“You don’t know that,” she hisses as the tears stream down her cheeks. “Nothing good can come from our continuing this relationship. We cannot be involved.”
I glance up with pain and heartache. “… Is that why my collar is off again?”
“Fuck off, Salvatore!” she sasses, wedging past me. I grab her arms. “Let me go!”
“You won’t kill me!” I seethe, “You love me.”
“I may love you, but we do not work. Go marry Hannah Cruz and forget I ever existed.”
I chuckle at how outlandishly crazy her words are. “I don’t want fucking Hannah Cruz.”
“She put an IUD in for you!”
“No,” I argue. “She did not. I have not, nor will I be with another woman.”
“You keep lying to yourself!” she howls in my face. “I was there. I heard it all! You’ve been fucking her for months.”
“No, Darling, I have not,” I defend. “My dick belongs to you. My heart belongs to you. I belong to you.”
“I don’t want you!”
“Gee, thanks,” I snicker, being an ass and lifting my hands. “Fine. Go.”
“So easy for you to just let me walk away…”
I cannot win this.
Damned if I fucking do…damned if I fucking don’t…
“No,” I sigh, grabbing her cheeks and kissing her lips with all the passion I have for our love. I don’t ask. I take. I claim. I conquer. Her sapphires blink as she exhales. “I love you, Iris Amarie Raniero.”
“No!” she shrieks, pushing against me. “We cannot happen!”
“If you leave, this is war, lil girl.”
Halfway down the stairs, Quinn takes her arm, and she spins back to me. “And you just lost the first battle.”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I take a protective stance and watch as Rowan opens the door and imparts a knowing look to me before they drive away.
My bitch.
Lighting a smoke, I cockily snarl, knowing Iris will reach out to her favorite playmate, Deacon Cruz. It’s just a matter of time. I’ve got my bases covered.
Just try and run, sweetheart.
Capo plays to win.
After all, a man must have some morals, and I won’t abduct my wife and our baby.
At least not yet.
100
Ride the Waves of Red
His Butterfly
“What do you mean the warehouses are empty?” I ask Masa on the phone in my posh hotel room a few days later. “They cannot just be empty.”
“The warehouses are vacant,” he mutters. “The boats are refusing to come in. We cannot move anything, which is great because we have nothing to move. Clients are getting pissed, Iris. I’m making excuses, but there is only so long I can hold them off. Everything is locked down by an invisible entity.”
“Invisible entity, my ass!” Staring out the window, I feel the tears puddle in my eyes. “Goddammit! He’s got me! And Sofu is refusing to allow me access to anything from Lotus.”
“Yes,” he concurs. “Per my instigation because you…you made a fucking mess! What exactly were you thinking about going after five targets at one time?”
I was thinking absolute domination.
But I never planned on someone (Sal) sneaking in the backdoor and shutting my ass down while it was happening.
“FUCK!” I scream. “Are you with him or me?”
He belligerently asks, “Which him?”
“Sal Raniero!” I yell, picking up a French fry and dipping it in the ketchup. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”
“All the fucks in the world won’t save you now.”
No, only fucking one motherfucker will.
Clicking the end, I pummel my phone across the room, and it hits the wall with a thud. Quinn emerges from the adjoining room. “Is there a problem, Iris?”
“Yes! There is a fucking problem!” I heave and collapse to my knees. I look like a wild woman with my hair strewn out. I haven’t showered in days. I haven’t eaten in days. “Raniero is shutting me down.”
“He desperately loves you,” he implores, pouring a cup of coffee. “You have done a good many things recently, which may be viewed as…”
“Don’t say it,” I interject, standing for another round. “I am guarding this baby with everything I have!”
“But you’re mistaken in thinking you have to do it alone,” he contends, sitting on the sofa in his casual clothes, which seems odd. “Where is it written that you must be a strong enough woman to do it all?”
“Men do!” I burst, extending my arms wide as I blow up like a firecracker on a hot July night. “They do it all the time—succeed and smoke a cigar afterward while some hoochie gyrates on their laps!”
