by Anthology
When Giovanni catches sight of me in the kitchen, I make my move. I don’t want him to strike first, I want to surprise them all the best way I know how. I straighten up, square my shoulders, and don’t give a shit what he has to say. I’m here for the brothers who only ever sought to protect me. I just have to keep the smile on my face to see if they’re about to treat me differently.
“You didn’t bleed out then?” I say as I enter the veranda. My voice has them all whipping around to look at me and I just stand, a hand on my hip and a blasé look on my face. “Or die from sepsis? I’d have rather the latter, but I’m sorely disappointed to see you’re here looking sickeningly healthy.”
“And all peace on Earth disappears!” Giovanni exclaims, putting both hands up in the air in mock disarray. “And here, I was just getting used to not seeing your mess up of a face around here.”
“I thought it was best I come back just to piss you off,” I comment and catch Enzo staring at me. I look at him and my ice queen persona melts away. I strive to remain stoic and bold in the face of them all, but Enzo weakens me and I thaw quickly under his gaze. He doesn’t even have to speak and my walls begin to crack and weaken.
“What are you doing back?” Enzo asks, standing up. He’s the first to move and I don’t know if I should go in for a hug or remain where I am. “We weren’t told.”
“Well, then clearly this isn’t an intended happy reunion,” I joke mockingly. “Uncle Alberto told me to pack and leave. Said I was due back on business, so here I am,” I put my hands out as if to display myself more before continuing, “back on business.”
“How long for?” Enzo questions, cocking a brow to add to his curiosity.
“Well, that depends,” I reply and feel the sweat begin to pour to down my back and gather across my forehead. It’s cold and unforgiving, and I hate how nervous I am. “Do I still have a room?”
“Lia,” Enzo starts softly, working toward me, and I fear the worst. “Your bedroom is still yours. We’ve been waiting for months for you to come home. Why would you think we would get rid of any of your things?”
“For what I did,” I announce and avert eye contact. I look at the floor and argue with myself to become the bitch I was, but there is something about my brother. Within all of my destruction, Enzo is that salvation I never thought I’d feel.
“They deserved it,” Carlo’s voice erupts from behind Enzo, and I look up to find him standing there with Manuel beside him. “You didn’t deserve to be carted off like that.”
“Yes, she fucking did!” Giovanni declares, slamming his drink down onto the table. “Lucky for her, chicks dig guys with scars.”
“You’re an absolute grade-A asshole,” I snarl back, immediately feeling my venomous nature toward Giovanni envelop and unfold into this monstrous beast. “I wish he’d aimed lower.” I then smirk, feeling a twinkle of malicious intent dance through my eyes. “Maybe next time I’ll have the delight myself.”
“Dream on, Princess,” Giovanni grunts, grabs his beer, and leaves us. He stops and turns back, pointing his bottle at Lorenzo. “Nice of you to bring back another thing for you to jump seeing as Maverick disappeared. You’ll need at least one person to love you other than that bastard. Or is he just something else for you to use?”
I roll my eyes at him and look back at my other brothers. I then step back, placing a hand on Lorenzo’s back to push him forward. He needs a proper introduction because clearly my brothers haven’t picked up on who he is.
“Ciao,” Lorenzo speaks with a small, nervous hand wave.
“This is Lorenzo Mancini,” I say, and wink at Carlo who used to be close to Lorenzo whenever we went to the Amalfi Coast.
“No way!” Carlo exclaims and reaches a hand out. “You’re definitely not the wimpy kid from those holidays when we were kids.”
“Sorry, wimpy?” Lorenzo asks, confusion smatters across his expression and he looks at me in terror as he tries to work it out.
“Puny, weak,” I tell him, sympathetically helping him understand better. “He means you’ve grown some since we were all kids.”
“Ahh, yes!” Lorenzo agrees and smiles brightly. “Alberto trained me.”
Of course he did, I inwardly chide.
