“You’re crazy!” she yells, then giggles. Her smile’s so wide, her face may crack.
I grin full force and agree, “Always have been. It’s funner this way.” The people around me cheer as they see her shaking her hips in skintight black pants and a bra. She’s beautiful. Cheeks flushed, chest heaving from her excited breaths, and a tiny tummy begging for my caress. I think I will. My hand glides down her flesh, thumb grazing the dainty silver-and-diamond belly button ring. “Could you be any more enticing?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “If anyone here is alluring, that’d be you with your godly looks and killer smile.” She’s so damn sincere when she says it, I almost believe her. Too bad I’m flawed beyond recognition.
I let the thought go and allow my mind to escape into the music and the drugs fueling my system. “Baby girl, we’re golden,” I proclaim with a wink. Tonight’s going to be a damn good night. I’ve earned it.
If you are going through hell,
keep going.
Why would you stop in hell?
- Steve Harvey
Salvatore’s touches drive me wild inside, he has my body lit on fire for him. I’ve never witnessed him this carefree. It’s almost as if he’s a different person entirely, one I’m just now meeting. If I’d initially met him tonight, I’d never believe he’s the generally serious and somewhat grouchy guy I’ve been around daily. Something unusual came over him tonight, catching me completely off guard. In his suite he had me down a shot with him and then made me promise to come dancing with him. I wasn’t sure at first, but after a little coaxing and him promising me we’d have fun, I caved.
The guard who brought us out kept side-eyeing us in the back, making me anxious, but Salvatore didn’t pay him any mind. Rather, he persuaded me to do two more shots on the ride to the club. I had no idea we were even headed to the club, and not being a regular drinker, I was thankful for those pregame shots once I discovered where we’d end up for the night.
We’re deep in the city, some underground type of club. It’s got a free-spirited indie vibe to it. The South African band only confirms the diverse group. Not that it matters. Everyone here is one hundred percent about having a good time, and their energy is rubbing off on me. I’ve never done something like this—be spontaneous and a bit crazy. I was skeptical, but I’ll admit I am having fun. Sal’s laughter and grin are contagious, and I find myself wanting to suck up every bit of attention he’ll give me.
“Your smile would part the heavens,” I proclaim lamely, expecting him to tease me on my outburst. Rather than saying anything in response, he pulls me to him for another searing kiss. We’re making out in the middle of the dance floor, and there’s no other place I’d rather be than with him in this moment.
“Sir!” the driver-guard man calls loudly, jolting us apart as he shakes Salvatore’s shoulder.
He pulls away, breaking our kiss. His eyes are dilated and sparkling, remaining on me. Apparently, he enjoys my mouth as much as I do his. “Fuck off, Severo, and don’t touch me if you want to keep breathing,” he replies thunderously, never sparing the man a simple glance, and then he’s kissing me again. His words disappear and nothing else seems to matter.
I can barely make out the guard still shouting in the background, and he doesn’t sound all too pleased. I manage to overhear, “Mr. Vendetti is sending your brothers to collect you. I suggest you drink some water, sir. You’ll need your wits about you.”
Sal must hear him because in the next instant, he spins around and tugs my hand, weaving through the crowd. Severo attempts to keep up with us, but the place is far too packed with sweaty bodies. I manage to catch him speaking into his wrist as the dancers close around us, effectively making him and me invisible to anyone possibly watching.
Salvatore hastily grabs two shots off a passing tray. “Down it, bellissima!” he shouts and throws his back. I do the same, not ready for our bubble to end. The liquid burns as it goes down, reminding me of gasoline.
“Ugh! What was that?”
“Fireball,” he laughs, and his grin is back in place, drawing me into his arms to dance some more.
“It was disgusting.” I stick my tongue out.
He’s hard, his cock rubbing my thigh with each move. My pussy is soaked, so much so I’m thanking my lucky stars I wore black jeans tonight. “Christo, I want you. You smell like dessert,” he rasps, sending goose bumps over my flesh.