“Are you in need of a lap dance?” he offers. “I can call Sparkle and Shine.”
“Argh! No! I do not need a lap dance!” I howl. “I am failing everything—my business, my personal life, everything is fucking wrecked!”
“No,” he coolly counters. “You think men have it all together because you are a woman. The reality is much different. Real men admire how much you can withstand, but neither of those boys expects you to be the Lotus and a mother without assistance. You are making that choice, not them. I won’t have you believing for a single second that you are alone in this. You created chaos…”
I crumble. “Whose side are you on?”
“I am, as always, on the side of the unborn child,” he soothingly says, smiling. “You asked for my help. Out of respect and love for the sons, I came running by your side, but I won’t lie to you, Iris. I won’t tell you the things you did were in good taste.”
“You’ll judge my moves but not the morality?”
“The morality isn’t in my hands,” he whispers with wisdom and grace. “I am only the messenger.”
“You brought the cavalry of Sanctum…his Sanctum…one holds the treasury, and the other one is about to do their dirty work…their Sanctum.”
“Admit you came to Boston to lure the son home, Iris. Stop getting distracted by his dark charms because of your self-doubts. You brought him home. Let the natural course of things take their place if you don’t want him. Let him become Cesario’s son.”
His words piss me off because I know exactly what he means. Letting Sal become “Cesario’s son” would be the absolute worst thing. He isn’t scum. He is mine.
“Pack your bags,” I order, drying my tears with my hand. “We’ll leave at midnight.”
Leaving the room, I spend the rest of the afternoon taking a nap and soaking in the bath. I am dozing when Rowan walks in. “Thank heavens. You are resting.”
She sits on the floor, and I grab her hand. “Are you going to France with me?”
“Oui, Mademoiselle!”
Stroking her fingers, I grin. “I cannot wait to be away from all of the crazy.”
“I know,” she consoles. “We will be in less than six hours.”
“I’ll be ready.”
I smile. “Thank you for everything, Maeve.”
“You’re welcome, Mistress.” She winks. “I only wish I could open you a bottle.”
“Six months.”
“No time at all.” She kisses my cheek. “If you’re not out of here by ten, I’ll come to get you.”
“Okay,” I lazily say. “What time is it?”
“Five after eight,” she replies before leaving. I pick up my phone—no messages—from anyone. Guilt hits as I know I need to tell Deacon goodbye. Sal’s came in the form of a fuck off. And neither asshole has bothered to check on me. I have successfully alienated myself.
Good job, Dandy.
I send a quick text because he’s my best friend. Because I care about him. “I’m leaving tonight for France. Please don’t come looking for me. I need to be alone for a while. I love you. Goodbye, Deacon.”
His response is instant. “Are you going to Les Pétales?”
“Yes.”
“Trudy, Serene, and the kids are there,” he swiftly re
plies. “So, you might want to consider going somewhere else.”
Fuck.
Really, Raniero?
Asshole!
As ridiculous as it sounds, there is no place else for me to go. The Chairman is undoubtedly pissed, and everywhere else in the world is occupied by Sal-fucking-Raniero. He is taking stalking to a next-level epic by blockading my every move.
“I cannot marry him.”
A few seconds later, he texts, “Marry me.”
“I need away from him, and marrying you doesn’t solve this. I only become an inconvenience for you then.”
“You were never an inconvenience, Iris. I promised you that I would take care of you and the baby, and I will if you want me to.”
My tears come on like a sudden summer storm, full of volatile heat and rage. And then, like a single ray of light in the dark clouds, I find enlightenment and understand there is only one way out.
One final declaration before I raise the white flag and surrender to the mofo bastard.
Unless I want to attempt to disappear and stay on the run like Henney did for years. I won’t…I can’t do that to my baby. I am out of options. He wins. Game over.
My lip trembles as I yell, “… Rowan?”
“Yes, Ma’am?”
