Bellissimo Lotta (Beautiful Struggle): Companion Novel to Bellissimo Fortuna (The Family Trilogy Book 2)

by Lunsford, Leigh Ann

  Me: What would you do if you could find your sister’s murderer? Would you be able to forgive them?

  Dakota: I asked your thoughts.

  Bianca: Just answer, please.

  Dakota: No, I wouldn’t forgive them. I would like to think I wouldn’t take someone else’s life, but I’ve dreamt of killing a nameless, faceless person.

  Bianca: So how do I reconcile with myself that my father is a murderer?

  Dakota: Whoa. How’d you reach that conclusion?

  My phone rings.

  “Hello.”

  “I can’t have this conversation via text.”

  “Okay.”

  “Continue.” Overbearing ass.

  “You know what my father does. You know the truth. Granted, I’m shielded as much as possible, but I’m not dumb, Dakota. He kills. Or orders others to kill. He’s feared. So how is he any different from the person who killed your sister?” His deep sigh comes through loud and clear. He’ll try to tread lightly, but it’s a confusing topic. Not black and white.

  “It’s not cut and dry, Bianca. I get your point, but my sister was blameless. Innocent. The men who get mixed up with your father and his business know what the outcome could be. It’s not the same.”

  “You can throw all of those explanations and rationalizations out there. Fact is, no matter how great of a father he is, he’s dirty. He’s a fucking criminal, Dakota. And that kills me.” I’ve never voiced those thoughts. Not to anyone. Not even myself. Bronson idolizes him, as he should. Joseph Agosto is a hell of a man, a force to be reckoned with . . . why couldn’t he be a butcher, or banker?

  “Does your father love you?”

  “Of course. With all he is.”

  “Does he hurt you?”

  “Never.”

  “Is he a good man?”

  I pause. “I don’t know. He has goodness in him. But you can’t do what he does with a pure soul.”

  “I’m not going to argue with you there. You have to come to a point with yourself that you can compartmentalize the different parts of him. You can’t throw away your relationship over it. I don’t know him well, but I know he loves you. I can pretty much guarantee there is nothing he wouldn’t do for his family.”

  “Except change careers.”

  “Don’t be so sure about that. But if you ask that of him, you need to be ready for all the ramifications that will bring. You need to talk to him. Let him explain as best he can.”

  “I hate when you’re right.”

  “Bianca, there will be a lot of things in life that don’t make sense, don’t fit inside of a perfect little bubble. Actions, reactions, decisions, and consequences change each situation. I think you’re pretty tough, but you have to learn how to adapt. You’re your toughest critic, and I feel you hold everyone, but most importantly, yourself, to impossible standards. That’s no way to live.”

  I’m trying to process his words. I’ve had a rough night. “Okay, goodnight, Dakota.”

  “Goodnight, Binks.” I’m on the verge of chastising him for using that horrid nickname, but he’s disconnected.

  I punch my pillow, toss and turn trying to get comfortable. “Bianca.” I hear Callie, but I’m thankful I can’t see her. I’ve just given credence to my most intimate and intimidating thoughts . . . but not to her.

  “Yeah?”

  “I heard everything. I get where you’re coming from, better than most. What I don’t understand is after you see all I live with, how can you still be angry with your dad? Just remember, it could be worse. Think of the alternatives before you start trashing your situation. And also, I’m always here whether or not I agree.”

  “Love you, Callie.” I feel like shit. This is why I never address the issues I have, because they seem so trivial, so redundant compared to other people’s problems. Callie lives in an abusive home. Dakota’s sister was murdered. Children are starving all across the world. And I’m crying over my daddy issues.

  “Love you, Bianca. Now, please go to sleep.” She manages to get her plea out around her yawn.

  I’m restless throughout the night, and by morning, I still have no resolution. Breakfast is quiet. My mom is bustling around the kitchen; she made all my favorites, but I can’t seem to find my appetite. Bronson is staring at me, his eyes darting back and forth between Callie and me. “Okay, did you two have a fight?”

