Worship (Sinful Series Book 2)

by Trilina Pucci

  “Nephew.” He smiles in greeting, but I remain expressionless.

  “What can I do for you?” My voice is cold, my hate immeasurable.

  “Non è il modo di salutare un vecchio.” That’s no way to greet an old man. He tsks.

  “Would you rather I shot you?” I answer, and his smile wavers.

  “How I wish you were your brother. You’re mad.”

  He waves off the security standing behind him and twists to put his elbow on the back of the bench. He doesn’t want anyone to hear his sick perversions.

  “Why would you think that?” I question, ignoring the dig about Dom.

  Gio is not the man to me that he is to my brother, but even still, his wish is empty because we hate him equally. Dom’s just better at hiding it. I grin, amused that he thinks he’s a step ahead.

  “I know I shouldn’t have played with Shelby. She was so innocente e accettante.”

  His eyes close as if he’s reliving the fantasy. I’m sick.

  “Shelby is anything but innocent or accepting. But you’re right, I didn’t appreciate you fucking my wife. Makes a Sunday dinner awkward,” I say, playing along as I relax back and extend my arm out along the bench.

  “Pity. We could’ve had fun with her.”

  Bile rises in my throat when I think of the atrocities he’s committed in the name of fun.

  “I’m not interested in your fucked-up idea of fun. I don’t like repeating myself. What can I do for you, Giovanni?”

  He bristles at the way I speak to him.

  In his world, he’s king, but out here, I am. I don’t live by his rules, but I continue to hold him by the goddamn throat, and that’s created a very angry monster.

  Gio looks back to the park.

  “You offend me. I wanted to see my beautiful grand-niece before you hauled her away from her family.”

  It’s the way he says family that makes my skin crawl. I wonder if that was the appeal with Antonio’s sister—then again, Antonio’s father fed the beast, so maybe it was more opportunity.

  “Careful, my patience isn’t endless,” I warn.

  My control is beginning to quake with the memories that keep rocking me as I sit here with him.

  “She looks like your mother,” he says, and I look at his face again. “I remember her so vividly. Her mouth was a perfect red bow. I always thought it a gift for those lips to wrap around a man. Pity the crash mangled her beautiful face.”

  I reach around to the holster around my waist and pull out my gun, setting it next to me discreetly, out of sight but directly in his view.

  “Well, I guess I’ll dispense with the pleasantries,” he responds.

  I nod, filled by a deep fury.

  “Speak.”

  He sneers, and his eyes go black.

  “It’s time for you to walk away. All these years you’ve held that girl over my head, and now you’ll stop.”

  I laugh.

  “What makes you think I would stop, old fool?”

  His mask falls, and his words hurl out.

  “Because she wanted it. Just like your fucking wife. And if you aren’t careful, I’ll do the same to your precious Gretchen. Oh yes, that’s not all I know. I bet she likes it rough, and you know how I like it when they put up a fight. Makes it sweeter when I break them.”

  “You sick bastard.”

  I press the gun into his side and he flinches.

  “If you think I would let any of that happen, you’re delusional. We both know how this shit ends.”

  I want to shoot him here on this bench and watch him die. I’d gladly accept the consequence, but I can’t do that to Ella. And he knows that.

  “You aren’t just taking me on, boy.”

  He exhales as I pull the gun from his ribs.

  I place the gun back against my back and stand.

  “Then I’ll bring down the whole outfit. Life by filthy fucking life.”

  “You think one man can do that? Dominic will never let you put his wife and child in danger.”

  He says child in a way to relay that he’s aware of Drew’s pregnancy.

  “Mi divertirò a guardarti mentre fai gli ultimi respiri. Sarò lì per assicurarmi di vederti trascinato giù nella caverna dell’inferno.” I promise. I’ll enjoy watching you take your last breaths. I’ll stay to see you dragged into the pits of hell.

  “Non vedo l’ora di prendere tutto ciò che hai sempre amato. Perché una volta fatto, non dovrò ucciderti. Il dolore della perdita lo farà per me.” I look forward to taking everything you’ve ever loved. Because once I do, I won’t have to kill you. The pain from the loss will do it for me.

  His words etch into me, leaving marks.

  He doesn’t want my life; he wants retribution for the power I stole from him. He clings to his need for vengeance, and I realize I’m not much different. He taught me this, gave me this gift, but I don’t want it anymore. I turn around and walk away.

  “Nice to see you again, uncle.”

  “And you, nephew,” he calls out.