“Can you go get me a latte and a chocolate croissant from the coffee shop across the street?”
She gives a scrutinizing eye as she peeks around the edge of the door. “Are you going to eat?”
“Yes,” I lie, smiling. “I have to start thinking about the baby.”
It’s all I’ve been doing—thinking about the baby and the man I love.
“Give me ten minutes.”
“Where is Quinn?”
“He’s having dinner with Father Altromessa at the church.”
“Oh, I’ll be fine,” I mutter, acting fearful and waving her off. “I got this. You won’t be gone long.”
The only thing I am scared of is Sal-fucking-Raniero.
My feet hit the tile floor the moment the door shuts. I rush to dry off and toss on my jeans, hoodie, and ball cap. I don’t bother with a bra or a shirt. I slip on my shoes and grab my purse. Rushing through the hallway to the stairwell, I zip the jacket.
Q may be gone, but the hotel is crawling with a dozen priests from Sanctum. They’re here to ensure Sal understands his loyalty is in Boston. They’re here to ensure he honors his family. They’re here to ensure Sal holds by his commitment to The Commission.
He is a Raniero.
I creep around to the front of the hotel and slide into the first taxi cab I find. I give the driver the address as a queasy feeling churns in my gut.
On the way, I glare out the window, trying to come to terms with the decisions I am making for my baby. There is no peace in the mafia.
This baby was bred and born into red.
This baby will be raised in red.
I am swallowed by the crimson tides of an ocean I cannot control.
My eyes shutter closed as tears fall from my lashes. I pay the driver and hide in a darkened alcove behind some bushes where I can see the parking lot. The SUV from last night is there, and when I see Quinn leave, I wait another five minutes before going inside.
I must be quick and careful because Sal is good.
One-shot.
One pull of the trigger.
One heartbeat silenced for my baby’s survival.
Breathe, baby. Breathe.
Lurking inside the unlocked side door, I tiptoe through the church to the cathedral. The restoration is magnificent, and not a single memory of that night six months ago remains. A lingering scent of frankincense and myrrh fills the air as the dim sconces add to the spiritual mysticism.
Entering the pew, I take a seat on the edge near the wall as I hear his words. “Always keep your front or your back against something.”
I take the rosary and the gun from my purse. In a contradicting, uncharacteristic move, I kneel and contemplate ending it all—how profound it would be. I think of the letter I composed to Quinn.
I told him not only of the night when I was two but of the moments getting off the ship from Guam. I wanted the boys to understand how betrayed I was by it all—their fathers and my own family—and I chose Father Quinn to deliver the message.
“You will find peace one day when you least expect it, Iris,” Aki said at the front door. There was no happy family reunion or catching up over tea. “But you must accept things are not always what they seem.”
“Yes, Baba.”
“Do you wish to be the Lotus?”
“It is my fate.”
Immediately, two of her servants appeared, dragging me by my arms to the cold chambers. They stripped my clothes and led me to the stained bathroom. I remember the brown stains from blood on the tile walls and the smell of piss and vomit. The light buzzed overhead, and I peered up through teary eyes to the bug-infested shade.
This was what I signed up for—this is who I was to become—before I would be wrapped in silk and skilled with sharps, the gritty and raw truths manifested like a bubbling pustule aching for release.
“A woman must be pure and clean for service.”
The brittle pads scoured over my skin mere hours after being trapped in the crate. They gagged my throat with their brushes, violently douched my womb, and sabotaged any remaining memory of my sacred spot with their callous hands and stony hearts. I had never had anyone but Deacon and Sal in my rear.
I was…
Violated. Humiliated. Degraded.
“Welcome to the palace, Lotus, let my servants cleanse your orifices so that you can be pure and clean for service.”
Serve the boy’s club…
I remember the unpleasantness of my stench as their fingers circled round and round with nozzles and tubes, sanitizing—baptizing—my flowers. I crashed to the floor of the shower stalls, hysterical with mania as I fought through the chaos—the harshness of their hinderance and the beautiful bounty awaiting on the other side of misery.
