Femme Fatale Loved (Pericolo #3)

by Kirsty-Anne Still

  “I don’t have to hold up the mask with you around.” She gives me a wink and settles down. “I know I was awful yesterday, but you caught me off guard then were hell-bent on dragging me back a few years.”

  “I’m still hell-bent on that,” I muse, hoping not to rub her the wrong way.

  “I’m ready for it,” she replies, a small smile tugs at the corners of her lips. “Now, what’s going on with you, Amelia? What’s going on with the entire Abbiati clan?”

  I mull over the multiple avenues I could drive this conversation. I could go down the Enzo route and keep my focus on that, or I could divert the whole thing and give her the entire story. No cut corners, no misleading information, just the God’s honest truth.

  “We’re not the same as we were,” I comment, my gaze dropping. “We’re finally out from under our father, but we’re all struggling with what we have now. We’re not used to it, and without Manuel around, it’s a constant reminder of what we lost.”

  “What happened with Giovanni?” she asks, her tone softer than before.

  “He ran off to the Amalfi Coast.”

  “Cowardly bastardo,” she mutters, pushing her fruit around her plate. “He always did have issues with confronting his actions. He could always do the deed and beautifully turn a blind eye. Why am I surprised he’s not faced up to this one?”

  “I don’t think he ever will,” I remark, my throat tightening as we delve into this matter. “He got what he wanted and ran. We were spiraling long before he did that, but we’re now trying to rebuild bit by bit.”

  “And Zane?” she asks, cocking a brow at me.

  “Trying to get a pretty little rock on my finger,” I comment, a smile masking my face.

  She cocks a brow at me. “Trying?”

  “I’m being stubborn,” I comment, muttering the words. “I keep saying no.”

  “Amelia,” she groans, rolling her eyes. “What is wrong with you?”

  I lower my gaze and feel ashamed of myself. Every girl dreams of this, but here I am squandering my chances. “I’m scared it’ll change everything.”

  “Of course, it will! That’s the point!” she exclaims, and while she laughs, I can tell it stings to face up to the fact I’m postponing my own engagement when hers with Enzo was cut short. “So you have this man who has fought for you, your soul mate, your better half, and you keep shutting him down ...”

  “I’m waiting for the right moment,” I say, trying to find a good enough reason.

  “The right moment doesn’t exist. It’s a myth, Amelia.” She then chortles in disbelief. “I can’t believe you’re still running scared of that man.”

  “I’m not running scared of Zane. I live with him!” I reply, exclaiming the fact. “How can I run scared of that?”

  “It’s full-blown commitment when you say yes,” she replies, using her fork to point at me. “You have Zane where you want him, but it’s not total commitment. You know how you’ve ended up because of him, so you’re scared to get any deeper to find out he can still leave you high and dry.”

  “That’s not it,” I say, squashing her theory in one.

  “Then what is it?”

  I feel like the world around us drops away. Even as our food and drinks arrive, the world just doesn’t seem to exist around us. It’s just Alessa and me at this moment. She’s the first person I’ve discussed this with since finding out. The boys all found out after Zane and I had that blow-up about me not being enough for him, and consequently, Allana found out, and it spiraled. Alessa is the first person I’ve had the chance to confide in about it since then.

  “Erm,” I begin, struggling to find my starting point. “What Giovanni did to me wasn’t just temporary. The injuries he inflicted will make it near impossible for me to conceive ... I’m worried that Zane will marry me and want a family, and he’ll eventually resent his choice of picking me because I can’t give him everything. He’s given me the run up to it, why wouldn’t he want the two point five children, too?”

  Because I want that, too, my mind bellows in anguish. I want it all. I greedily want to give Zane every sort of happiness possible. I want to feel his child in me, I want to see his face when they’re born, and I want to watch them grow in the most loving family I have known. I know there is adoption and surrogacy, they’ve always been options, but I want to live every moment of making a family. I can’t do that with someone else carrying our child.

  “Have you been told it’s an impossibility?” Alessa asks, leaning in slightly to offer us a little more privacy. I nod, and she scowls. “When?”

