by Nicole Fox
“Then I hope you like the compound,” he tells me calmly. “Because you’re never leaving it.”
“Aren’t you concerned that there will be people out there looking for me?” I ask.
A small smile spreads across his face.
“Looking for you?” he asks pleasantly. “No, I’m not.”
Then he turns and walks out of the room, without so much as a goodbye to Evie.
Asshole.
Swallowing my feelings, I turn to Evie and give her my brightest smile. Her toys are neatly stacked in a corner.
“Nice job cleaning up, kiddo.”
“Now, we can go play?” Evie asks.
“Sure thing,” I agree. “But first, we need some fuel.”
“Huh?”
I laugh at the clueless look on her face.
Was there ever a time when I’d been that young? That innocent?
I know there was—mostly because the yearning for that long-gone time still claws at my soul every now and again when life gets to be too much to bear.
Nothing seems innocent anymore.
There are threats simmering in every shadow.
Lurking around every corner.
It’s an ugly world. I’ve known that for a long time.
But this place I’ve found myself in now might be the ugliest part of it yet.
“Breakfast, Evie,” I explain. “We need to eat our breakfast first.”
“Oh.”
“How do you feel about caramelized French toast?”
And just like that, the smile is back on her angelic face.
Maybe there’s one ray of light amidst all this darkness after all.
Lucio
Later That Afternoon—Lucio’s Office
“So, judging by the reports from our capo in the Bronx—”
“Have the rooms been prepared?” I ask suddenly, cutting Adriano off completely.
He breaks off mid-sentence, his eyebrows rising in confusion for a moment.
“Uh, what?”
“The rooms,” I repeat. “For Charlotte and Evie.”
The creases on Adriano’s forehead get more pronounced.
“I don’t know, Lucio,” he says. “Is that really more important than this shit with the Polish?”
He was right in the middle of updating me on the new intelligence we’d gotten on the Polish. This was serious fucking shit.
And I’m asking about stuff I really shouldn’t be concerned about at all.
So why the fuck am I?
“No,” I say convincingly. “It’s not. But I need to get my house in order first.”
Adriano hesitates for a second. He’s known me long enough to know when to push and when to leave me alone.
“Yeah, of course, man,” he says. “But we can’t underestimate the Polish. They’ve been moving in on Mazzeo borders for a while now. And the new intel I’ve got says they’ve been seen crossing a few times.”
“They’re selling shit on my turf?” I ask, incredulous.
“That’s what I was getting to,” Adriano says. “Reports say yes. We can’t let that go unanswered.”
“No,” I agree. “We can’t.”
I glance towards the bar in the corner of my office. I’m craving a glass of bourbon right now, but I choose to blame the craving on my insomnia.
“Did you get any sleep last night?” Adriano asks.
“Some.”
“So no?”
I give him a rueful smile. “I’ll sleep tonight.”
“Like hell you will,” he retorts. “I can get you pills.”
“I don’t need a pill to sleep,” I say defensively.
“Relying on pills doesn’t make you weak.”
“Fuck off,” I say with finality. “I’m not taking a goddamn sleeping pill.”
He shakes his head in laughing dismay. “For God’s sake, you’re a fucking masochist.”
“It’s a requirement to be don.”
“Touché,” Adriano admits. “Then you’re the right man for the job.”
We laugh for a moment, the way only old friends can laugh together.
But it doesn’t last long.
Soon, the smile slides off my face.
“Put eyes around town,” I instruct Adriano. “Make sure we get daily updates. If the Polish cross territory lines again… we’ll have to have a little tête-à-tête.”
“Is that French?”
“It’s—”
“I’m kidding,” Adriano interrupts. “I know what it means. I’m not as dumb as I look.”
“That’d be impossible,” I growl.
He just winks and laughs. Meanwhile, my eyes flicker to the bar again.
Adriano catches the motion. “Something wrong?” he asks.
“Hm?” I force my eyes back to my best friend.
“Is something bothering you?” he repeats.
I shake my head. “No.”
“You look like you could use a drink.”
The man has always been observant as fuck. An asset when it comes to the Mazzeo mafia’s business.
But a fucking pain in the ass when it comes to my personal affairs.
“Maybe a small one,” I admit.
“You never drink during the day” Adriano points out. “…unless there’s something on your mind.”
“You need to get a life,” I tell him. “And get out of mine.”
Adriano smiles, completely unfazed. “It’s the girl, isn’t it?” he deduces.
“Which one?”
“I fucking knew it!”
I roll my eyes.
“Just fuck her and get it over with,” Adriano suggests amicably. “And as for the kid… there are ways you can provide for her and see that she’s taken care of without actually having her on the compound with you.”
“Is that so?” I reply. “Wasn’t aware you were a childcare expert, mio amico.”
“I’ll do some research and get back to you on that front,” he says. “But that only takes care of one half of your problem.”
“Charlotte is not a problem,” I clarify. “She’s just… amusing. For the time being. It’ll fade.”
“I’m sure it will—once you fuck her.”
