Rotten Men (A Rotten Love Duet Book 2)

by Ivy Fox

  “So what are you planning to do about it?” he questions apprehensively.

  “We use the money Mammà gave me and disappear. Start fresh somewhere else. I won’t expect you to come with us if you don’t want to, but it won’t be safe for you either, should you decide to stay,” I explain cautiously, hoping he understands this isn’t something to take lightly.

  “I’m not leaving you two to fend for yourselves,” he quips back, hurt I even suggested such a thing.

  “We can take care of each other just fine, but it would be nice to have you with us. We could even go to Mexico and buy a small house on the beach so you can drink Coronas all day while chatting up the exotic locals,” I tease with a slanted grin.

  He lets out a huge laugh that comes straight from the gut, and the sound warms my worried heart.

  “You and I both know my romancing days are far behind me,” he snickers.

  I give him an understanding nod, and pat his knee in solidarity.

  “Speaking of which, I still have a bone to pick with you,” he adds with a hint of disappointment. I arch my eyebrow feigning ignorance, when he deadpans unequivocally, “You told them I was your husband.”

  “So?” I shrug, my tone is unapologetic at the sound of his disgruntlement.

  A pregnant pause ensues, making me turn to glance at the man who is looking at me with displeasure in his brown eyes. I turn away and squint my eyes, hating how I will never live up to his moral code.

  “Don’t look at me like that, James. You are my husband,” I quip back.

  “We both know that isn’t true, Beautiful.”

  I choke on my own saliva and choose to downplay my actions with his usual lighthearted rebuke.

  “I beg to differ, Handsome. I have the marriage certificate to prove it,” I singsong, hoping it’s enough to sway his mood.

  “Yes, but I have the empty bed I’ve slept in for the past ten years to prove we are not,” he replies sternly.

  “We were never about that.” I slump my shoulders, and lean my head back on the headrest, wishing we could avoid this topic altogether.

  “I remember an occasion or two where we were,” he teases, sensing how uncomfortable this conversation is for me.

  “You mean when too much tequila was involved, and we were at our worst? If I recall, we both regretted it the minute the sun came up.”

  “True. Our relationship was never about that. Both of us are still too tied up in lost love. Sleeping alone with our ghosts has always been preferable to living a lie,” he hushes under his breath.

  “James…” I whisper, patting his knee again softly, knowing exactly the pain he feels every time we broach the subject of his late wife. It’s much the same way I feel whenever he mentions the pieces of my heart.

  “It’s okay, Selene. Regardless of all that, I love my life, or at least I try to. But when we came up with this plan, it was so the Outfit wouldn’t find you. You said so yourself. They were always looking for a high-class young woman, and would never even consider suspecting a modest mechanic’s wife to be the girl they were searching for. But things have changed now that you’ve gone to the ‘boss’ himself, as you call him. I would assume that since you were so forthcoming with my existence, you would have told him the truth. All of it, Selene, not just bits and pieces. It would have been the decent thing to do, don’t you think?”

  “I couldn’t do that,” I stutter.

  “And why not?”

  “Because I just couldn’t, James! The only reason I went to Chicago was to save you from a certain death sentence, not to give them false hope. It’s best they think I’ve moved on. It’ll make it easier on them when we disappear again. It would be crueler if made them believe I was coming back when I am unable to. And anyway, I don’t want that life. I never did, especially not now.” I relent, the nervous energy bleeding out of me.

  “That might be so, but you also want them. And as much as you try to push them away, that won’t ever change. I always told you that this life is a short one—too short to have so many regrets. The men you love are alive, Beautiful. Living and breathing. I would give anything for more time with Lori, and I just don’t want you to lose your chance at true happiness because of fear. You will never find the same love in someone else’s arms. You and I both have that in common.”

  “James, I do love you,” I affirm, facing him so he can see the sincerity in my words.

  “I know you do, Beautiful. And in my own way, I love you, too. But we both know it pales in comparison to the real deal. Now that you’ve seen them, I’m not sure you’ll be strong enough to resist the love that has been tormenting you all these years. And I for one, don’t approve of you denying yourself the chance to be happy,” he counters, and I again thank my lucky stars that James crossed my path when I needed him most.

  “I know you mean well, I truly do. But you know it’s not that simple.”

  “It can be. The truth will set you free, Selene. If only you let it,” he insists lovingly.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea. There are too many variables to consider. Too many dangers and lies to overcome. At least this way, I’m the only one who knows the sacrifices I’m making in order to keep them safe.”

  “But you aren’t the only one, are you? Remember it’s not only you who is forsaking your family. You’re also making the decision for Jude as well.”

  I grind my teeth at the low blow James has resorted to make his point.

  “Jude will understand. They are only names and faces on photographs for him. They’re not real to him as they are to me,” I reply harshly.

  “That’s just another lie on top of the millions you tell yourself every day. Jude is clever, sensitive, and has too much of a curious mind not to question your actions. Sooner or later, he’ll want to know where he came from. And him being your son, he’ll move heaven and earth to get the answers you deny him.”

  “That’s not fair. I’ve never kept him in the dark.”