My Uncle Alberto is an odd sort of Abbiati. He’s what some would called ‘old world mafia.’ While you live under his roof, you speak nothing but Italian – my stay being the one exception when staff spoke what little English they could. He made sure Lorenzo was not immune to that rule. Nor did he allow Lorenzo’s fitness to slip. I have seen Lorenzo in action and the timidly adorable man he usually is strips away to become a brute with a killer punch. Like I am – or was – Lorenzo is my uncle’s secret weapon because rule number is no one expects the sweet one.
“He clearly has some better qualities,” Carlo remarks, nudging Enzo. “Remember when he used to just terrorize us for being in the wrong place all the time?”
“He still does that,” I dryly add my input. I just raise my eyebrows and shrug. “He and I aren’t vast friends. I spent a lot of the last few months where I shouldn’t, sticking my nose in where I shouldn’t and causing general chaos.”
“Amelia,” Enzo, Carlo, and Manuel all groan together.
“You seriously are out to get yourself killed,” Enzo admits, looking at me as if he’s trying to work me out. “Has anything you’ve been through not taught you something?”
“Not to love back,” I chide with a scolding tone and hear Lorenzo take an involuntary gasp of air. I look at him and feel a rise of regret and pity as they mingle as one. “Lorenzo, I told you my deal back in Italy. Nothing is going to change how I feel.” I look away, almost out of respect because I feel like I’m continually punching this man in the gut. I sigh deeply before looking up. “The way I see it, is you love something or someone and when it disappears, it’s soul destroying. I’ve lived with enough grief and heartache to know when to cut a loss before real damage is done. I vowed the last time I would never go back on that and I won’t. Not even you can save me.”
“I followed you to America for a reason; I’ll make sure you love me,” Lorenzo states. He exudes so much confidence, he really thinks he’ll win.
I wonder if the feeling within me, that insubordination to let his love in, is me running scared or because I really don’t feel a thing for it. I know that can’t be true because when I think about Zane, I feel a familiar beat in my heart as it begins to work again. It’s not me; it’s my heart that’s the issue. I will only ever be able to feel the love of one man because what we had was pure, innocent, and forever meant to be too good to be true.
“Well, we’ll have to see what the future holds,” I murmur softly, knowing I can’t win this. I have tried to get Lorenzo to fall out of love with me, but apparently he’s smitten with my tough Italian self and I can’t crack that. No amount of evil, bloodshed, or bitchiness seems to deter him.
“Do we need champagne for this party?”
I close my eyes and feel all my hair stick up on end as the voice penetrates right into the sour depths of my soul. All of my tough girl attitude melts away and I’m left the weak girl I was when I was escorted from my father’s office and placed into a car and sent away. I feel all the cracks in me begin to show; this time they come back worse than ever and the physicality of the pain they inflict is enormous.
“Not going to turn and look at me, bambina?” my father says, his smooth tone laces around me and I want nothing but to be back in Italy, basking in ignorance and overwhelmingly hot sunshine. “Your good ole papà has been waiting for your return.”
As he says that final line, I bristle. I feel myself pull together, hiding all the cracks from show. Like fine china glued back whole, I want to look almost pristine to him. He’s been waiting for my return? The thought begins to make me laugh, and as I do so, I turn back to face him.
“You couldn’t wait to have me out of the house,” I state, my tone tight as I make all attempts to rein in my aggr
ession. “Nothing you have done since before that night makes me feel like you’d want me back. So yeah, we do need champagne, but only so I can drink to forget what hell I’m back in.”
“Amalfi Coast wasn’t hell for you?” he asks, smirking at me as he scrutinizing my entire look. “I know what you’ve had to do, bambina. I’ve known every move you’ve made every single day while out there. It’s good to see you could behave.”
I laugh in disbelief. “Is that what Alberto told you?” I ask, wondering what else my loving uncle has told him. “I’m guessing he left out the part where I defied even him and treated him exactly like I would you. With total disrespect.”
I see my father’s jaw clench, the muscle tick as I watch a volcanic eruption begin to build within his emotions. However, the daughter he sent away never came back. I might have cowered before I pointed a gun at him, I might have repented my sins for my actions, but now I don’t care about anything.