Three times per day for three weeks, I endured the torture before I ever saw Aki again. And it would be another six weeks before I would be deemed fit to meet with The Chairman.
Tears cascade from my eyes as the questions have no real answers. What is justice? What is vengeance? What is fair? What is right? And where does ritual and ancestry and heritage weave into it enough to be excused?
“May I help you?” Father Altromessa asks. “Are you in need of confession, child?”
“Yes,” I sob. “I am.”
“You’re Iris…”
I blink to him. “Yes.”
“You’re The Lotus.”
“Yes.”
My name will be the last words on your slithering tongue, you nefarious beast.
He wedges his portly frame into the seat beside me as I stare at the stained-glass depictions of Mary in a holy land.
I am Iris in an unholy land.
The ornately carved wooden altar would’ve served as a splendid place for a wedding…to a man…who should never have been involved with me.
“You’re not Catholic…”
“I am nothing,” I vacantly reply, full of lies. I am the Medusa in the pit of snakes…I am the wretched witch in the vault…I am the taboo temptress in the tomb. And Quinn baptized me, you fucker. Welcome to hell. “I am no one.”
“Iris!” Sal yells with a low rumble, rushing inside as I see Deacon by the door. This place triggers him—this much I know—and I cannot blame him. “Don’t do this, Angel!”
“Salvatore!” Father greets, turning. “How are you, my boy?”
“He’s not your boy anymore,” I warn, putting the gun to Father Jorgé Altromessa’s head as Sal stands at the end of the pew. “You assaulted my grandmother almost thirty years ago while I sat in Luca Raniero’s lap.”
Sal blinks. “Wha…”
“I heard every grunt and cry and moan and scream while Angelo Gennaro, Cesario Raniero, and you raped her for four hours. Four ho
urs, Father! Four hours! Four hours a two-year-old little girl installed that program of sin into her mind! What do you think that did to me? How warped do you think I am now?”
“… What?” Sal demands, staying close to Altromessa. I cannot decide if he will save him or me. The Priest is Sanctum, and within days, Sal will be one of their mercenaries. “Jorgé?”
“You stole her very essence!”
“I did no such thing!”
“Don’t lie to me!” I yell as Deacon backs away from the door. “Say it…”
“I did not rape Aki Nakamura.”
“I’m going to blow your motherfucking head off, Padre,” I threaten. “You have one more chance to repent for your sins.” I glance at Sal, whose eyes are black as the hours before dawn. His frame tenses, and his jaw grinds, leaving nothing to the imagination. His monster is awake. “Say it!”
“… Here?”
“You had no problems sticking your dick inside of her on her sacred marital bed,” I point out with pure hatred. “So, yes…here…in this house. Say it!”
“What we did to Aki needed to be done…”
“To keep the Nakamura’s removed from your dominion?” I rhetorically question. “Or to boost your own ego, Father?”
“Neither!”
“Don’t say you did it on behalf of someone else because I remember everything,” I command, owning this house because I speak the truth with this tongue. “Don’t you dare blame Sanctum for your actions. Saint knew. Luca knew. Quinn knew. And no one wanted to rock the boat for fear of the bloodshed that would follow. No one was brave enough.”
“I’m sorry for the loss, Iris.”
“Don’t apologize to me!” I hiss, pushing the gun harder to his temple. “I am brave enough to tell you the arrangements made on that night infected every single breath I have ever taken. I am giving up the love of my life because of that night.” Tears flow freely from my eyes like waterfalls, never stopping—never-ending. “Have some fucking balls and say it!”
“Angelo Gennaro, Cesario Raniero, and I raped Aki Nakamura to punish Lotus and push them away.”
With vindictive tears in his eyes, Sal blinks up as he tugs the gun out from his jeans and roars, “Forgive me, Father, I am going to sin…”
Diary of a Submissive (a Tomb of Ashen Tears Book 4) Page 86