My cheeks flush on top of the heat from dancing and the heavy kick of the alcohol. The truth is, he smells divine too. His scent is powerful made man mixed with cologne and a touch of sweat tossed in for good measure. Not the stinky kind, but the pheromone type that has me wanting to climb his body like an irrational woman.
Salvatore pales out of the blue, his eyes widening. He glances around the room, almost as if he’s looking to escape. I ask, “Hey, are you okay?”
“Sure.” He shakes his head, still flicking his gaze in every direction. “I’m going to hit the bathroom. You gonna be all right here?”
“I’ll walk with you and use the ladies room.”
His head bobs. “Okay, yeah.” Then he’s headed towards the far wall where I’m assuming the bathrooms are.
We never make it the entire way as we’re intercepted by three very pissed-off Vendettis. Valentino, Luciano, and Cristiano, along with a handful of their men, cage us in. Valentino snatches Salvatore’s arms so forcefully it jerks Sal’s head back. He spins Sal around to face him, reeling his fist back. I scream as his knuckles connect powerfully with Salvatore’s right eye. He’s already bruised up from fighting earlier, and this will only make it worse.
Shit. I can understand why he was on the move now. This isn’t good, and I have no clue what I should do to help. They’re the freaking mafia. It’s not like I can jump on one of their backs and tug their hair out or anything. Not to mention I’m pushing five feet, and they’re easily six foot plus.
Two of the men with their group close in on me next, before I can attempt to protest. A hand from each of them rest on my biceps as they lead me through the club. The brothers surround Salvatore, and I lose sight of them as I’m dragged outside to an awaiting blacked-out expensive SUV like the one we arrived in.
“Hey! You can let go of me, you know!” I protest now that The Weekend is no longer pounding through the speakers of the club and everyone can actually hear me speak outdoors.
“Get in,” the stoic brute grunts as the other guy opens the door. He pushes me inside while the former rounds the vehicle, climbing inside. I’m boxed in between them once again in the back seat and the vehicle’s pulling away without Salvatore.
“Excuse me, but where are you taking me? I’m not sure I agree with this. I’m a perfectly capable adult, not some child you can manhandle whenever you feel the urge.”
The driver meets my stare in the rearview mirror and my body relaxes a fraction as I realize he’s familiar. I’ve seen him around the estate many times, speaking with the Vendettis. “Boss wants you at the estate,” is all he offers in response.
My adrenaline plummets. Mix it with the alcohol weighing me down and the long, silent ride…I’m passed out before I know it.
I wake with a start, my brain hurting and disoriented. It’s a bit foggy and I’m kind of hungover. I’m in my room, and if it weren’t for being half-naked, I’d think that last night was nothing more than a wild dream. Glancing at the clock, I notice it’s five minutes until the baby usually wakes up, and my body’s grown used to the timing. She has a fairly set schedule now that I’m the one caring for her consistently every day, and it appears I forgot to set my alarm last night. I must’ve drank more than I remember because I’d never be that irresponsible in my right mind. Whoever carried me to bed should’ve woken me up. I’m grateful they took care in getting me here, but still, I have obligations.
Rosa doesn’t deserve to suffer because I had an interesting night out with her father. Interesting is an understatement, to say the least. Last night was pr
obably the most exciting evening I’ve ever had. It’s kind of sad to acknowledge that, but at the same time, it was a lot to take in, and I couldn’t do that sort of thing often. And Salvatore…what was up with him? He acted so differently than his typical self. Although I suppose they have to cut loose at some point. I was just taken completely off guard to catch that side of him.
I’ll have to shower later once Rosa goes down for her mid-morning nap. I toss on some clean clothes along with a fresh swipe of deodorant and rush to brush my teeth. I don’t like when the baby wakes up without someone there with her right away. I don’t ever want her to feel scared or unsure. She’s finally learned to trust me, and I want to keep that between us. It makes for much more pleasant mornings and afternoons, for that matter.