What use is caring when you always lose?
“Did he tell you that he threatened to chop me up and send me back to you like that?” I ask and watch disbelief filter across my father’s wide eyes. “Did he tell you how I castrated a man on my first kill over there because, if I didn’t, I would have found myself mutilated for my unwillingness?” I want to smirk at how I’m affecting my father, but I’m nervous as to how my brothers are feeling about the new me. “You both preach about how lucky I am to have been here or there, but what’s lucky about having to make a man bleed out? What’s fun about killing to save yourself?” I query, but I don’t stay fixed on the heinousness of my own actions. “Just unlucky for Giovanni, I guess because I don’t give a shit about making someone suffer anymore.”
With that, my father’s face changes. It lightens up and he beams with a bright smile. “And this is all I ever wanted to see,” he states joyfully, and I’m sickened. He ignored everything before and only heard the bit he wanted to – that I’m fearless to hurt people now.
I’m broken and I see no way back to a hopeful future anymore. I used to spend nights wondering how I’d die and, with Zane, it was always the same way – old, grey, and still madly in love. However, now, I’m riddled with bullets from whenever the police storm the house or because a hit goes wrong. I meet an untimely end and it’s neither glorious nor glamorous. It’s fitting and warranted.
“Well, I’m glad I could do one thing right,” I comment, snarkily. But I have better aim now so I’ve upped my killing skills.”
“You think I’ll allow you to have a gun now?” my father scoffs in my face, chortling at the same time. “Bambina, I won’t ever trust you with a firearm around me again. Had I not had my own to shoot your brother in the arm and scare you enough to distract your already poor aim, I might well be six feet under.”
“What a shame that would have been,” I ponder and decide to leave the back porch to find some liquor in the house.
I walk through the bright, airy kitchen, bypass the main sitting room, and head straight for the meeting room. All the white in the room radiates with the sun that streams through the large windows and the pureness of it sickens me further. I race to the liquor cabinet, throw the door open, and grab the crystal bottle and a tumbler. I set the glass down with a thud and quickly pour myself a drink. I down it the moment the glass is full and savor the burn igniting down my throat and hitting my chest. The pain is pleasurable and becomes a friend to help with all my other self-inflicted ailments. Alcohol makes me forget, helps soothe the sting of my actions, and helps me to pass the time.
“You’re a miscreant in the Dio Lavoro. Going to the Amalfi Coast should have been the one thing that straightened you out.” My father had apparently followed me just to scold me some more. I shouldn’t act surprised, but apparently, I had half hoped for a warmer homecoming. More fool me, right? “I expected you to come back straightened out, ready to please with no more talking back.
“Sadly, you must have me mistaken for someone who really wants to give this life a try,” I state, steadying myself against the cabinet as I mentally count to ten to keep myself calm. I turn around, emblazoned, heart racing, and ready to tear my father a new one. “I’m only here because without you and without my brothers, I have no one. You made sure we were isolated enough to not have friends outside of the Italian corporation you so pride yourself on. I’m not here to play nice, and I’m not here to be the daughter you can be proud of.” I give a small smile. It’s not one of adoration or pleasure. It’s a wicked little grin to show that I am no longer here to play happy family. I’m here to do what I have to. “I’m here to survive, Sal.”
And like that, the devil comes to life, full of fire and grit and ready to spit every piece of profanity at me. I don’t even cower. It worries me that I don’t feel a thing, but in the same sense, I love that I can keep myself composed before my father. I want him to see every part of the monster I’ve become.
“What are you going to do?” I ask him, taking a few calculated steps toward him. “Disown your most powerful asset?” I question further and begin to smirk. I feel a bubble of laughter begin to crawl from me, and I begin to laugh, albeit a little manically. “See, I know what each of us is worth to you, and I know how much it will take for us to be out.”
“What happened to you?”
“You happened to me,” I reply. I don’t care how cold that sounds; he’s just receiving some truth. “Now, we have a guest who needs settling in.”
