The waiter grabs the bottle of wine, a vintage from Tuscany, and pours a glass for me. “All right.”
He swirls his glass over the white tablecloth and lifts it to his lips. “Tabarnak, c’est bon.” Fuck, it’s good.
My hand curls over the stem of the wineglass, and I take a small mouthful. It’s pretty fucking good—dry and full of flavor. I set the glass down, avoiding his painful stare.
“I’ve bad news about Turner Construction,” I say finally, lifting my head to meet his eyes. “They won’t do business with us.”
Johnny doesn’t say anything for a moment, but a sudden, caustic, burning heat flares from his eyeballs. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
I swallow hard. “They’re an American company—they don’t do business like us. They can’t accept bribes.”
“Then you make them understand how it’s done.”
I grit my teeth from the rumble in his voice. “I tried leaning on the boss a little, but I think they’re just going to leave Montreal. They just don’t want to deal with us. I’m sorry, John.”
There’s nothing but the sound of people talking, the clatter of silverware, and John’s frozen stare boring into my skull. He opens his mouth.
“I’m really disappointed with you, Tony. I thought you were a better negotiator.”
I clench my hands over the table, feeling a surge of anger.
Don’t get angry at the boss.
2
Elena
TWO WEEKS AGO
The world undulates in my head, continuously roaring as I stumble past New York City traffic. I feel as though I’m walking inside a bubble that distorts everything I see. Everything’s too loud, too fast. My head pounds, still echoing with the blows. It all sounds hollow.
I trip on something hard and fall on my knee. My jeans tear open and I feel a sharp sting. There are bits of gravel digging into the red gash. I brush them away carelessly and turn toward my sister’s apartment. How the hell did I ever make it here?
My balled-up fist hammers on the frozen door. It’s freezing outside, but for once I’m grateful for that. It soothes the aches on my face and my swollen eye. For a moment I think about pressing my whole body against the wood, but then the heavy door flies open.
My sister stands in the doorway of her brownstone, baby in arm, looking leggy and fabulous. Her gasp of horror suddenly chokes into laughter.
A cold feeling stabs my gut.
“Jesus, what happened to your face?”
Now that I’m so close to the entrance, the last bit of adrenaline fades and I clutch the iron rail to steady myself.
What the fuck do you think happened?
“Rafael hit me,” I say, swallowing hard when a triumphant smile stretches over her face. “I really need a place to stay.”
“I told you a thousand times, didn’t I? I warned you about him, but no, you had to have the bad boy.”
Yeah, she warned me about dating Dad’s associates. I didn’t care. He was intoxicating and full of life—Dad gave him his blessing. If Dad liked him, so would I.
I was so naive back then. He’s a monster—they’re all monsters, and the only thing that kept him from eating me alive was my father. It all changed so quickly.
“I know you warned me, but I really need your help now. I need a place to stay.”
Hating the tremble in my voice, I stand up straighter to make me feel less weak.
Maria adjusts the baby on her hip and narrows her eyebrows, the high arches fixed in an expression of contempt. “You got yourself into this mess, and you can get yourself out of it. Too bad Daddy isn’t here anymore to fix it for you.”
A gust of icy wind blows across my face, almost as if summoned by magic by her cruel words. Her perfect indifference stuns me. It hurts so much that my legs tremble and freezing wetness gathers at the corners of my eyes. For God’s sake, she needs to push aside her sibling rivalry or whatever fucking grudge she has against me. This is serious.
“I need your help. I’m desperate.”
“Go to Mom’s house.”
I shiver violently in the cold, wishing that my goddamn sister would let me in the damn house to continue the conversation.
“The feds seized it. They’re giving her a couple weeks to move out. They’re taking everything. We don’t have any money. They froze the bank accounts.”
“I know. I’ve been giving Ma cash for a while, but you’re on your own.” Her face twists in malevolence. “You always were a spoiled little brat.”