  “When I woke up in the hospital,” I state and take a deep inhale as if to help build courage and fight the tears. “The doctor told me quite categorically that the damage in my lower abdomen was detrimental, and even if I were to conceive, I’d be high risk and probably wouldn’t carry to full term.” I offer her a sad smile, trying to tie my bravado together. “He’s gone, but he’s still casting a shadow over us. He’s going to destroy our happiness for years to come.”

  “If you let him,” Alessa remarks, tilting her head to the side as if to tell me she’s right on this matter. “I know that brother of yours, and he likes all the attention on him. If he doesn’t get it, he acts up. Mark my words, Lia, he will be back when people quit paying him a damn bit of attention. He’ll hate that he’s wasted it all away. You no longer live with that coglione you call a father, you’ve moved out and moved on by the sounds of it. And you’ve done the one thing Giovanni thought you’d never do without him or Salvatore ... survive.” She then smirks, giving me the once-over. “From what I see, you’re doing it quite well at that.”

  “We are,” I agree, smiling at the thought of the life back home. “Well, most of us.”

  “How is he doing?” she asks, and I know she means Enzo. “What has him unable to move on anymore?”

  “Anymore?” I scoff, laughing at her. “He never moved on. He bore that cross every day because he felt he deserved it. What he did to you will be a scar he’ll bear for everyone to see.” I watch her, unable to understand how she can even begin to think breaking her heart ended there. “He broke his heart the moment he broke yours.”

  “But he decided that,” Alessa retorts coldly, her eyes narrow upon me.

  “To save you,” I snap back, narrowing my gaze. “He knows more than most what our life does to those we love. We saw it happen with our mother, so when he knew how he felt for you and our father closed ranks, he knew he had to eliminate the threat on you. In doing that, he had to break your heart.”

  “Why? I don’t understand that.”

  “To make sure you didn’t come back,” I comment and watch the icy cold realization fall upon her. “If he gave you an inkling of hope, he knew you’d come home. One shred of hope meant you wouldn’t move on, so he did the worst he could.”

  “Well, it worked,” she sneers, picking at her food as if to distract herself. “He left a mark I can’t wash off.”

  “Like you left on him,” I answer, retorting to her comment, and she looks up at me. “I have watched him live every day plastering a smile on his face, trying to hide behind the loyal brother act, but I saw right through it every time. My brother destroyed his life to save you from any possibility of harm and to look over Manuel and me.”

  “I would’ve stuck by him,” she answers fiercely.

  “I know you would, and so did he.” I try to offer an understanding smile, but it’s hard to put myself in the shoes of a man who carries guilt around with his every step. “The problem is he buried that grief and guilt and then when Giovanni attacked us and killed Manuel, it all came out. He lost his way when he woke up to find out Manuel was gone, and I was in a coma. He fought to come back when I begged him, but while we all settled down, it became apparent that he was never going to be happy. He lost his chance, and he never searched for another.”

  “Why not?” she asks, furrowing her brow. I can see she’s skeptical to any and all responses that form
in her head as a reaction. “Any girl would be lucky to have him.”

  “He had his chance with his dream girl, and he broke her.” I purse my lips, making sure she realizes I’m talking about her. “He can’t find another.”

  “I’ve been here waiting,” Alessa says, a slight groan to her voice as she realizes how messed up life has become. “I always waited.”

  I know finding out the truth of her relationship status is looming, and I wonder if this is going to turn catastrophic. While she’s distracted sipping her mimosa, I decide to strike.

  “He actually came and found you.” I drop the bombshell, and as I had predicted, she nearly spits her drink out. “He flew out here a few months back. He found out where you were and came to you.”

  “I didn’t know,” Alessa replies, stricken by my claim.

  “You wouldn’t have because he fled the same day and came home,” I retort, finding myself getting nervous about broaching this. This is the do-or-die moment. This is the end game, the result, the punch line. “He saw you in a jeweler’s putting a ring on then hugging a man.”

