Femme Fatale Loved (Pericolo #3)

by Kirsty-Anne Still

  “Amelia and Zane,” everyone parrots after, together as a chorus.

  ***

  We make it through the meal, through a round of banter before I can’t ignore my screaming bladder any longer.

  “I’ll be right back,” I excuse myself, kissing Zane’s cheek as I leave.

  I head into the house, rushing straight to the bathroom. No one warned me I’d need to pee this often once I was pregnant. Allana kept that one to herself! I can see this one thing will drive me the craziest. When I’m done, I slide my rings off and take a moment after washing my hands to stare at the rings on my finger. They’re white gold, and while my engagement ring has a large diamond ring lined with tiny ones, my wedding ring is a simple band with diamonds running all around it. Zane surpassed himself on this one, and the longer I stare at it, the more I’m in disbelief these are mine.

  Stealing my gaze away, I look at myself in the mirror. I feel like the perfect bride today.

  “Mrs. Zane Maverick,” I whisper to my reflection, the sound not sounding like my own voice. I giggle like a schoolgirl falling for her first crush.

  Taking one last look, I smile and leave the small downstairs bathroom. I get to the middle of the front room before I realize I’ve forgotten both my rings. Rushing back, I grab them from beside the basin and quickly put them back on. I’m paranoid of multiple things with these now – getting them wet, losing them, doing something that causes them to lose their shine. I know it will die off; I was like that when I first put my engagement ring on, but that paranoia waned quickly.

  However, coming back out, I feel like I’m being watched. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up on end, and I feel my breathing become shallower.

  When I turn around to face the large windows that face onto the front yard, my breathing stops altogether.

  I see a pair of piercing green eyes watching me through the glass panes of my front room. My father stands in the middle of the path that leads up to my house, dressed sharply in a suit, but with the same tiresomely, guilt riddled expression that he’s allowed to consume him over the last year. I watch his jaw drop at the sight of me, and I don’t stand staring. I gravitate to the front of the house, checking over my shoulder to see if I’m alone, and quickly slip outside.

  “Amelia,” my father breathes, clearly taken aback by my choice of attire.

  “You shouldn’t be around here,” I say to him, cutting him off. “There’s no place for you here.”

  He doesn’t respond or back away. Instead, he gives me the once-over, taking in my white gown and my happier exterior. I can see the longer he stares, the more he regrets. He missed one of the most prestigious moments of an Italian man’s life – giving his daughter the wedding of all weddings, showering her with admiration and adoration, and giving her away. He’ll never get a chance to do that now.

  “You look every bit as beautiful as I always imagined you would,” he states, his eyes slowly drawing up to meet mine. He even gives me a small smile as our eyes meet across the distance. “Is he treating you well?”

  “I wouldn’t have married him if he wasn’t,” I reply, my tone emotionless. “Why are you here, Sal?” I ask, resisting crossing my arms across my chest. I don’t want to accentuate my tiny baby bump because I don’t want him to know that I am carrying his future grandchild. “You have no right coming here.”

  “I couldn’t stay away.” His comment is greeted with silence. I don’t gasp, don’t splutter for words. I just carry on staring at him. “You’re still my daughter.”

  “When it suits you,” I’m quick to remark. “Where was that concern a year ago?”

  “I know I did a lot of things wrong,” he says, causing me to scoff. “Losing you all has shown me the true cost of my actions. Had I known the consequence of living my life as I did, I would’ve fought so hard to keep you. Losing you and your brothers has devastated my life.”

  “What about Madre?” I ask, not allowing myself to be duped. “You killed her, Sal. That was your choice. That wasn’t a consequence of your life. You chose to take her away from all of us. Just like Gio decided to do that with Manuel. You and Gio both opted to hurt your own.”

  He barely looks at me now. “I have paid for that.”

  “No, you haven’t!” I roar. While trying to keep my voice down, I can’t dampen my anger. “You have never paid for any of your sins until your children started to turn against you. Our leaving wasn’t even the worse punishment we could have bestowed upon you. You deserve to feel a lot more pain than you have.”

  I can see my father’s taken aback by what I state; his eyes water when he realizes there is no going back from our tattered state. I want him to believe that I’m emotionally dead when it comes to him. While the inner battle I have is a far greater struggle.