Fine, I could live without money, but I couldn’t keep living with Rafael.
“At least give me a place to stay! I really need to get away from him.”
A sad smile flickers on her sour face.
“You know as well as I do that he’ll just drag you back.”
My eyes burn as the truth of that statement sinks in. The air swallows my choked sobs, and Maria reaches outside for a moment to pat my shoulder.
“He’ll get bored of you eventually and move on to someone else. They always do,” she adds bitterly. “Now, go. If he finds out you’ve been here, you’ll be in worse trouble.”
She closes the door and the Christmas wreath bangs loudly in my face.
Where the hell am I supposed to go?
* * *
They called me the Mafia princess.
I was the boss’s daughter.
When I was old enough to realize Daddy wasn’t exactly living a normal man’s life, I started reading the papers. All the violence splashed over the pages and my dad’s name interwoven with the stories horrified me, at first. Why did so many people hate him? Why were the cops always harassing him? Then I remember watching him shake hands with the mayor, and I was in awe. He was a tough guy. He was a villain, yes, but he was my villain. Nobody could touch him, or me by extension. His men were always respectful toward me, afraid of saying anything that could get their heads chopped off.
I’m not an idiot. I know who my dad was, even though he sheltered me from the life—from the violence. The boys I grew up with, who later became his associates, were like family to me. They were always around the house, picking up Dad to drive him places, even to have dinner with the family.
And then he was murdered and they completely disappeared.
Shame weighs on my heart as I trudge up the icy subway steps.
There was only really one rule in our family, growing up.
Don’t ever talk.
Don’t talk to the press, don’t talk to outsiders, and definitely, never, ever talk to the police. It was like a mantra in our house. Every time there was an indictment, Mom would drill the rules in our skulls.
But he talked.
He talked to the feds. I found out from the agents who visited our home just before they raided it and began taking everything that wasn’t bolted to the floor. They told us that my dad’s body was found in an abandoned farm in east Jersey, riddled with bullet holes.
None of his friends came to the funeral.
I know he was a rat, but he was still my dad. He adored me, and yes, spoiled me a little more than my brother and sister. Now he’s gone, along with his protection. I’m not the boss’s daughter anymore. I’m just the daughter of a traitor.
My hand trembles over the handle of the pork-deli store where my father used to hang out. We used to get our meat here all the time. Vinny, the new boss, should be there. A wave of self-disgust rises like caustic acid in my throat.
Worst of all is that I know who’s responsible for my father’s murder, and I’m about to go to him for help. The idea sickens me, but I am literally out of options. Last resort.
This could be a huge fucking mistake.
I try to glance inside, to check the moving shadows and see if one of them resembles Vinny. A large, warped form suddenly appears at the frosted glass and the door swings open, revealing a young man who I vaguely recognize.
“Hello—holy shit!” His eyes widen as he takes in my appearance.
I
grit my teeth to stop the chatter against the cold. “Can I please see Vinny—Vincent?”
He steps aside and I sigh as warmth washes over my frozen limbs. Hours of walking on New York City’s streets made them numb with cold. The young man gazes at me in concern and takes my arm, as if he’s afraid I’ll keel over. We move past the few customers dallying in the cafe, who shoot me alarming looks, and head toward the back of the store. It’s a place I’ve never really been.
Please, let Rafael not be there. Please, God, he’ll kill me.
Fear boils in my stomach, making it turn as the coffee I had for breakfast burns holes inside me. I stop at another set of doors and try to see whether Rafael is in there. The young man opens the door before I can decide whether to go in or not and pulls me in a large room with a pool table, chairs, desk, and a dining room table. I spot Vinny hanging near his pool table, stick in his hand, as he laughs at something Nicky said beside him. Vinny is a tall, good-looking man about ten years older than I am. His laughter used to fill me with a warm glow, but now it grates against my ears. He has no fucking right to laugh when my father is dead. Everyone knows that he killed him. I know it was him—or at least one of these bastards.