  “True, but you never gave him the chance to tell you what he wants, either,” James reprimands.

  “My son isn’t even ten yet. He has no say on the matter. I’m his mother, and he knows that everything I do is to protect him.”

  “To keep him safeguarded, yes. But what about protecting his heart, Selene? Don’t you think keeping him away from his family is doing more harm than good?”

  His question is so heartfelt that I almost forget we grew up in such different realities. While James was horseback riding and climbing trees or swimming in lakes, I was being torn apart by my father, while still learning how to be the perfect mafia principessa. I want Jude to have the childhood that James had, not the nightmare I escaped from.

  Once another long bout of silence sets in, I sigh, relieved James is smart enough not to push the subject any further.

  Or so I thought.

  “What are you going to tell him about us moving?” James asks, coming from another angle to support his argument.

  “I’ll think of something,” I bite back.

  “So you are going to lie? To Jude? To your own flesh and blood?” He shakes his head, disappointed with my reply.

  “I have to! You don’t have to come if you have a problem with how I deal with the situation,” I warn coolly.

  “Oh no, you don’t. You and Jude are my family, and I won’t allow you to run away from me so easily. Before you might have been successful in doing it to them, but that’s only because they had no idea you were a flight risk. I know better. Wherever you go, I’ll go with you.” He laughs as if the mere idea is unfathomable to him.

  “James—”

  “Don’t ‘James’ me, Beautiful. This is not up for debate. Ten years ago I offered to help you in any way I could. I have devoted the last decade of my life in keeping that promise. I won’t turn back on my word now,” he affirms, crossing his arms over his chest to make his point clear.

  I bite my inner cheek to keep
silent, knowing nothing I say will make him change his mind. Especially when I, too, am bound by a promise that I made when I was only twelve years old—to always put the happiness and wellbeing of the pieces of my heart above my own, and to protect them in any way I could.

  Always and forever.

  How can I argue with James when his moral compass is so much more righteous than mine?

  Life on the run isn’t fun and games, and taking my family across the country to hide from the devil and a mad man isn’t what I intended to do either. Still, I can’t presume that they won’t somehow learn of my whereabouts if we stay in Nashville. It’s just a risk too dangerous to take.

  My thoughts are still rambling on when I turn into our neighborhood and see in the distance, a silhouette of a man sitting on our stoop. A black limo, which is parked on the curb of our street with a chauffeur sitting idly inside, is a clear indication of who exactly awaits me at my doorstep.

  “Shit!” I groan, slapping the steering wheel in annoyance and aggravation.

  “Who’s that?” James asks, taking stock of the pretentious car and the man now standing on our lawn.

  “Vincent.”

  “That’s Vincent? Pompous asshole, isn’t he?” he remarks taking another look at Vincent’s car. “Couldn’t be less conspicuous, huh?”

  “It comes with the job of being king. Why hide what you are when you can gain more by flaunting it in people’s faces.” I shrug.

  “Where is he? Where’s Jude?”

  “Next door with Mrs. Henderson, but I told him we should be home around this time.”

  “Shit. Okay, no worries. I’ll go next door and stall him, while you deal with our visitor,” James suggests.

  I throw him a stiff nod.

  “Selene?”

  “Yes?”

  “Get rid of him. If he finds out about Jude, I doubt the world is big enough for you to hide.”

  “Why would you say that?” I ask rubbing my lower lip raw.

  “Because I wouldn’t rest until I found you both. And by looking at him, I can tell you that he won’t either.”

  SEVENTEEN

  Vincent

  “Is that him?” I ask, standing still while locking eyes with the man who stole everything from us.

  “Him?” Selene stares back at me, pulling my attention away from the retreating man that I vowed to despise.

  “Don’t act coy, Selene. Is that the man I helped get out of jail? Is that your husband?” I sneer, the word still tasting like bile around my tongue.

  “Yes, it is,” she affirms, crossing her arms over her chest unapologetically. I sneer at that as well.

  “Hmm. Scared to meet me, is he? Don’t I deserve a ‘thank you’ for my troubles at least?” I taunt, bridging the gap between us. But Selene takes two steps back away from me, no longer comfortable with the intimacy.

  Too bad, I think and remove the space she’s created. Selene places both of her hands on my chest to hold me at bay, and my cold smirk itches to come through.

  “He isn’t scared. He just had some place to go.”

  “Guess his priorities aren’t what they should be. If I had been locked away without being able to touch you, I doubt I would be interested in visiting neighbors when I could be fucking my wife seven ways till Sunday,” I snipe.

  “You’ve never been crude, don’t start now. What do you want, Vincent?” she questions, unimpressed with my crass comment.

  “Are you not even going to invite me in for coffee?” I tease.

  “Coffee? The only thing I’ve seen you drink is hard liquor,” she criticizes, her censuring brow up in the air to make her point.

  “Coffee will do just fine. I haven’t needed to drown myself in alcohol for the past few days. I had an epiphany of sorts,” I tell her, reaching out to grab a lock of her hair, playing with the rich silk of it through my fingers.

  “Really? Do I want to know what it is?”

