by Nicole Fox
“You heard me,” I continue, riding my rage deeper into this hole. “You did this so you could have more control over me. Just another fucking mind game.”
I’m burning hotter and hotter.
But Lucio, by contrast, is getting icier with every passing second. Those eyes of his are hardened glaciers.
“That’s really what you think?” he asks.
“Men like you don’t do anything for no reason,” I reply. “Men like you don’t do favors just to be nice. There’s always an ulterior motive. Always. Always, always, always.”
Lucio cocks his head to the side. His gray eyes are frigid, so cold that I shiver imperceptibly. I feel my bravado wither.
“You want to know what I think?” he asks, taking a step towards me.
The air between us is charged. But not with the usual sexual tension that I’ve come to expect.
This tension is all anger. All frustration.
“I think that you’re so fucking insecure about who you are that it’s easier to blame me than blame yourself,” he says.
Ouch.
I deserve it, but it hurts all the same.
“I think you’re so damn terrified of failing that you don’t even want to try,” he continues, pouring salt into the fresh wound. “I think that is what makes you like your mother. You settle, so you don’t ever have to be disappointed when you reach for something and don’t get it.”
Fucking ouch.
I feel tears spark at the corners of my eyes. I know I need to get away from him.
I don’t want him to see me cry.
I push past him, my shoulder slamming into the side of his body as I make for the door.
“You’re an asshole,” I hurl, trying to keep my voice strong.
But I know he can hear the sob between my words.
I hear it, too.
39
Lucio
The Next Evening
I avoid Charlotte most of the day. Or maybe she’s avoiding me.
Whichever it is, I manage to get through twenty hours without so much as catching a glimpse of the nanny who’s driving me fucking insane.
Which would have been okay with me.
Except that meant I didn’t see my daughter, either.
And I won’t see her until tomorrow, when she returns from her first sleepover. She’d pled with me for permission until I’d finally relented.
But I have Enzo keeping tabs on her all the same.
Which just leaves Charlotte.
I press my head back against the leather armchair and stare up at the ceiling. She’s up there somewhere, a floor above. Probably cursing me out.
I still can’t figure out where the night had gone so wrong. I thought she’d love the gesture, and I also happened to think she deserved it.
But apparently, she disagreed.
And that’s the whole fucking problem.
My cell phone starts ringing. I pick up, thankful for the distraction.
“Mazzeo.”
“Buonasera, Lucio.”
“Mother?” I say in alarm. I’m surprised to hear from her so soon after a Sunday dinner. Usually, she likes to spread out her calls as much as possible. “What’s wrong?”
“Wrong?” she repeats, sounding confused. “Nothing’s wrong. I just called to say hello.”
“Oh.” I frown. “Okay.”
“How’s the girl?”
“Her name is Evie.”
“Right, yes. Is it short for something?”
“Evelyn.”
“A terrible name.”
I almost snort with laughter. “Yeah, well, I didn’t pick it.”
“Evie suits her better.”
“I agree.”
“How is she?”
I pause. “She’s doing good,” I say finally. “She started school last week and she’s already made a new friend.”
“That’s good. I’m glad she has friends. It’s not good to be so isolated.”
I wonder if she can hear the irony in her words.
“Evie’s never alone,” I tell her. “She’s always got company.”
“You’re referring to the pretty little nanny you hired?”
Do I detect judgement or am I just reading too much into her tone?
“Yes, she has Charlotte,” I reply. “And Enzo. And me.”
“You’re all adults. Your experience is different from hers. It’s important to spend time with people who understand. Children her own age.”
This feels like the deepest conversation we’ve had in months. Maybe even years.
Something tugs at my heart. Not sympathy or guilt or anything like that. It might not even have a name.
But whatever it is, it pulls words out of me that I hadn’t intended to say.
“You know, Mother, you can come over and spend some time with Evie one day.”
I know instantly that it was a mistake.
I can practically sense the frigid chill passing over her face at the offer.
“Oh, Lucio… I’m no good with children.”
No shit, Mother.
“She’s your granddaughter,” I say icily.
“Yes. That she is. I’ll see her at the next dinner.”
I suppress a sigh. Why do I even fucking bother?
That nameless feeling is gone. In its place is the same thing I always feel when I talk to my mother: nothing at all.
“Goodnight, son.”
“Goodnight, Mother.”
The line goes dead and I put the phone down.
One fucking conversation with my mother and I’m exhausted.
I’m also hungry. I’ve been cooped up in the office all day working and I haven’t eaten a thing.
What I need right now is for Charlotte to cook me up something delicious. But I’m pretty sure she’s on strike.
At least with me.
My phone starts ringing again, and I groan through gritted teeth.
“Who the fuck is it now?” I say aloud.
I relax a little when I see that it’s Adriano.
“Hey, stronzo,” I say with a relieved laugh. “You must’ve been missing me, eh? What have—”
I freeze when all I hear from the other line is the sound of gunshots.