He really is the classic example of a one-track mind.
“I need her babysitting services a fuck ton more than I need her pussy at the moment,” I tell him. “And if I want sex, there’s plenty of women who’ll willingly spread their legs for me.”
“Ah-ha,” he hums like a goddamn therapist. “So that’s the attraction, eh?”
I glare at him. I hate when he tries to psychoanalyze me.
“Adriano…” I warn.
He pays me no mind.
“She resists you. She spars with you. She fights back. And you’ve always liked a challenge.”
I grit my teeth. Charlotte has used up all of my patience. I don’t have much left for my irritating best friend.
“And hey, let’s not dismiss the obvious,” Adriano continues, ignoring my annoyance completely. “…She’s hot as fuck.”
My cock twitches just thinking about her tight little body, soaking wet and slathered with soap as she showered.
Every time I close my eyes, I see her shaved pussy, her taut nipples, the slope of her flat stomach.
And all I want to do is have her strip naked in front of me again.
All I want to do is fuck her into submission.
“I’ve seen better.”
“Where?” Adriano challenges. “In an illustration?”
“Tiffany had amazing tits,” I say, trying to sound convincing.
“Her tits were fake and we both know it,” he shoots back. “I’m not some moron you met yesterday. I’ve been around a while, brother. I know what turns you off. I know what turns you on. Looks have never been enough for you. You’ve always wanted fire.”
Is he right?
Is that the reason I convinced myself that Charlotte was the only woman for the job?
No. That’s not
the only reason.
“She’s good with Evie,” I tell Adriano as I recall this morning with a strangely heavy feeling in my gut. “Really fucking good. They were together all of five minutes and the kid was practically talking her ear off.”
“So now you’ve got yourself a hot nanny, huh? Fucking hell, some guys have all the luck.”
I ignore him, as per usual. “She carries around this little plush toy,” I muse, half to him and half to myself. “It’s a platypus.”
“What exactly is a platypus? Is that French?”
“Cazze Madre de Dio, you ignorant idiot!” I groan. “Crack open a fucking book, or at the very least turn on the TV from time to time.”
“Googling now,” Adriano replies as he taps away at his laptop. “I’ll be damned. She likes these ugly little shits?”
“She’s smart,” I tell him. “Bright. Curious. Talkative. But all of that shuts right down whenever I enter the room.”
Adriano falls silent for a moment, reading the sudden change in my mood.
“She needs time to get used to you, Lucio,” he says gently.
I shake my head. “She reminded me of myself at that age. I did the same thing whenever my father walked into a room.”
“You’re not him.”
“Apparently, I am.”
“Okay, so then change it.”
I glance at him, trying to follow his train of thought.
“If you don’t want to be like your father, then don’t be like him,” Adriano elaborates. “Be the father you wish you had growing up.”
“I don’t know the first thing about being a dad.”
“Just do the opposite of what your old man did,” Adriano suggests. “That’s probably a good place to start.”
“Fuck,” I mumble. “I’m not ready for this shit.”
“You never imagined having kids?”
I think about that for a second.
“No,” I admit. “It wasn’t really something I thought about. And even if I had, this is not the way I would have imagined it turning out.”
Adriano looks at me sympathetically. “Hey, I get it man. Life never turns out the way you want it. Well, except for mine. My life is fucking awesome.”
“Tell us more,” I drawl sarcastically. “We’re all dying to know.”
He leans back in his seat, chuckling, eyes bright. “I’m meeting Candace tonight.”
“Candace? Che cazzo.”
“What? She’s hot.”
“She’s dumber than a bag of rocks.”
Adriano shakes his head. “So? I’m not in it for the fucking conversation. The woman knows her way around my cock.”
“And every other cock in the tri-state area, no doubt.”
“You’re just jealous.”
“Of what?” I demand.
“Of the fact that I’m gonna get laid tonight and you’re gonna get cock-blocked by your own kid.”
I grit my teeth. “I’m not planning on fucking the girl,” I tell him. “She’s just the nanny.”
“Yeah, okay, pal. You keep telling yourself that,” he says. He’s grinning at me like the self-satisfied moron he loves pretending to be. “You know, Candace has this friend. Name’s Valeria. She’s—”
“No.”
“But—”
“No.”
“Fine, fine,” Adriano sighs. “Your loss.”
“I need to make some calls,” I tell him. “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”
His stupid grin stays on his face even as the door shuts on him.
When he’s gone, I get out of my seat and walk to the bar. I pour myself some bourbon and take a sip.
The flavor is strong and rich. It soothes me for a few glorious seconds.
And then the taste dissipates on my tongue. Fades away.
And I’m back to square one. Nothing solved. Nothing changed.
I leave the bourbon unfinished at the bar and head back to my desk. It couldn’t be more different from the one my father had used while he’d been don.
His was bulky and elaborate, made of heavy wood and stained midnight-dark.
The day after his funeral, I’d chopped it to tiny pieces and fed them one by one into the fireplace.