  Funny thing is, he would be so screwed if he had to pick sides. “No, big brother. We were just up late.” I turn and wink at Callie.

  Her smile softens her whole face, and I’m jealous of her at this moment. She can take the most tragic events in her life and still somehow have a positive outlook. I return her smile and again resolve myself to figuring out where to go from here.

  “Figlia,” my father interrupts my thoughts.

  “Yes?” I raise my eyebrows at him. I see the pain flash in his eyes, and I loathe myself. He’s troubled and clueless as to the shift in our relationship, and I keep pushing myself further and further away.

  He drops a kiss on the top of my head, “Ti amo,” and he drops a set of keys by my plate.

  “Holy shit.” Hyperventilating may be in my future.

  “Bianca Agosto, language,” my mother reprimands me. Bronson gets away with it, but that’s one more difference between the males and females in this family.

  “Sorry,” I try to sound shameful. My father is trying to hold in a chuckle, Bronson is grinning, and Callie is choking on bacon.

  “It’s in the driveway, beautiful girl.” I push away from the table so I can go gawk at my car. Halfway to the door, I pivot and dash back in the kitchen. I launch myself at my father, and as always, his arms catch me, engulf me, and I wish I still had that same safe feeling it used to bring me. “I can teach you.” He wants so much to infuse himself back into my life.

  “I took that driving class Mom set up, and if I need anything, I’ll let you know.” I see the disappointment lining his face, but I just don’t know how to bridge this gap without spewing the truth, and that will cause pain to the entire family.

  “No driving until you get your permit, and afterwards, no driving after dark.” I nod, knowing there will be many rules added. Daily.

  Callie is hot on my heels as we throw open the front door. A black Cadillac SRX is sitting in the driveway with a red bow tied across it. I screech, Callie joins in, and Bronson looks at both of us as he turns to go back inside. I snap a picture and send it to Dakota. Fuck, why was my first instinct to share it with him?

  Dakota: Nice. Need lessons?

  Me: Nope, I’m all set. Once I get my license, I’ll give new meaning to the term ‘hell on wheels.’

  Dakota: I have no doubt. Please be safe.

  I can’t respond. As much as I want him teaching me to drive, supporting me, I feel the need to start pulling back and I wonder if he can sense it. He is getting too close, seeing the things I never want shown. My plan to make him mine is going on the backburner . . . indefinitely.

  Temptation is like a knife, that may either cut the meat or the throat of a man; it may be his food or his poison, his exercise or his destruction.

  ~John Owen

  Chapter 4

  Dakota

  She’s pulling away from me, and I can’t figure her conclusion. I don’t know why I’m bothered by it. Bianca is an enigma. She shows you what she wants you to believe, tries to act self-absorbed, flippant about life; but she’s the first one to take on everyone’s problems. I still get the occasional texts, the smiles, and small talk when I come over to the house, but she’s become unreachable. It pisses me off.

  She and Callie spend a lot of time holed up together, and I can see the stress in her face, the nervousness in her mannerisms when Callie leaves to go home. Not my problem, I keep repeating to myself. I have this last year of school to get through, and Bronson and I are off to Florida State. We have a plan and nothing will deter me from its path. Most people don’t understand the draw of becoming a DEA agent, but it’s all I
’ve dreamed of since I was seven years old. Drugs aren’t rampant in the town we live in, but I’ve seen their damage. Drive downtown in most cities, and you can see the destruction left in their wake. They draw you in, make you feel invincible, and then leave you with nothing.

  Bronson assures me our plan is still on track, but with or without him, this is my future.

  Bianca: You have plans tonight?

  Me: Yep, your brother and I were supposed to work out, maybe play some hoops. What’s up? Need something?

  Bianca: What are you offering?

  Me: Bianca, not happening.

  I hate shooting her down all the time, but the only time she lets me know she is interested is when she’s playing this game with me.

  Bianca: Shit has hit the fan. Let’s all go to the movies.

  Me: You okay?

  Bianca: I will be. I just need to see you. You ground me.

  Me: I can come over there.