  “And he assumed I was with said man?” Alessa asks, her face darkening with thunderous thoughts. “Why are men such bastardos?” she asks, shaking her head in dismay, and I can see this hasn’t settled fully. “I cannot believe he’d come here, assume such a thing, and not approach me.”

  “He was pretty convinced,” I say, shrugging. “He won’t hear of anything to do with you now that he knows you’re engaged. I tried, and he shut me down. He’s more broken for knowing you managed to fall in love again.”

  Alessa laughs out loud, throwing her head back. “I am nowhere near engaged, not even remotely close to it! The last time I was, was to that bastardo himself!”

  “Oh.” I feel the blood drain from my face.

  “Let’s get one thing clear here,” she leers at me, pointing a finger at me. “I am not in love with anyone else but your brother, and that is how it’s going to stay for a long time. It might sound crazy, but no man has lived up to Enzo. No man ever will. Simple.” She heaves a sigh, releasing a huge amount of anger. “I have fought hard to move on, to date others, but I know there is more for Enzo and me, and I cannot give up on that. It might not be right now, but in the future, we’re together. Now, though, I’m not so sure if he’s given himself the most ridiculous fucking idea ever!”

  She sets her elbows onto the table, her hands coursing up into the brunette curls.

  “Bastardo maledetto,” she cusses, clearly calling Enzo a fucking bastard. “Cazzo!” she swears, thankfully saying fuck loudly in Italian so not many people notice. “Your brother can be a stupid stronzo some days.”

  I laugh, nodding my head that sometimes Enzo can be an asshole. She’s not wrong there, but I also understand he isn’t perfect. He’s broken enough to be relatable but strong enough to make the right decisions for the most part.

  “He ruined our potential reunion because he jumped the gun and assumed,” she growls, and I watch her face redden. “We’re going,” she remarks throwing out forty dollars and standing up.

  “But we’re not finished eating,” I say, pointing to our half-eaten food.

  “I don’t care; we’ll get food later. I need you to understand what he saw.”

  She rushes out onto the boardwalk, and I feel like I’m following a scorched trail as I trace her every step in a bid to keep up. I’m astonished how fast she’s able to run in her Louboutins because right now, I’m struggling to catch up in sandals – not a defeat I, Amelia Abbiati, would have ever thought I would have to admit! I have no idea where we’re going, and if I have to admit, I can feel a lump forming in my throat.

  “Alessa!” I growl at her as she continues to stalk off. “For Christ’s sake, will you slow down?! I feel like I’ve done a hundred mile hike to find you, and now, you have me running after you. This isn’t a triathlon; it’s a fucking intervention!”

  She laughs, finally slowing down in front of her pristine pale blue Cadillac. I grin when I see it, and while she notices the nostalgic look I have on my face, she laughs at me.

  “First, I offered to pick you up. Second, you used to be fit and buff, so what happened? Third, I never needed an intervention; your brother just needs a massive fucking wake-up call.” She stills for all of two seconds to cock her hip and place her hand on it. “Last, I’m too angry to think of anything else but taking you to see something that will make you believe me completely.”

  “I believe you already,” I say, fighting with her as she unlocks the doors and marches to the driver’s side.

  She stills, pausing before getting into her car. “Maybe so, but I have another reason for taking you where I am.”

  “Like what?”

  “You coming?” she asks, sweetly, completely evading my question.

  Bitch. My body sags in defeat as I silently open the door and slide in. My action tells her everything she needs to know as she puts the key into the ignition and kick starts the engine. We join the traffic, hitting the freeway pretty quickly, and I watch as the houses whizz past, and the beach runs beside us, all the while wondering where the fuck we could possibly be going that would hold some sort of significance to her and me. When we finally make it to a suburban area, the traffic dwindles. By the time we pull into a parking lot, it’s like we’ve entered a completely different world – it’s quiet here, peaceful, tranquil.

  I look at Alessa as she turns the engine off and gazes at me. I wonder why she’s looking at me so worrisome. I frown, feeling my brow draw together, as I question her quietly before asking her what the hell has her looking at me.