  “That one addiction can never truly satisfy another. Alcohol can’t drown the craving of what I really thirst for. So why demean it with a pale substitute?” I watch her swallow dryly, and her eyes shimmer with thoughts of the last time we were together. I lick my lips, and she follows my errant tongue. “So how about that coffee?” I insist mischievously.

  “I don’t think I have any. I haven’t been around much to shop,” she says, her cheeks turning to a blushful pink.

  I lower just enough for my lips to caress her ear, and her involuntary shiver is too pronounced for her to play off. “Water then,” I hush, turning that gorgeous pink to full blown red.

  “Fine!” she concedes, while her eyes scout around to make sure no one saw our private exchange.

  “Come in, then,” she says before turning on her heel and climbing the three-step stoop leading to her front door.

  “I intend to.”

  I walk up the stairs admiring the way her perfect, peach ass fills up the generic jeans she’s wearing. This woman is a mafia principessa, yet here she is acting like a normal—living in an average suburbia home and wearing average clothes instead of the designer labels she grew up with. I should have known as much that those luxuries our life offered didn’t mean anything to her. She could take it or leave it. Just like with everything else in her life, apparently.

  We walk into a hallway filled with photographs and adornments, but she speedily ushers me into the kitchen, not allowing me much time to look at her homely decorations. But one thing is clear; even though this house is small, it’s a far cry from the gloomy halls of the Bianchi mansion. There is light, and color covering every inch; even the air seems lively and refreshing, holding a hint of her spring perfume smell. The kitchen is charming enough, forsaking the modern look, which keeps the homely feel even with the outdated appliances and sunshine colors.

  I hate it all.

  I can’t believe it, but my jealousy toward such a small thing as home décor is enough to strangle the threatening scream I yearn to release. How could she turn her back on us, just to become fucking Betty Crocker instead? I mean, she could have had it all, yet she preferred to marry a mechanic merely months after leaving us.

  Did she not love any of us at all?

  Last time we were together, I almost let myself believe she genuinely cared for me. That maybe there was an ounce of regret in her decision to abandon us. But as I turn around and look at the life she has built for herself, a life so foreign to the one any one of us would have offered her, I wonder if this was the real reason why she left—to pursue a life we could never give her.

  A life of a normal.

  “What’s wrong?” she asks nervously, placing a glass of ice water on the countertop beside me.

  Everything. That’s what’s wrong.

  I came here to throw in her husband’s face how he could never measure up to a woman like my tesoro, yet here I am, forced to face reality.

  I’m the one who could never give her the life she dreamed of. I could have given her the world, but never this.

  “Vincent?”

  “I was just thinking how cozy your home is.”

  “Thank you,” she replies, her face still troubled by my features.

  “I wish I could burn it to the ground,” I admit. But my confession isn’t tainted with resentment and anger as I would have thought. Instead, finally confronting the truth, all I feel is an overwhelming sadness.

  “Vincent…” She sighs, placing her delicate hands on my cheeks to comfort my sudden pain. But it does little to wash away this new blooming misery.

  “I wish I could burn away every last memory this house has been blessed with. Your laughs. Your cries. The good moments and the bad. These walls saw it all, and I didn’t. I would wield a wrecking ball through it if I could,” I murmur in anguish.

  “I’m sure you could,” she tries to tease, but her sparkling, jeweled eyes look just as pained as the organ inside me that refuses to beat.

  “I know I coul
d, but then you would hate me even more.”

  “I don’t hate you, Vincent,” she huffs out, breaking away from our contact and turning her back on me.

  “Oh, no? Then why did you leave us? Leave me?” I ask, walking to her and pulling her back to me.

  “Vincent—”

  “I thought I knew the reason why, but now I’m not so sure,” I tell her, my nose running behind her ear, knowing this will be the last time I will be this close to her. After confronting such a reality, there is no way I can keep her. Ten years ago she left us, but now we are the ones who will have to walk away from her.

  “There is a lot that you don’t know, Vincent. Just trust me when I say that lack of love was not the reason I left you,” she reveals with a melancholic tone.

  “I know my uncle talked to you about us getting married, Selene,” I confess, and her spine straightens in my embrace. Before she’s able to say another word, I kiss the top of her head, to show her I’m not angry. “For years I thought you left because you were repulsed at the idea of being my wife. But now that I’m here, I finally understand why you left. It’s not that you didn’t love us. You just couldn’t love the life we were offering. The life I could offer you.”

  It was easier thinking Selene was incapable of love. A traitorous, spoiled principessa who fooled us all into believing her heart was pure. I could blame her for being a lie.

  But this?

  Knowing my tesoro ran, not from me but from a life I can never abandon, is gut-wrenching. I vowed to put the Outfit above all others; that was my choice. Selene made no such promise. The Butcher took her innocence while the syndicate did nothing. She owes them no loyalty. Why should she marry the boss of an organization, forever binding her chains to it, when she could run away and live free?

  “I’m such a fool. Giovanni always told me you wanted something different than the life we had, but I didn’t want to accept it. I preferred to blame you for my desolation, instead of facing the fact I was responsible for it all along.”