pulls out his phone and has someone on speed dial because they answer immediately. “Get my men to do a sweep of the grounds here as well as at home. We’ve had a breach.” He hangs up and stares out the window before he speaks. “Boys, I need to talk privately with Monroe.”
Without even a sideward glance, all three leave in silence, not daring to utter a single word. I try to dislodge the lump that has wedged itself in my throat as Papa V.’s attention turns to me.
“Fuck,” he breathes and rubs his hand over his face, pausing his fingers at his sharp jaw. Sitting on the bar stool, he looks almost defeated. “I promised your mom and dad I’d protect you with my life. That I wouldn’t let you get hurt.” His words clench around my heart and squeeze.
“I’m not hurt, Papa V.” I step forward and lean against the edge of the table needing the support.
He looks at me and shakes his head. “I failed them. I’m so sorry, Monroe.”
“No, you didn’t. You and Mama V. have been so good to me. I couldn’t have dreamed of anything more. This asshole has a fixation for some reason, I’m sure once I go to college, all this will stop.”
“Your dad was a good man. One of my best. He was like a brother to me.” Papa V. looks out the floor to ceiling windows before he continues, “he kept his word to the very end, and I will be damned if I don’t keep mine.” His gaze settles on me and a glimpse of sorrow registers behind his eyes.
My eyes dart from Papa V. to Mr. Whiskers’ severed head and back. “I’m grateful for everything you have done for me over the years, but you don’t need to worry, Papa V., I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself.”
“If you’re anything like your mom, I don’t doubt that.” His smile touches his eyes as the crinkles deepen and his genuine grin warms my heart. “But.”
“There’s always a but,” I interrupt him.
“But,” he repeats with a little emphasis, “I can’t have you roaming around on your own on the other side of the country with this fucker stalking you. You’ll transfer to SLU so Sin and the boys can watch out for you.”
I blink trying to determine if I heard him correctly. “Sorry.” I watch as he types a message on his phone and places it back down on the marble table top.
“Boys, come in here,” he shouts.
Rome, Chaser and Sin all file back into the main living area and stand waiting for direction.
“I’m not transferring to SLU.” I shake my head in disbelief as my plans for college fade before my eyes.
“What the fuck?” Sin’s eyes nearly pop out of his head as he takes two strides to stand closer to his dad. “You can’t be serious!”
“You can’t make me transfer. You can’t,” I plead.
“This is not up for negotiation, Monroe. You’re not safe on your own and I’m a man of my word. You’ll be attending Sable Lakes, end of conversation.”
“Please don’t do this.” I grab hold of his arm and beg, “please don’t make me go to SLU.”
He pats my hand reassuringly and looks saddened. “I’m sorry, kiddo, but it’s what needs to happen to make sure you’re safe.”
Without uttering another word, too afraid I’ll say something I’ll regret, I retreat into my room and slam my door shut behind me. I lean against the door for support as I breathe through my rage. I know I have no say in this, it’s just the way this family operates.
My hopes and dreams of following in my mom’s footsteps have gone up in a puff of smoke, as though it was never even a thought to begin with. All my plans to drive across the country in one final road trip in an ode to my parents, also gone. To say I’m fucking livid is an understatement.
“What I say goes, do you understand me?” Papa V. raises his voice. “She’ll live in the manor with you three and if I hear one fucking complaint, I will revoke all privileges. Do you understand?”
“Do I have a fucking choice?” Sin barks back extra loud to make sure I can hear. “I’m out. Fuck this shit.”
I hear their murmured voices as they wait for the elevator to arrive, Sin no doubt bitching about the turn of events and how I will now ruin his college years having to live under his roof. Sinking to the floor, I wrap my arms around my knees, close my eyes and lean my head against the door. Thoughts of running away come to mind but Papa V. would just send his men after me to bring me back. I’m stuck in this family that I don’t belong to whether I want to be here or not and it feels claustrophobic and suffocating.
All I ever wanted was to find myself on my own terms, away from all this mafia bullshit. Away from the ties and connections of my parents. I want to be free to live my life and feel like I belong somewhere out there with people who actually want me around and don’t feel burdened by the need to keep their word.