I toss my hair in a sloppy bun. The Vendettis will have to excuse my messy appearance this morning. I may not see them anyhow. There’re plenty of mornings I don’t. I usually take my breakfast in the nursery, as I’ve learned Salvatore enjoys the freedom of having his mornings spent with his family downstairs. Once I’ve dried my face and put on my moisturizer, I slide on some slippers and head for the next room over.
I’m met with the terrible sounds of loud puking and sobbing from the opposite wall. It takes a minute for it to sink in that it’s Salvatore whose so horribly ill. I’m greeted with Violet and Matteo’s worried stares. They quiet their conversation the moment they notice me enter Rosa’s room.
“He’s sick? That’s Salvatore, right?” I ask, feeling exhausted with my own headache making itself more pronounced. I’d have to be deaf not to hear the retching with his door wide open, leading into Rosa’s nursery.
“You could say that,” Violet mutters under her breath.
Matteo scowls and admits, “He’s detoxing. The medicine he’s on to help keep him from using renders him violently ill. What the fuck were you two thinking? He could’ve died! Rosa wouldn’t have either of her parents.”
“D-detoxing?” I stammer. “What do you mean ‘using?’” My mind races. I should’ve known. Shit. The rumors of him being the Vendetti drunk and fuck-up weren’t just rumors after all. I’d expected him to be intoxicated and unhinged when I first arrived, if they’d held any merit. However, he was stone-cold sober the entire time, and I quickly concluded it was merely more lies being spread around about a powerful family. Haters will say anything in an attempt to make them appear weaker in some way.
“Cazzo.” He swears harshly and storms away, jerking his cell from his pocket as he goes. He angrily barks as he exits through Rosa’s bedroom door, “Cris! Get Luca here now.” He must be calling on their youngest brother to step in. This is so messed up, and I have no idea how to handle it, or what I can do to even attempt to help out. I feel remorseful in a sense, even though last night wasn’t my idea in the slightest.
Turning to Violet, I struggle to get a handle on the guilt my stomach churns with. “I-I didn’t know. I promise…I wasn’t aware about any of it. Salvatore was so happy, I was downright stunned seeing him like that when he’s normally so reserved. I, uh, never would’ve guessed it’s a serious problem he’s been getting help for.” I sort of want to cry right now, to be honest. I unknowingly enabled him and it could’ve possibly killed him.
She winces and nods. “Problem is a gross understatement. Sal has a serious addiction and was finally clean. His brothers have swept it under the rug and made excuses for years, from what I’ve gathered. I thought he’d overcome the turbulent pull it had over him these past months for his daughter’s sake. Yet, he just gave up some serious months of rehab time, and Lord knows he’s struggled.”
“Will he be able to come back from this, do you think?”
A tear slips down her cheek. She whispers, “I sure hope so. My brother is hurting in there, along with my husband. I can’t let my famiglia face another internal issue. All of these brothers will be wounded from this, whether it be from rumors flying amuck or their hearts cracking a bit more. I have to figure out a way to help our Sal overcome this and take the pressure off the others.”
Ditto. I hope so too. It’ll be brutal if Salvatore doesn’t recover from this setback. “You can’t take on your brother-in-law’s sobriety. His abstinence is something he has to do for himself.”
“I can help,” she argues, her stubborn Italian streak shining through.
Nodding, I agree. “I can too. Anything you guys need, I’m here for him—and you.”
She left out the part about me being drugged last night. Salvatore must’ve put something in that first shot we’d taken together. At least, that’s what I think I heard being whispered between Matteo and Violet before I’d found them in the doorway between Rosa’s and Salvatore’s suite. Them being right there when I’d least expected it overwhelmed me a bit. Toss in the sounds of Salvatore retching in the next room, and it had me distracted. Now, however, I can’t help but wonder…did he drug me after all? And then there’s the other question weighing more heavily: would he do it again in the future?
I’ve never been faced with anything like this, and then there’s the fact I’m beginning to care for Salvatore. It only makes this more confusing for me. I can’t help but wonder if I had anything to do with why he chose to relapse. There’s been some friction between us…sexual tension on my end anyway. Could it have pushed him over the edge? I know I’m not personally responsible for his life choices. Salvatore’s a grown man and can make his own decisions, but did I help tip the scales in any way? With every fiber of my being, I hope not. I would feel absolutely horrible if it were the case.
