Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
Fabien
The present
Sienna spins on her heel, ready to storm inside the house, but I hop up and throw her over my shoulder. “Put me down!”
“Not until you listen to every goddamn word I have to say,” I warn her.
Fabien
Twenty-one-years-old
My knuckles rap on Vitto’s door. I’m supposed to pick Sienna up after class, and I’m hoping whatever song and dance my old man’s about to make me do won’t take long.
“Enter,” he calls, his voice paper-thin.
I slip into his former office, the beeping of medical equipment the only sound as Papà lies still as the dead. Shit, is he dead? “You summoned me, Papà?” I give his shoulder a gentle shake.
Peeling his eyes open, he silently lifts his hand, constrained by the IV cord, and taps a manila envelope on the bedside table.
My stomach enters freefall when I open it. “What’s this?”
“What if fucking says. A marriage alliance.”
“I’m not agreeing to this,” I start.
“You’ll agree to it if you want to be boss.”
“Who could be boss besides me? Coked up Michele? All the other capos have one foot in the grave…” I trail off.
“Like me, boy?”
I choose silence.
“Did you really think I would face death with no plan? Wheels are in motion for your brother’s return, should you choose to defy me on this.”
“Angelo?” I sputter. “Mr. Ivy League’s not even a made man. He doesn’t have the backbone to run this family. It’d be a disaster.”
“No bigger a disaster than you taking the most lucrative whore for yourself and parading her around as your girl. Discretion, my boy,” he chides. “Angelo has it. You do not.”
“Leave Sienna out of this,” I say through my teeth. “And why do we even need this alliance with,” I pause, scanning the contract. “Baltimore?”
“This marriage will make your mama happy. God knows she deserves it.”
“So because you were a shitty husband, I have to pay for it?” I say hotly.
“Careful, Fabien. We both know that you don’t have a backbone, either,” he taunts.
My chin lifts. “I won’t do it.”
“Then your brother will be boss. Have fun taking your marching orders from him. I’m sure Angelo won’t hold a grudge.”
“You’re the one who drove a wedge between my brother and me,” I grit. “Always comparing me to him. Always telling me how smart he is and what an idiot I am.”
“And I stand by that assessment.”
“Fuck you,” I spit.
“Too late to grow that backbone,” Vitto tsks. “What’s it going to be? Boss or bitch to your little brother?”
“Boss,” I say in a resigned tone.
But fuck his terms. I will be the boss with my rightful queen by my side, if I have to slit Vitto’s cancerous throat and steal the throne.
Fabien
The present
“The marriage contract was sprung on me right before I met my ‘fiancée’ at the lounge. Couldn’t have picked the woman out of a lineup before then. Baby, I hated treating you like that, but I needed time to work out a plan.”
“Riveting,” Sienna says in a bored tone as I place her on the couch, but she’s not fooling me, not with that slight tremor of her hands.
I take a seat beside her, and she scoots away from me. I move over, and she moves again, and again, until she’s at the edge of the couch with nowhere to go.
“Do you have to be this close?” Sienna narrows her eyes at me.
“I’m not letting you leave until you hear me out.”
“What’s left to say?” Sienna releases a heavy sigh.
“A hell of a lot. Who told you I shot Ringer because of my fiancée?”
“I overheard Michele…” She trails off.
“And who told you that I’d be at the lounge?”
Her head hits the back of the couch. “Anonymous text.”
“So Michele,” I growl.
“Even if he did set you up, you gave him the material to do it,” she spits.
“Do you know how it gutted me, hearing that you married that asshole?” I grip Sienna by the chin, jerking her face inches from mine.
Her eyes burn with fury. “Good. Then you got a little taste of how I felt.”
“Ask me why I shot the fed.”
Sienna
The present
“Fabien, I don’t care why you shot the fed,” I lie, trying to keep the memory at bay.
Except panic’s already hijacked my nervous system. My heart rate increases. My breathing becomes shallow. I’m being dragged back into the alley…
Sienna
Eighteen-years-old
A reprieve in the torrential downpour allows me to admire my handiwork on Fabien’s car.
Something darts out from behind the dumpster, and I startle. A feral cat hisses at me, and I squeal, placing a hand over my heart.
“Was I right, or was I right?” Ringer appears, and the cat scurries away. His eyes drop, and I cross my arms over my chest, my soaking dress clinging to my breasts like a second skin.
“Congrats, Ringer. You want a cookie?” I take off down the alley, but I can feel footsteps behind me.
I turn around, but Ringer’s already on me, shoving my back against the brick wall with his forearm crushing my windpipe.
“What I want is a little more respect from that smart mouth of yours, Cherry.” His eyes are two black coals as his thin lips lift into a smirk.
“My name’s Sienna, and you know who I belong to.” A lie; I never belonged to Fabien. My heart feels like it’s being ripped out of my chest at the realization.
“Still lying to yourself, eh? You’re the kind of girl you fuck in back rooms; not the kind you bring home to mama and papà.”
His words hit the mark, my chest burning nearly as badly as my obstructed airway. “Go fuck yourself.”
Ringer’s nostrils flare. “How about I fuck you instead, you dirty whore?”