  I walk past the guard and back through the playground before I reach for my phone and call Dom.

  “Gather everyone. We’ve come to the endgame. I need them to understand why I’m doing what I’m doing, and they need to sort out their loyalties.”

  “Okay.” Dom pauses. “Luca, we take everyone who ever let it happen. Because I won’t have another person take his place that turned a blind eye. We need to protect them…and you need to tell her.”

  I know this has been coming. I knew I’d have to tell Gretchen, but I hate that her loving me has drawn her into a world so dangerous.

  “Done.”

  Standing at the curb, I hail a cab and head home to check on my girl and plan how to kill Giovanni Sovrano.

  I walk into Mama’s, and Mario greets me with the same enthusiasm he always has. I pat his back.

  “It’s nice to see you too. Where’s my favorite girl?” I joke about his wife, Sophia.

  “Ah, Sophia is making something special for you boys. The table is in the back.”

  He motions his head toward the kitchen, and I nod in appreciation. I walk through the restaurant and down a small hallway to a door that’s blended into the wall.

  Mario told me about the room once when I was here for dinner. He explained how it was installed during the days of prohibition. It was used to store all the illegal booze; now it’s used for supplies.

  Tonight, it’s the place where I meet my brothers.

  I knock on the door and hear a click as it’s opened. I duck my head and see everyone seated around the round table, six pairs of eyes looking back at me.

  “Well, this is fucking dramatic,” I announce.

  Everyone starts to laugh, and Mario comes in behind me with a tray of drinks. The fellas cheer his entry. Such a rowdy bunch of assholes. Mario throws out a few choice curse words in Italian, feeding the insanity, and tells us our food will be ready in a bit.

  “Take your time. We need to talk first,” I request.

  Mario nods.

  “Of course, Luca. Anything you need.”

  I take my place between Dominic and Dante at the table. Everyone quiets as Mario leaves. They all know why we’re here—at least, they know I’m going to war, and they’ve vowed their loyalty—but there are things to be said. Truths to tell that may make them feel differently.

  They look to me, waiting for me to speak. There’s no going back.

  “I want to start by saying I’m sorry it’s come to this. But in a way, I’m not.” I rub my stubbled jaw. “I didn’t want to get here, but Giovanni Sovrano is not a man who should possess power. He’s a sick, disgusting distorted version of what a man is supposed to be.”

  Dante nods, crossing his arms over his chest.

  “Agreed, but we all know who he is. What’s changed?”

  He would know most of all. Giovanni talked his mother into staying in the lifestyle and then sent her away, isolating her and Dante from our father. He t
hrew Dante into the life the first moment he could, without protection. He conjured the devil in Dante.

  I take a sip of my drink.

  “He’s threatening to hurt the people I love. I saw him this morning, and he admitted he’s planning to hurt anyone in my life that he sees fit. He’s had to wait for a long time to seek out revenge, but now I have weaknesses. And Giovanni looks for a weakness—even if you don’t see it, he does.”

  “We’re all monsters, but he wants to hurt you through them,” Vincenzo answers, and I nod.

  There’s a code among men in this life: women and children are off-limits. It’s understood and upheld, except by Giovanni and their fathers.

  “And if he knows you are all brothers to me, he’ll hurt you. He’s had incriminating information gathered on all your families for years. It’s his smoking gun. So, if you want out, if you want to keep yourselves protected, I’ll understand. You can walk now.”

  “What the fuck?” Matteo says, standing to pace.

  “What kind of fucking information?” Vincenzo questions, his voice just shy of a roar.

  Dante shakes his head at him. “Calm down. Listen. You need to hear.”

  Antonio’s eyes stare into mine, and I know he’s processing the information.

  “How long have you known this, Luca?” Nico asks.

  “Since I was fifteen. I feared him for so long. He was ruthless and cruel for the enjoyment of it. He seemed all powerful, and if I would have told you, he would’ve destroyed your entire family line. So, I kept my mouth shut and paid attention. To everything. I collected all the information I could use against him. I was the very best student.”

  “And you know what he knows? You could’ve used all this against us too,” Antonio interjects, and the others look at him, then back to me.

  “But I didn’t,” I say back. “And I won’t.”

  “No, you didn’t. And I don’t believe you would.” Antonio looks to the others. “I don’t know how you fuckers feel, but Luca has always had my back, and Mary’s.” At the mention of her name, the room falls somber. “I would lay my life down for you,” he says, looking at me. “You don’t need to ask.”

  I nod, grateful for his loyalty. Antonio stands and runs a hand through his unruly hair.