My father grabs me as I turn to leave. “He isn’t staying here,” my father states plainly. He’s barely said hello to me, just argued, and he’s already treating Lorenzo as if he’s a stray animal I found in the streets. “Alberto will be glad to have him back without you as a constant distraction.”
“Lorenzo leaves when he wants to,” I admonish his order and rip my hand away. “It’s about time I had a little fun.”
“We’ll see about that, Bambina,” my father shouts at me as I continue to walk away. I hear him hit the closest hair as I flick my hand at him in a nonchalant way. He realizes that I just don’t care.
I walk back and find the boys all in the kitchen apart from Giovanni. They’re all looking well acquainted and, I have to admit, Lorenzo slots into the family well. I just hope he doesn’t see this because otherwise he’ll be here for life. No one says a thing, and I feel unnerved.
“What are we talking about?” I ask, trying to remain bubbly. I’m almost like my own version of Jekyll and Hyde – I switch between personas depending on who I’m dealing with.
“Lorenzo was just asking about Bruno,” Carlo comments. His voice tells me that they’re having a hard time explaining that he left us a while ago.
“Touchy subject,” I comment and head for the fridge. I find a case of beer and take one for myself and one for Lorenzo. I throw him his and take a seat at the breakfast bar. “He’s living the good life,” I say. I twist open my bottle of beer and take a long gulp. It doesn’t have the same effect as the hard liquor, but I’ll ration myself with this better.
As Enzo agrees and the conversation restarts, I find I go quietly as they all talk among themselves and I’m left to revel in all the emotions I had been denied time to sort through. I just have to remember to put one foot in front of the other and keep going forward because if I stop, I’m worried my errors will catch up with me.
The day I pointed a loaded gun at my father was the start of my ultimate demise. For all intents and purposes, I did die that day. It wasn't marked by my physical death. That fateful day wasn't the day I took my last breath. It wasn't my day to meet my maker. It was the day I died and came back a heartless woman. After all, if I didn’t put my heart into something, then I didn’t run the risk of getting hurt when it all went wrong or I lost out.
No, that day was the first day before my life only got worse. That was the start of my puppeteer life. My every move is orchestrated by the Dio de Sangue himself. My every move was recorded and reported back. I knew the Dio Lavoro would never let me go, so
it was either be the criminal among villains or put the fear of Christ in them all. The latter sounded far more fun, so I became what they all ever want from their younger generations – callous, cold-blooded, and cruel.
I spent days pretending to love killing and lending a helping hand when it came to setting up meetings and seducing clients for Alberto, but by the time the sun set, I was covered in filth and so much dirt that I’ve not been clean since. As the time passed and all hope began to dwindle, I just entered a twilight zone. I did what I had to do to pass the day. I never thought much, I never interacted much, and I just got on with it.
However, at night was when I struggled. My demons were far worse than I had ever thought they could be. They would rock me from my sleep, torture me every time I drifted off, and ultimately, they stole more of me than my actions I had.
This was the decimation of Amelia Abbiati and there will be no end to the punishment. This is life in purgatory – world of the forever damned.
“Bella,” Lorenzo says, breaking my trance. I look to see him standing before me. He captures my face delicately and forces me to look into his piercing, olive eyes. “You’ve gone quiet.”
“It’s nothing,” I lie and smile.
“It’s far from nothing,” he states and gives me a small smile. “You can talk to me.”
“I know,” I say and for a moment forget myself. I push into his gentle touch and relish a piece of comfort being presented to me.
Manuel clears his voice, bringing me back to the room with a thud. “So, you two seem cozy,” Manuel speaks up, looking back and forth between Lorenzo and me. “Want to spill?”
“It just happened,” I say, and I can feel the blush hit my cheeks before I even have the chance stop it.
But it is the truth, we did just happen. It wasn’t forced; it wasn’t even love at first sight. Yes, I was attracted to him, but only because he was a ghost from my past. It took time and a lot of resilience to finally just cave to the carnal feelings he built in me, and what shocked me most was it took violence to unleash it all.