The new one that stands in its place is much different. Sleek, straightforward, useful.
If there’s some fucking metaphor in that switch, I choose to ignore it.
But Adriano’s words are still ringing in my head.
Be the father you wish you had growing up.
I’d been quick to dismiss it, but they’re resonating with me.
I’ve spent years beating back the shadow of my father’s legacy. Even as I grow to look more and more like him every day, I rage against that. Against what he tried to force me to become.
I’m not him.
I will never be him.
And I’ll never forgive him for what he did to us.
But I’ll figure this out the same as I’ve figured out everything else I’ve done since he died. Even if I don’t have the first clue where to start.
And I’ll do it the way I’ve done everything else in my life.
On my own.
9
Charlotte
THREE DAYS LATER—IN THE GARDEN OF THE MAZZEO MANSION
A tall shadow emerges from the corner of the garden.
I turn, my hopes burgeoning pathetically.
I’m looking for dark hair and gray eyes.
Then the man steps into my line of vision.
Tall? Yes.
But his hair is fair and his eyes are a watery blue.
The fact that I’m disappointed at that only makes me hate myself.
“Hey, Enzo,” I say, covering up my discontent. “Knew you couldn’t stay away from me for long.”
I can’t help the bitter note that slips into my voice.
He barely restrains himself from rolling his eyes. “The name is Lorenzo,” he corrects for the dozenth time this week.
“I like Enzo better.”
He just scowls at me.
“Evie!” I call out. “Our jailer is here.”
We’ve spent most of the evening in the garden. Evie loves being outdoors. The kid has an endless supply of energy when it comes to chasing around butterflies.
She can watch a chameleon change color again and again for over an hour.
She can carry a tune with the birds hopping around on the grass.
The more time I spend with her, the more I love her.
Which is the worst possible thing that could have happened.
“Evie?” I repeat when she doesn’t answer.
“I’m over here!” Her voice is coming through from between the rose bushes.
“Whatcha doing, princess?”
“Counting caterpillars.”
“If they’re the hairy kind, don’t touch them,” I instruct, panicking just a little.
“I know that!”
Of course she knows.
I glance over to Enzo, who’s squinting in the direction of the rose bushes.
“Kid’s pretty dang smart,” I remark, mostly to myself.
To my surprise, Enzo nods. “Yeah, I’ve noticed.”
“Have you?”
“My job is to follow the two of you around all day,” he says in a less-than-enthusiastic tone. “Noticing shit comes with the territory.”
“What have you noticed about me?” I ask, turning to him and squaring my shoulders.
“You?” he says thoughtfully. “You are trouble.”
A grin splits across my face. “Wow. High praise.”
He gives me a grudging smile and whistles loudly.
“Hey, kid,” he calls. “The sun’s going down. Get your butt over here.”
“Give her a second,” I tell him without masking the annoyance in my tone. “She’s counting caterpillars. Important stuff.”
He rolls his eyes just as Evie scrambles through the rose bushes and runs towards me. Her hands are smeared with dir
t.
She looks sweaty, dusty—and happy as a clam.
Guess I’m doing my job right.
Somehow, I have a feeling that Lucio Mazzeo would disagree.
But whatever. Fuck him. He isn’t here.
And he hasn’t been here for several days now. Two, going on three.
Not that I was waiting on him or anything.
But he did say he would check in every now and again.
I guess that makes him a liar as well as an abductor.
I’m not surprised in the least.
“How many did you find?” I ask as Evie comes to a stop in front of me.
“Eight!” she says, jumping up and down. “I named them.”
“All eight of them?” I gasp. “Awesome. You can tell me their names while we clean ourselves up.”
“Okay,” she says happily. “Hi, Enzo.”
He glares at her. “Lor-enzo.”
She shakes her head. “I like Enzo better.”
I laugh as Enzo turns his back on us, muttering under his breath. Evie glances up at me and gives me a smile that I like to think she reserves just for me.
I offer her an appreciative wink in return. My little co-conspirator.
“That’s my girl.”
As we walk back towards the palatially modern house, Evie slips her crusty, soot-covered hand into mine.
And I don’t mind one bit.
When Evie and I re-emerge from shower time in her bathroom, I notice that there’s a tray of sandwiches on the little white table wedged into a corner of her room.
“I was gonna make us dinner,” I tell Enzo.
“Yeah, well, it’s past seven,” he points out. “I’m supposed to lock you in at eight.”
I grit my teeth. “You can make an exception for one night.”
“You’ve met the boss,” Enzo replies. “He’s not one for exceptions.”
“Okay, fine,” I huff. “Evie, say goodnight to the prison warden.”
“Goodnight, Enzo.”
He gives her a smile that, despite his best efforts, is genuinely warm. “Buona notte, kid.”
Then he walks out of the room and I see the lock turn, shutting us in for the night. I sigh and glance towards Evie.
“Okay,” I say. “Let’s eat.”
Once Evie’s happily full and changed into pajamas, I tuck her into the canopied bed that faces the box windows.