  “Tell me one thing,” I muse, capturing his sole attention once more. “Did you kill Gio?”

  “No, I didn’t kill your brother,” my father announces, and while he sounds solemn, I notice the disappointment. “Your uncle did.” I watch his crestfallen face sallow; his eyes become a deeper shade of sadness. “I’m sorry, Amelia, but even after all that has happened, I couldn’t kill him. Much like I could never kill any of you. He was still my child; he used to be so loving, so caring. I couldn’t kill him. I now know why you felt so betrayed by me. I’m a coward; Giovanni’s death solidified that in stone.”

  “That’s enough,” I reply, backing myself away from him. “I have to go.”

  “Amelia,” he says, the tears fall thick and fast for him. “I’m sorry I pushed you to the point you can no longer love me. I’m sorry I gave up on you and your brothers a long time ago. I’m sorry for not being the father you used to dote upon.” He’s braving the moment to tell me the truth, but they do nothing to suffice the cast iron lock I’ve put on my emotions toward him. His simple apologies do nothing to chink the armor I’ve been forced to protect myself with. “I just had to see you one last time before I take myself out of your lives for good. I won’t play god with your happiness ever again. I won’t intervene when I’m proud of the life you’ve formed for yourselves out here. Whatever happens from here on out is for the greater good.”

  I can feel my eyes water, the lump in my throat coming back with a vengeance. “Don’t come back, Sal, please, because I can’t take the constant battle I have to fight to remind myself that you almost destroyed me.”

  “This was never what I wanted,” my father argues, taking a step closer, to which I back away. One moment, he was willing to leave, but now, he’s grappling onto that one final piece of fight he has left.

  “Maybe not, but you made it happen.” I can feel my jaw tensing up, my nerves becoming worn. “I’m not the only one who doesn’t want you here anymore. We all need time to heal and move on. We need to have the chance to thrive without you. Can you not give us that?” I find myself unwilling to hear his response. I put my hand up to stop him as he prepares to speak. “Don’t answer me. You’ll only try to appeal to my softer side. I have to get back to my wedding.”

  I rush away from him, unable to be near him and terrified I’ll lose my resolve. I want nothing more than to have my father back, but the man I used to love is beyond revival. I hate that some part of me still pines for this man in the same way I used to. How can I even begin to hope he’ll revert to the man he was and love me until I forgive? How can I allow my father, a man I’ve dubbed a monster, to still have an effect on me?

  It’s tiring.

  I make it back inside, closing the door with a soft push before putting my back to the wood and glass and sighing a breath of relief. I remain flush against the door, my eyes closed, my heart palpitating.

  “Amelia?” Zane’s voice sounds pained as he finds me with a fallen expression, collapsed against the door. “Are you okay?”

  I nod, smiling slightly. “Sal’s outside.” I hate how I sound exasperated by saying that one comment.

  Gently taking my hand, Zane leads me from the door, only to o
pen it.

  “Hey, Sal,” Zane calls out from the doorway. When my father turns back, Zane pulls me back from the house and toward my father as he resists getting into his car. “I wish you could’ve been a part of today. I wish you could’ve been there to see how stunning she looked when she walked out ready to marry me. I wish you could have lived the last year with us, all of it.

  “If you ever come near my wife and our family again, I won’t hesitate to react. I watched you when you tore her apart. I watched for years as you made Amelia what you wanted her to be, what you loved her being. You can’t come into her life being the father she longed for you to be.”

  “I know that,” my father responds, a voice that holds no conviction executing the words.

  “Do you?” Zane asks, releasing my hand to approach my father. The only thing separating the pair of them is the picket fence. “I have seen Amelia sob because she lost you, and the hardest part is watching her struggle with herself because she lost you long before she truly realized. That woman behind me kept her loyalty to you as an utmost importance in her life, to the point she nearly gave up on allowing herself to find true love.”

  “She clearly chose you in the end,” my father utters.

  “Only because I fought for her!” Zane’s voice is sharper than ever now. “Even now you don’t see it, do you? Amelia only ever wanted someone to fight for her. She only ever wanted someone to show that she was worthy of a good fight, that she was worth being loved. You gave her every reason to give up on you when you gave up on her. She gave you multiple moments along the way to realize that she was vying for you to be the man she loved. She lost her fight because you gave up first.”