The last thing I want is for Rosa’s father to not be there for her, to not be able to care for her in the long run. If Sal doesn’t keep it together, then that’s the reality of the situation. He could lose his daughter over a substance abuse addiction, and it’s a terrifying thought for me. If it’s plaguing me so deeply, I can only imagine how he must feel about it inside. I pray he has enough sense to realize the severity and the strength to get through his personal battle. Rosa is depending on him. She has no mother. Only Salvatore. He can’t risk her future over a lapse in judgment and sobriety. She must come first.
Plucking the tiny mafia princess from her crib, I bundle her up in the bright-white furry blanket and hold her to my chest. She quiets almost instantly with my embrace, watching me intently. I don’t know when I’ll be lucky enough to have my own children, but I can only hope they’re as beautiful as Rosa. She has these perfect, round cherub cheeks that’re pink when she wakes up or becomes angry. Pair them with her big, chocolate irises and dark hair, and she’s beyond precious. It causes her to appear even more fair-skinned than she already is. She reminds me of a sweet angel you’d see painted on the ceilings of large Catholic churches. I haven’t been to many in my lifetime, but there are a few still standing in the cities I’ve visited.
Rocking her, I whisper, promising, “Beautiful Rosa…your daddy will pull through this. In the meantime, you have me to count on. I’ll protect you and care for you while he becomes strong again. Don’t you worry, sweet girl. I promise you’ve got me for as long as you need me.”
I’m not fluent in Italian yet,
but I’m fluent in pizza and
that’s basically the same thing.
- Questadolcevita
“Why?” My brother asks for the millionth time. Unlike before, my head’s finally beginning to clear enough for me to process what all transpired. I failed. Again. I knew it’d happen eventually, but it came at me when I was least expecting it.
“The feeling doesn’t go away completely. I can be sober for a year, but it’ll still haunt me.”
“Something had to push you in that direction. What was it?”
“I refuse to make excuses for my decisions.” I’m sick, but not stupid. I’ll take full responsibility, as no one crushed those pills for me and pushed me to snort them. I was the person who made those decisions, as I was the one who grabbed a fifth of liquor from the bar and downed a decent portion of
it as well. No one forced me to take the Molly from the bouncer when we arrived at the club either. Once I got started, I couldn’t get enough, and I was ready to binge on whatever I could get my hands on.
Matteo shakes his head, handing me my bottled water and vitamins. “I’m not an expert, but even I know an outside stimulus had to drive you to use. Rosa is too important to you to choose relapse without thinking over the consequences.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Then tell me, please. I’m begging you, Salvatore. Let me in. I only want to be here for you and help if I can. You’re mio fratello. You’re mio famiglia.”
My throat swells inside with emotion as I choke up a bit at the weight in his words. “I didn’t have a defining moment where I chose to relapse. I was feeling down, I was upset, angry, and confused over the altercations with our fratelli and Annabella. Rosa is a challenge—one I love—but it still adds into everything else, along with not being able to do anything. I feel so damn helpless, and in return, a bit hopeless at times. I want my daughter, my sobriety, and Annabella so fucking badly, yet I can’t have her.”
“Why not?”
“I have to heal myself, work my steps before bringing anyone else into my life. Rosa is the only one I need to concentrate on, along with my sobriety. But you see? There’s so much going on that it begins to add up, and my emotions aren’t like they used to be. I feel bipolar at times, swinging up and then down with hardly any middle to even the transition out. One minute I want to punch my brothers for the shit they say to Annabella, and the next, I feel guilty. With the elastic band of my emotions tugging me in all directions, I crave that same escape I always sought out.”
“Do you believe the fighting was the overall trigger?”
The Vendetti Coward: Salvatore Vendetti (The Vendetti Famiglia Book 4) Page 6