  Bianca: No, just agree to the movie plan when Bronson calls.

  I barely finish reading the text when my phone rings. It’s her brother. I listen to him, catching the stress in his voice.

  “Just meet me at the court. See you in five.” Something has set him off, and I think the culprit is a fiery redhead by the name of Callie Locati.

  I see him sitting as I approach the benches. The tight set of his jaw assures me I was spot on . . . he has something fucking with his mind.

  “What’s up?”

  “Just play.” His voice is harsh. I watch him take controlled breaths, his nostrils flare, and he searches the scenery for something to hit. The sharp look in his eyes is the same that he brings to our sparring session. He cracks his knuckles, and I know he’s hanging by a thread.

  “Talk to me, man.”

  “That fucking man is abusing her. Has been for years. She and Bianca have been hiding the truth from me.” His breaths are coming out short. Speaking those words rips him apart.

  “What?”

  “Callie’s dad. He’s sick. He fucking promised her to a man trying to get into the business. She’s sixteen years old.”

  “I’m lost here.” I do my best to stay out of the ins and outs and steer clear of the Bronson and Callie tornado. Looks like that funnel cloud is making landfall.

  “He fills her head with the most vile shit. I had to go to my dad, and tonight he’s informing them she’s promised to me.”

  “What the fuck? We just turned eighteen.” Promised to him? Is this the 1800’s where arranged marriages are still customary?

  The look he gives me makes me feel like I’m incinerating on the court. “I’ve loved that girl since she was six. I’ve always tried to look out for her, and if you could have heard the shit she was repeating today. If you could have seen the pain etched on her face . . . it’s bad.”

  “I get that, Bronson. I do. But what do you mean she is promised to you?”

  “It’s hard to explain if you didn’t grow up in the life. Basically, because my dad is the Boss, he can speak for me, and from this day on, she’s mine.”

  “Do you mean forever?”

  “Yes.”

  “Man, are you sure? That’s some crazy shit.”

  “Dakota,” his tone is ominous. He’s warning me against something, but I’m unsure of what.

  “What, Bronson? I’m just speaking the truth.”

  “Your truth, not mine, and not Callie’s. You don’t understand, and that’s fine, but you aren’t going to sit here and question me, and if you’re trying to put doubts in my head, you’re barking up the wrong tree. I have no doubt that she’s my future. She’s been my world for a long ass time, and I’ve just been biding my time until we were older. Fate stepped in and made the choice for us. The only regret I have is the pain she’s endured that I wasn’t able to stop.”

  He’s so confident, so sure of his choice. I may not understand it, but he leaves me no room to doubt it. His love for her pours off him, each beat of his heart for her. I’ve never experienced it and not sure I want to; the vulnerability, the choice to put your entire happiness in someone else’s hands.

  Shit. This is exactly what I bitch to Bianca about . . . being vulnerable and opening herself up. I can see why she fights it so much. She’s grown up with them, seeing their unwavering love and commitment. She feels lost, not having a place in their world, and she’s looking for her own niche.

  “Okay, I get it. What can I do?” He doesn’t look at me. “Are you fucking kidding me? We had plans, we were doing this together.”

  “I’m just not sure I can leave her next year. It’s not set in stone, but I may have to stay close for school.”

  “Whatever.” I’m feeling as adrift as Bianca. This was the first thing I allowed myself to get excited about since Dana’s death, now he’s telling me plans may be changing. “Well, I’m doing it. I can’t put my life on hold for someone else.”

  “Fuck you, Dakota. I don’t expect you to understand, but I do expect your support. If I don’t have it, let me know, and this friendship doesn’t have to continue. One day, when you love someone, I’ll remind you of this scenario, and you’ll eat your words. We grew up differently, but love is the same. It commands you. It encases you. It becomes your whole world, and my whole world is a living hell at the moment. I’ll do anything to ease that pain for her.”

  I hold my hands up in surrender. This isn’t something I can comprehend, but I shouldn’t make him feel like he’s alone. “Okay, I’ll be supportive. Whatever you need, man.”