  This time, my father doesn’t reply; he seems to take the words on and sober up. Apparently, Zane is the first person to really strike the right nerve with my father.

  “I’m sorry you became the man you did, Salvatore. I’m even sorrier you’ll never get a chance to see the woman Amelia will become.” Zane backs away, coming to stand beside me in the candlelit pathway, the moon and stars twinkling around us. “I’m sorry you’ll never see what your sons become, what this family will become now that they’ve been granted the chance to dream.” He puts his arm around my back, his hand coming to sit on my waist. “Now, it’s my wedding night, so I’m going to take my beautiful wife back inside and dance the night away with her.”

  As we make it back inside, Zane shuts the door, locking it. He pulls me close, holding me how he did during our first dance. He kisses my neck, allowing his arms to roam a little.

  “Now that he’s gone, I can enjoy the rest of my evening.” Zane’s comments as he kisses his way to my lips, peering down at me between gentle kisses. “I’m looking forward to everyone getting a move on and leaving,” he says, pushing me against the wall at the bottom of our stairs. I stand flush, pinned beneath my husband’s aching body. “I made the neighbors remember your name once,” Zane quips devilishly. “It’s time to do it again, Mrs. Maverick.”

  EPILOGUE

  A chill bites through the air as it whips around me. It causes me to pull my coat around me as I walk, but it doesn’t deter me.

  It’s now October, and I’m almost eight months into my pregnancy. To say this life has cast us into a whirlwind has been an understatement. Now, as we found it all settling, we decided to take a new path in life, a new route, a fresh adventure.

  "We're moving." My words cut the air finely, and I breathe in deeply. "We wanted to set up home properly, without any threats, without Sal, without our past always there on the doorstep. Zane and I have been thinking it over for months now, but I need a clean slate. I want that for our child. Your niece or nephew deserves to grow up away from the life we did." I sigh, reaching out to pick away some of the fallen leaves away from the marble step that leads onto the crypt. "I didn't intend for the boys to follow, though. They shocked me. They’re all settled for the most part, but where one Abbiati goes, the others are sure to follow. We’re all here for one another; we’re all at that point we always wanted. We’re the family Madre fought for.”

  There’s a moment where I just trail my gaze over the words on the plaques. It’s almost cathartic, and I know the only reason I’ll come back to Manhattan is to come here. There is no other reason; not even my grandfather can stay here on his own any longer.

  “Please, don’t think it’s because I’m leaving you, Manuel. I just need to secure my happily ever after. I have to make sure my family is safe, but I just needed to see you one last time. I just needed to say a proper farewell.” As I slowly rise to my feet, I fight with my nerves and force my tears back down. “I love you both. See you soon.”

  I walk across the cemetery, leaving my brother and mother in peace. I thought I would feel as if I were walking away from the better parts of my life, but those come with me wherever I go. This life we’re building is the life our mother wanted for us, the life she dreamed of, the one she died trying to make happen.

  “There she is! There’s my wife!” Zane shouts as I start to make the final few yards to the main gate.

  He was leaning against our SUV as I turned onto the final walk, but as soon as he saw me, he stood up, pushing himself away from the side of the car to come and wait for me by the gates. Even now, months after our wedding, he gives me the brightest grin every time he sees me. Every day it seems to grow.

  As I leave the cemetery to approach him, I set a hand on my baby bump and just smile at him as I wait for what he’s about to say next. He looks excited, that cheeky little look on his face mesmerizes me.

  “So,” he begins, walking to me, only to turn and put his arm around my shoulder and lead me to the passenger side of our SUV. “Where to, Mrs. Maverick?”

  I smirk, looking up at him. “To California, Mr. Maverick.”

  We’ve never left the honeymoon period.

  And I don’t intend to anytime soon.

  THE END

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Author, graphic designer, book worm, peppermint tea obsessive.

  Kirsty-Anne is a British author who stumbled across her love for writing just as she started university. Over the last couple of years she's found the style of writing that best defines her and her work. Her favourite genres to write are romantic suspense with dark themes, but loves to push her boundaries.

  Starting off writing and posting on Fanfiction, Kirsty-Anne has since written books in the romantic suspense/ thriller, mafia-romance, and dark romance genre.

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