Fuck.
“Adriano?”
Three more gunshots in the space of a few seconds.
There’s a flurry of static.
And then the call drops.
I charge out of my office and yell for Raffaele. He’s on duty at the compound tonight. Seconds later, he comes running towards me, following by Giovanni and Marco.
“Boss, what is it?”
“Adriano’s in trouble,” I bark.
“Where is he?”
“I’m guessing he’s at his place,” I reply. “I think he’s being attacked there. I heard shots over the phone.”
“The Polish?” Raffaele asks.
“Who else?” I snarl bitterly. “We have to move fast. Get the team together. We’re moving out in five.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see motion above.
I recognize it instantly: Charlotte’s feet, disappearing from the top floor landing.
I turn and walk out of the house. I don’t have time for any fucking drama right now.
The moment the cars pull around, I jump in and we’re off, speeding towards Adriano’s house.
“How long?”
“We should be there in five minutes.”
“Make it four,” I growl. “Fucking floor it.”
We tear through the streets, narrowly missing a couple of drunken pedestrians who’re clearly on their way to the nightclubs.
“Watch it!” I roar from the back seat. “We can’t afford fucking casualties. The cops will be at our throats and I don’t need to deal with that shit right now.”
“Right. Sorry, boss.”
The moment we turn the corner, I see three vehicles parked haphazardly around Adriano’s apartment.
I spot two masked motherfuckers o
ut in front. Clearly, they’re meant to be lookouts, but they seem completely unprepared for the job.
Both try to bolt indoors when they see us coming.
I roll down the bulletproof windows of my jeep and let my gun loose on them. I hit the first one before the rest of my men have even pulled their guns out.
The second son of a bitch takes two shots, one right after the other.
The bullet in his chest is Raffaele’s.
The bullet in his skull is mine.
The jeep comes to a screeching halt, but I’m out before it has a chance to stop completely. I don’t wait for cover as I storm into the house.
I burst through the door and come face to face with five more men.
All masked. All armed.
“Fucking cowards!” I yell as I release a rainstorm of bullets on them.
The element of surprise only buys me a few seconds, though. By then, they’re back in offensive mode, retaliating with their own firepower.
My men come pouring in around me as I manage to find cover behind a massive bookshelf that Adriano uses for antiques.
I’m trying to locate him, but I can’t see him anywhere just yet.
I refuse to believe he’s dead until I find a body.
Until then, I’ll make these motherfuckers pray for the sweet release of death.
I pull out my second gun and start shooting. I kill three men in the span of seconds before I have to reload.
Raffaele and Giovanni cover me. When I’m locked and loaded again, I roll out from behind the bookshelf.
We’re not overrun by the black masks, which tells me that they’d expected to be gone before we showed up. They’re completely unprepared for this onslaught.
One black mask is only inches from me. He doesn’t even notice me until I grab his head and twist hard, breaking his neck in the process.
He falls to the floor like a ragdoll.
I step over his corpse as I aim at the two bastards trying to climb out the window.
I shoot them both in the back.
BANG-BANG. Two gunshots.
BANG-BANG. Two bodies hitting the floor, dead.
And then… silence.
Adrenaline courses through my body as my breathing normalizes.
I turn and survey the carnage. There’s at least ten bodies littering the floor. All in the same anonymous black masks.
I growl, “Any survivors?”
“Just this one,” Raffaele says, pulling a black mask by the scruff of his collar and throwing him down at my feet. “He’s got a bullet wound to the arm, but otherwise he’s fine.”
“Not for long,” I sneer, leaning forward and pulling the mask from his face.
The man is completely forgettable. Wide-set eyes, flat nose, thin lips. He reeks of fear.
“What’s your name?”
He shakes his head.
I sigh.
“Bring him back with us,” I say. “Put him in the cellar. One night won’t hurt. If he doesn’t prove to be of any use by morning, one of you can put a bullet in his head.”
Stefano and Marco stride forward to carry out my orders. Together, they bind and gag the captive. Then they drag him outside to one of the vehicles.
“Is that it?” I ask looking around.
“Seems to be, boss.”
Which leaves only one glaring absence.
“Where’s Adriano?”
“I can’t find him,” Giovanni says, rushing in from another room. “There’s no body, either.”
“Did they take him?”
“How? We didn’t let anyone escape.”
“Maybe they left before we got here?”
“There wouldn’t have been a reason for any of them to stick around if they got what they came for.”
“I’m just saying—”
“Shut up,” I hiss.
Giovanni falls silent, his brow wrinkled in confusion.
Then I glance at Raffaele, who understands immediately.
At the same time, we both draw in a huge breath before we bellow “Adriano!” at the top of our lungs.
At first, there’s nothing.
Just the echo of our own desperate voices.
“Maybe we should check again?” someone suggests.