  “Right now I need to work off this rage before I beat the shit out of my father’s friend and associate. That wouldn’t work to my advantage.”

  “Then get your ass up, and let’s go.” An hour later, he’s somewhat calmer, but I can tell he has shit on his mind. Me . . . I’m gulping oxygen like I’m a ten pack a day smoker.

  “I’m gonna take off. You need me to help you to your car?” I hear him laughing behind me. I flip him off, not willing to waste precious air formulating words. I’m in good shape. I work out and run daily, but he had some serious aggression to work out today. “We still on for tonight?” I give him a thumbs-up. “Okay, remember I’ll have both girls, so I may need you to entertain Bianca so I can focus on Callie.” Shit. Fuck.

  “Whatever you need, man. I mean that.” I’m agreeing to the one thing that terrifies me. . . spending time with his sister. I can’t tell him that. If he finds out how I think of her, I will need help to my car . . . via a stretcher.

  “We’ll just meet you at the deli around the corner before the movie.” He takes off for his house, and I continue to catch my breath with my mind racing how I can apologize to Bianca. I’ve been so hard on her, pushed her away, and I’ve succeeded. Her actions scream it most of the time, but today she reached out to me. She showed just a hint of openness, and I need to embrace that. Her brother is going to have his hands full from now on. I need to be the one to look out for her. If I tell myself enough times that I’m doing this as a friend to Bronson, maybe I’ll believe it.

  “What the fuck are you wearing?” I hiss at Bianca. Bronson and Callie just left the deli, bailing on the movie, and I assured Bronson I’d take care of her.

  “Clothes.”

  “I think you left some of them at home.” Her shirt shows the tan complexion of her stomach, and my fingers are itching to caress it. She removes her jacket, and I damn near swallow my tongue. Her body is pure sin, and I shouldn’t have these thoughts.

  She’s my best friend’s sister.

  The Mob boss’s daughter.

  “If it offends you that much, don’t look.” Her quick tongue is masking the rejection my words made her feel.

  I grab her arm as she tries to exit the car. “Bianca, it doesn’t offend me. It turns me on. You want me to be real? I’m so fucking attracted to you, and you’re a mystery to me. It drives me crazy.”

  “Oh.”

  “That’s all you have to say. You’ve been playing this game with me for a year. Ho
t and cold. I get too close and you retreat. You push me and I decline. I don’t know what the fuck I want and after hearing the Bronson and Callie fiasco all day, I sure as hell am not ready to put someone else’s life above mine.”

  “I’m not playing games, Dakota. I’m actually trying to figure out what the fuck I want, who the hell I am outside of my family. If you want real, I can tell you, you’ve starred in many of my dreams. You’re the one I reach out to when I need a bit of stability. I don’t want Callie and Bronson. I’m not asking you for forever, I don’t know that I’m capable of giving that to you.”

  “So what now?”

  “Why do we have to label it?”

  “Isn’t that the guy’s line?”

  “I can assure you I don’t have a dick . . . if you’d like to check for yourself,” she whispers as she leans toward me over the console. And I lose my mind. I don’t just meet her halfway. I race to close the distance and then haul her over to me. Plastering her against me, I seal my lips over hers, my tongue demanding entrance. She intoxicates me. Her scent, the velvety feel of her tongue as it slides against mine, her whimpers, her hands fisting my shirt . . . her total submission. Bianca Agosto is a paradox, a siren that likes to battle for control, but doesn’t really want it. It’s the chase she is after. She lets me take the lead. I remove her hands from my shirt and pin them both behind her back with one hand, while my other goes to the back of her head, fisting her hair. I angle her head back and take advantage of the access to her neck it allows me. Biting, then soothing with my tongue, the column of her neck down to her collarbone.

  “I can assure you, when I want to find out, I will have no problem doing so.” Her eyes flutter, she’s trying to regain awareness; I release her hands and hair, stop my kisses, and meet her gaze. She can wreck me if I risk it. She can’t have that chance.

  “So what now?”

  “Now, we’re just us . . . with benefits.”