Dad talked to the cops, so they killed him.
“Vince.”
The young man’s voice rings out, and I do a quick scan of the room. Sitting there on the edge of the pool table is the man I’m trying to avoid. He wears a black leather jacket over a red button-up shirt that I ironed for him this morning. Despite his little coke habit and alcohol problem, he always looks clean-shaven—just like you expect the devil to look. Handsome, attractive, and deadly. He stands up immediately, hands wrapping around his pool cue as if it’s my throat.
Oh no. Oh no.
Rafael takes a furious step forward, his handsome face twisted in a cruel grin. It says: I’m going to kill you later.
A loud, obnoxious voice rings across the room.
“Jesus Christ!”
Vinny finally notices me, the laughter evaporating from his face as he scans me.
The boy next to me faces him. “She said she wanted to see you.”
I would give everything in the world to make him take back those words. All the heart leaves me in an instant. Oh God, it was stupid to come here. I must have been delirious. Rafael stands right there, right there, and he knows exactly why I came.
“That’s not what I said! I just wanted deli meats—and to say hi. My mother and I, you know, we really don’t, we haven’t seen you in a while, and—”
Vinny raises a hand, cutting off my babbling nonsense as he walks closer to me. A mixture of fear and revulsion makes me want to vomit. Concern knits his face and he lifts a hand to my jaw. I flinch as his fingers touch the swollen area.
“I’m not gonna hurt you, hon. Who did this to you?”
Tears slowly well in my eyes because the first person to show concern for me is the man who probably killed my father. I glance at Rafael, whose features are taut with rage.
“N—nobody. It was an accident. I fell on some icy steps on the subway.”
Oh what a lame lie. You can’t think of something better?
It doesn’t fool Vinny. His hand drops from my face and he turns around to look at Rafael’s smooth, unconcerned one.
“You did this?”
“He didn’t!” Oh God.
“Of course not.”
But his tone is way off. I’m his girlfriend. If he didn’t do it, he should be apoplectic with rage. He should be throwing chairs across the room and screaming that how dare someone touch his girl. Instead, he just stands there. It’s as though he doesn’t care if Vince puts two and two together.
Vinny turns around, his fists clenched. “You’ve got some fucking nerve, lying to a boss.”
Rafael crosses his arms and makes a brave attempt at a smile. “It’s my fault she’s a klutz?”
The boss takes several strides toward him and Rafael’s fist tightens around the pool cue, and then suddenly Vinny’s fist smashes against the side of Rafael’s skull. My screams echo in the room as he topples to the ground with a cry of outrage.
No, no, no! He’s going to make it worse for me.
“I didn’t do shit to her!”
Enraged, Vinny brings back his foot and kicks out hard. Rafael’s face contorts with pain as his mouth makes a horrible, gasping sound.
“You want to fucking lie to me again? Huh?”
Rafael turns to his side and snarls at the boss. “What the fuck do you care about Jack’s daughter? I’m a fucking made guy, you have no right!”
The other men grab Vinny’s arms before he can do more damage, even though the boss looks as if he would like nothing better than to beat him to death.
“Degenerate fuck. Do it again, and you’ll be fucking sorry.”
He makes other furious moves toward Rafael, but the guys shove him back.
“Vince, calm down.”
They let him go and Vinny stands there for a moment, chest heaving. Then he runs a hand through his dark hair and walks away from Rafael, who picks himself off the floor and gives me a murderous look. I turn away from him, shaking, and almost jump when I feel Vinny’s hand on my shoulder.
“Come, I’ll get you some meat for your ma.”
Numb shock propels my feet forward, through the doors, and into the cafe. “Vince, I—he was telling the truth. He didn’t hit me.”
Energetic, black eyes cut right through me. “You don’t have to lie to me. People don’t get bruises like that from falling down. You don’t have to stay with him, either.”