“He’s here,” I say firmly. “Alive.”
I can feel it in my bones.
“Always knew you believed in me.”
I turn as Adriano walks out from a door in the corner. He’s covered in soot and debris, but otherwise unharmed.
“Where the fuck were you?” I demand.
He smiles. “Missed me? Told you my panic room would come in handy one day.”
“The fucking panic room,” I groan. I remember when Adriano had that shit installed. It was a huge mess and it cost him a fortune. I’d mocked him for weeks.
Apparently, Adriano is thinking along the same lines.
“The laugh’s on you now huh, buddy?” he says with a huge grin.
“Just get in the car,” I tell him wearily. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
Adriano steps over the corpses that litter his living room floor. He looks sad.
“Man, I fuckin’ loved this place. I’m sending Kazimierz a goddamn invoice.”
I clap my hand on his dirty shoulder. “Trust me, brother: that’s not all we’re gonna send that bastard.”
I turn my attention towards Raffaele. “Inform everyone working off compound,” I instruct. “Tell them to get to safe houses ASAP. The Polish psychopath has come to play. Also, double up on security around the compound. No one gets in or out without my say-so.”
“Got it, boss.”
“Let’s move out.”
Adriano gets into the back of one of the jeeps with me. He’s got a few scrapes along his arms, but nothing a strong glass of whiskey won’t cure.
“What happened?” I ask.
“I was planning on spending the night chilling,” Adriano replies. “It’s the first time in three days I’ve actually been home. I heard those motherfuckers first, and when I got to my window, I saw them coming.”
We pull away from the curb in slightly less of a hurry than when we arrived.
“I thought about making a run for it,” he continues, “but they had the house surrounded. I had just enough time to get into the panic room before they stormed the place. They didn’t have a plan other than to kill me. It was fucking carnage.”
“Kazimierz is sending a message, I suppose,” I muse darkly. “That asshole thrives on chaos.”
“He needs to be committed to a psych ward.”
“No, he needs to be committed to a hole in the ground.”
As we drive through the gates of my compound, I notice that my orders have already been put into effect. There’s increased security all around the perimeter.
“Shit!” I curse loudly, causing Adriano to jump.
“Jesus, what?”
“Evie. She’s not on the compound tonight,” I explain. “She’s having a fucking sleepover.”
“Good,” Adriano points out. “Keep her there.”
“She’ll be safer here.”
“She’ll be safer there,” Adriano rebuts. “No one even knows she exists, much less where she’s staying tonight. Let the kid be a kid.”
I take a moment to absorb Adriano’s words. When I do, I concede that they make sense. It’s better that I keep Evie out of this madness as much as possible.
“Fine,” I reply grudgingly.
I don’t like it, but he’s right.
Not that I’d ever admit that to his face.
Adriano smirks. “You should listen to me more often. I’m very wise.”
I snort. “Sure you are. The Italian goddamn Einstein.”
“That’s me. Unrelated question—where’s Charlotte tonight?” Adriano asks with a wry grin.
“Same place she always is,” I answer. “In the compound, either in the kitchen or in her room.”
“Hmm,” Adriano mutters, studying my face ca
refully. “And what’s wrong?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that something’s clearly bothering you,” he says. “What is it?”
“Stupid question, considering what just happened.”
Adriano shakes his head. “You’re not thinking about the Polish. This is about her. I recognize the expression.”
“I don’t have an expression that’s specific to her.”
His eyes glint knowingly at me. “You do.”
“Don’t make me have to save your ass and kick it on the same night.”
Adriano just grins.
40
Charlotte
When Lucio and his men return, they immediately storm down into the cellar. No one looks up at me where I’m hiding on the second floor, looking down.
They’re dragging something between them.
More accurately—someone.
Whoever it is has a black bag pulled over his head. His hands and feet are both cuffed. I notice a thin trickle of blood sluicing down his wrists.
For an hour after that, I hear screams.
Brutal, agonizing screams.
Then an hour of silence.
Now, the house is quiet.
Thank God Evie’s not here tonight. On the other hand, that means I can’t sleep.
I get out of bed and head to the window. Looking at the moon always helps calm me, but of course, the moon is hidden behind a flurry of moody gray clouds.
Nothing rivals the moody gray of a certain someone’s eyes, though.
Jesus, Charlotte—stop thinking about him.
I wish I could.
The problem is that he’s fucking everywhere.
He’s in every nook and cranny of this house.
He’s in Evie’s eyes when she gets sad and melancholy.
He’s under my skin…
Taking advantage of my freedom, I leave the room and head downstairs. The plan is to sit by the pool for a little bit. I just need some fresh air. A place to clear my head.
But I slow down as I pass the cellar.
I can’t quite believe that Lucio would bring in another prisoner, especially after what happened with Evie the last time.
But maybe I shouldn’t be surprised that Lucio would go back on his word.