  “What?”

  “You okay?” she asks me, her hand poised on the door handle. “You look a little pale.”

  “I’m fine,” I feign, giving her my biggest smile. I don’t know why she’s so worried.

  “Amelia,” she replies, a stern, coercing tone.

  “I don’t feel wonderful, but then look what’s been happening the past couple of days. I’ve barely eaten, barely drank anything, and I didn’t sleep great. It’ll pass.” I offer another smile, trying to pacify her worry, but it doesn’t work. “I just feel like I’ve overdone it already. Apparently, I’m not as fit as I used to be,” I joke, laughing to break her concern as I use her own joke back at her. “Now,” I state, turning my gaze back to the building in front of us and focusing on the welcome sign. “Why are we at a rehab center?”

  “To show you something,” she states, evidently keeping the rest to herself. “Just follow.”

  I do as I’m told, stepping out of the car and allowing her to lead the way. As we approach the modest building, that familiar scent that causes you to shiver in hospitals welcomes me – that scent of disinfectant and death. My mind transports me back to that time after waking up after the attack, the scent overwhelms me the longer I remain watching that film roll in the back of mind. I shake it away, reminding myself that this isn’t a hospital. No one dies here; this is the end game for people’s recoveries.

  We walk in silence through the corridors, barely making a noise except for the members of staff who clearly know Alessa. It shocks me that they call her Alice, but it reminds me that I have to pry later – preferably over a few drinks when her tongue’s a little looser.

  As we pull to a halt in a cream-colored corridor, photos of achievement beside us on the right and large windows on the right, Alessa turns to face the room and begins to smile proudly as she looks in. I gaze in, but I’m confused. I see a member of staff and a tall, broad man with a petite brunette in a wheelchair.

  “That’s why I had the ring on,” Alessa comments, nodding toward a wide-open space full of physiotherapy equipment. “They’re two of my closest friends in Cali. Brett saved Danielle’s life after a drunk driver ran them off the road about seven months ago. Danielle lost the ability to walk and pushed Brett away pretty much as soon as her doctor announced her prognosis. He fought her when she cried for him to leave her behind and forge
t they had a life together. He saved her from that car because he loved her, he sat by her bedside because he adored her, and he asked me to help with a ring so he could make her a promise of forever. He wanted her to be his wife whether she could walk or not.”

  I stare at the couple, the man – Brett – helping Danielle stand between the two bars while her legs struggle with the weight of her body. While she struggles to make her first shaky step, he cheers her on, empowers her, and encourages her. He gave her no room to falter, and there was no chance she could doubt the faith he had in her.

  “So you see you don’t have to offer Zane the world to make him happy. Sometimes, offering him every part of you, Amelia, is enough. I know there’s a lot of baggage that comes with you. God, I’ve seen you carry it everywhere you go, but he already seems willing to carry it for you. So don’t fight to give him the world when all he wants is you. The world is just an added gift.”

  I feel as if I’ve been rocked to the core as she speaks. Alessa has always understood me most, very much becoming a mother figure in the absence of my own. She could see straight through any mask I wore, would tear down every wall I tried to fortify, and would, without a doubt, give me the perfect advice – even if she couldn’t follow it herself.

  “Not everything has to be perfect to be perfect ... if you catch my drift?” she asks, giving me a curt look, and I nod. She turns back to face her friends before talking again. “Brett wanted the perfect ring for Danielle. He struggled with that and the size. I’m the same size ring as she is, and that final ring I tried on was perfect, and I couldn’t contain my excitement that we had found a ring that Danielle would love. That’s what Enzo witnessed.” She shakes her head at what I can only guess is the thoughts in her head. “His guilt didn’t help with making that conjecture fit whatever logic he made himself believe.”

  I am at a loss for words. Coming here, seeing that sight of true love, has made me evaluate how little I really praise Zane for his love. I have that type of love waiting at home. There’s been the proof, the support, the adoration. Why am I running scared of solidifying what I already know?!