Something in his voice compels me to drop the bullshit and just tell him the truth. Maybe it’s the faint anger I feel rustling in my chest. I don’t know if I want to accept help from the man who, well, murdered my father.
You killed my dad.
“If I leave, he’ll kill me. I don’t have anywhere else to go, anyway.”
The clerk behind the counter hands me a large package of deli meat wrapped in paper and I take it. “Thanks, Vincent.”
“Hey, wait—”
My face already burns with the hopelessness of it all, and I shrug off his hand on my shoulder and head toward the icy storm outside, hoping that it’ll swallow me.
* * *
The door opens.
It’s the worst sound in the world—a sound that fills me with terror, a sound that makes me want to scurry to the bathroom and lock the door. I dread it every day. Dread the moment his boots walk through the threshold, and even worse is the noise when he slams it shut because he’s always pissed these days.
Just go away. Just leave me alone.
But he won’t, especially after today.
I sink into the leather couch, hoping that I’ll become invisible. I stare straight ahead into the burning TV screen. Maybe there’s something on it that will distract him from his rage. I try to think back to when the sight of his face made me feel warm instead of cold with fear. He was never like this when Dad was alive—never laid a hand on me. He would never have dared—Dad would have killed him. We used to talk about getting engaged.
A painful twitch on my face makes me grimace.
“Are you fuckin’ laughing?”
I turn my head around painfully. His once-handsome face seems wasted away by rage. The leather jacket he wears makes him look like a cartoon villain, and I think for a moment how funny the whole thing is. Me, the boss’s daughter, stripped down to nothing but some whore for him to use and abuse. Whose own sister resents her for being the favorite, and won’t even save her from her abusive boyfriend.
It’s not really that funny.
“I’m not.”
The shorter my responses are, the better.
Don’t even look at him.
“You humiliated me in front of the people I work with. Do you have any fucking idea how bad that is?”
The sound of his footsteps makes me cringe, and then finally he stands in front of me, blocking the TV. I’m still paraly
zed with memories from the past, refusing to confront the ugly present. He stoops down and makes me. He seizes my painful jaw, forcing it upward.
“Look at me, you fucking cunt.”
“I didn’t mean to, Raf. I swear to God, I was just there for deli meat.”
He sneers at me. “And you needed to see Vincent for that? Fucking liar.”
A heavy hand slaps the wound on my face, sending me flying. He laughs as I catch myself on the couch. A surge of poisonous rage runs through my veins that I’m unable to act on.
Oh, what I would give to make the son of a bitch suffer like I have.
Instead, I use the only tool left in my arsenal. Tears. They fall down my face freely, because it’s so easy to cry these days. Normally I’m dead to the world, twisting in agony inside.
“Y-you used to be so sweet with me. I don’t understand why you’re like this.”
His weight sinks into the couch and his hand curls around my shoulder, pulling me upright and into his chest, where I just feel cold. I shrink from his closeness. For a moment I think it worked. That maybe some tiny human part of him hears my distress and feels guilty.
His lips sear the swollen side of my face as he kisses it, leading a trail to my ear. “I was sweet with you because your daddy would have killed me if I laid a hand on you.” His teeth bite down hard on my earlobe, and I grit my teeth.
Don’t cry out. Don’t let him win.
“You’re not the boss’s daughter anymore. You’re nothing.”
It shouldn’t hurt me to hear that from his worthless lips, but it does. It really does.
“You’re fuckin’ lucky I let you stick around.”
A small thrill rises in my chest. Why don’t you just leave me? I want to ask.
“Why do you?”
He plants another hot kiss on my neck, biting down hard enough to leave a bruise. This time I make a small squeak of pain and he lets me go, laughing. “I like being able to do whatever the fuck I want with you. Besides,” his voice drops down to a whisper, “I know about the money.”
A sick, swooping sensation curls around my stomach as feeling disappears from my limbs.
His Secret Baby (A Bad Boy Romance) Page 42