“I’ll scream.” The threat has no teeth, not with my voice nearly gone with his crushing my windpipe.
That gets a chuckle out of him. “And who will come to your rescue? Fabien acted like he didn’t even know you.
” I flinch like I’ve taken a brick to the face.
“Girls like you get used and broken, the next whore ready and willing to take her place.” He presses his forearm harder, and my vision begins to spot. “Let’s see how fast I can break you.”
My knee rams into his balls, and he stumbles back with a curse. Taking off in a dead sprint, I’m nearly out of the alley when arms band around me, and I’m taken to the ground.
It’s a struggle, but Ringer’s stronger, and now he’s on top of me. A rip sounds, and my dress is torn, my panties gone.
“Help!”
The back of his hand connects with my cheek, and I hiss in a sharp breath as he struggles to get his pants down.
“Please stop,” I beg, a sob bubbling in my chest.
That rewards me with a closed fist punch to the temple, and my eyes roll back in my head.
Darkness.
Pain.
Darkness.
Cigarette breath.
Darkness.
Something hard inside me.
Sharp pain.
Stop! I scream. Did I scream?
Awful grunting sound.
Darkness pulls me back under.
Second line to heaven.
Funeral ensemble.
Black veil.
Puckered fabric.
“Breathe.” Fabien runs his hand up and down my back, and it takes me a second to realize I’m in his arms, having a full-fledged panic attack. “Four counts in, six counts out. Let’s go. One. Two. Three. Four.”
I inhale to four, and Fabien counts me down to six as I slowly exhale.
We do three rounds before I try to scramble off his lap, but he wraps his arms around me tightly.
“You’re not going anywhere.”
“Where do you get off telling me what to do?” My voice comes out smaller than I’d like, but at least it has an edge of attitude.
“That’s my girl,” he says softly.
“I’m not—”
“I. Fucking. Watched. It. Happen.”
Fabien
Twenty-one-years-old
The band drones on, my “fiancée” drones on, our mothers’ small talk drones on, all the while my girl believes that I’m a piece of shit.
I blow out a frustrated breath. This god-awful “date” needs to come to an end so that I can explain myself to Sienna.
I’m still a persuasive guy.
Hopefully.
Scrolling through my messages with Nic, there’s no update, like, oops, sorry I lost track of your girl, the one I was supposed to be watching. My thumbs hammer out a text.
How’s it going?
I popped out to grab dinner for like a second, and Sienna took off without a word! Left her phone at the apartment. But don’t worry, I’ve got the entire crew out looking for her. We’ll find her!!!!!
Sienna left the hotel minutes ago, likely on foot. Pick her up, and I swear to God, if you let her out of your sight again, I’m going to cut off your balls and force-feed them to you as your dinner.
Understood.
Unless Sienna doubled back and is waiting to lay into me a second time?
I go to rise, my mama shooting me a warning look. “Be right back,” I announce, working my way through the lounge. I don’t spot Sienna, and after speaking to the front desk clerk, she hasn’t seen her, either.
Hustling outside, I run into Ringer beneath the portico, who’s drenched and looking more unkept than usual. That’s saying something.
“Umbrella?” He offers his.
“You seen my girl?” I accept the umbrella, popping it open.
“Which one?”
“Sienna,” I grit through my teeth.
“Can’t say that I have.”
“If you run into her, let me know.”
“Sure thing.” Amusement flickers in his beady little eyes.
Something feels off as I hustle around the building, and that’s when I notice my car, and a sardonic breath escapes me. Now that’s my girl’s handiwork.
Looking around, a frown pulls my lips.
But no trace of her.
Tossing Ringer’s umbrella, I return inside the lounge. Seated at “his” booth, the fed tips his glass of whiskey in my direction. A glass that my dime pays to keep bottomless.
When I’m boss, my first order of business will be marrying Sienna, and second, getting rid of this little weasel.
I return to my seat next to my ‘fiancée,’ and it’s not lost on me that this is mine and Sienna’s table.
Damn, I’ve got some groveling to do.
My mama gives me a reproachful look, one I ignore as I scroll through my messages. I pull up the message thread from Nic, my heart rate spiking.
Still haven’t found her yet.
“I’ve got business I need to handle. We’ll have to call this a night.” I rise from the table and hustle out, with three women shooting daggers at me.
Take a number, ladies.
I sprint to my car and slide behind the wheel, tearing up the streets of NOLA.
School. Closed.
Sewing shop. Closed.
The snowball shop. No sign of her.
The sandwich shop. No Sienna.
Ms. Gail. Hasn’t heard from her.
Our apartment. Empty.
In a panic, I pull up the security feed at our place and rewind the footage. I watch as Sienna and Nic enter the apartment, and I press play.
Fucking chicken wings and a six-pack, I’ll serve that at my cousin’s wake.
My phone buzzes, and I eagerly fish it out of my pocket, hoping it’s her.
There is no business more important than this marriage alliance. Get to the house now, or I will assume you’re getting your knees ready for your brother.
Years of conditioning, of being beaten down, both mentally and physically, have me replying to Vitto like the little bitch that I really am.
I’m on my way.
Self-loathing seeps into my bloodstream as I come to heel.