  “Tell them, Luca. It’s okay. They need to know.”

  I still myself, fighting the rage that’s building, and exhale.

  “The day Dom and I turned eighteen, Gio took us to a strip club, bought us some lap dances, and gave us more liquor than we should’ve had. Dom got drunk and passed out, but I refused, opting to pretend. Gio disappeared into a back room, and I followed him. He was haggling with the owner about some girls offered up for prostitution. Gio wanted to ‘break them in,’ and the owner was all too willing to let him. The screams from the room were more than I could bear.”

  “Jesus,” Nico breathes out.

  I nod and continue.

  “So, I grabbed Dom and got the fuck out. I tried tracking the girls down later, but I never found them. I was a fucking coward at that age, afraid he’d beat me for saying something, afraid he’d killed them, but I was a kid seeing my first monster, and that shit sticks to you. It wasn’t until months later when I saw Antonio’s sister fleeing from his room that I knew I had to stop him.”

  Antonio looks up at me, tied by the pain we both feel for what we couldn’t stop. His voice is empty.

  “Mary was fifteen. Nobody knew what happened; she wouldn’t speak on it. But she was never the same. A shell of a person. All her light stolen. She took her own life because of that piece of shit, but I wasn’t allowed to say a word. My father, that bastard, wouldn’t have it…”

  His breaths come out heavy, and the guys restrain him as his pain surfaces.

  I continue through his pain.

  “She wouldn’t tell me anything either, but I saw it in her eyes. So, I went into the room and put a knife to Gio’s throat and drew blood. I told him what I knew, everything I had ever seen. And I promised him that if he ever touched another girl without her consent, I would destroy all of it. I promised I would destroy him, all of us, if necessary. The whole outfit. Because that’s been the problem: I can’t speak without taking everyone down. So, as long as I’ve lived, he’s kept most of his power, and I’ve held the rest. But now he has leverage.”

  “Ella and Gretchen,” Vincenzo says.

  Matteo looks at me. “Why not just kill you? You die, so does his noose.”

  “Too many loose ends at the time, but he tried…the night I was attacked. That was him.” Matteo looks at me, surprised. I wish I could say the same.

  “We found out that night. Dante and I beat their confessions out of them. Shelby was his go-between, and she has loose lips. Apparently, that’s when she started her fuckfest with that psycho,” Dom says.

  “The club, that was a setup.” My explanation serves as a lightbulb for Matteo.

  “That’s why you’ve kept Shelby under lock and key. Not because she needs protection,” he replies.

  “Yeah, we used her to give Giovanni the information we wanted him to know. He thinks she’s weaseled her way back into Luca’s life,” Dante says, disgusted by her.

  “He doesn’t want to take my life alone; he wants to take everything from me first. Gretchen, Ella…even Shelby. He wants to take me down so I crumble, and then he can play on Dom’s rage to pull him back in and gain all his power back. Nobody will be able to stop the horrors he’ll commit.”

  “Do all our fathers know about Giovanni? Do they know the kind of atrocities he’s committed? Have they been complicit?” Matteo asks.

  With each second I don’t answer, I witness more rage take residence in his features. He’s always hated his father, and he’s had good reason.

  “They knew, Matteo. My father didn’t even mourn Mary. He told her to never speak ill of Giovanni. Fuck, he all but delivered her to him. They all know. And they should burn in hell for it.” Antonio’s voice is calm, his decision made.

  He’s been waiting for this day. I’m just a convenient excuse.

  A strangled breath escapes Matteo’s mouth; he wants to tear the walls down and can’t. Vin puts his hand on the back of his neck.

  “Keep it together. You need to hold on to the rage. We’ll make them pay. All of them.” Matteo straightens, and his jaw twitches against his resolve.

  Nico stands and brings his hands down to the table.

  “They all knew—they all come from the same sick fucking loyalty. Can anyone here really say that his father wasn’t cruel or evil? Crimes against other men, that’s what we signed up for. That’s the life. We protect our communities, our women, and our culture, but they leave a smudge over it, a blank space where there should be honor. I want it done. Ended.”

  He looks around at the others, and everyone moves to stand.

  I rise from my chair.

  “We’ve all been groomed into this life, and it’s fucked us up, but we have the chance to make it different. We’ll always be criminals, but ‘famiglia’ means something to me, and I know it does to you too. You’re all my brothers, and I would lay my life down for you. Will you do the same for me? Because now I have to protect Ella and Gretchen. I won’t see them hurt.”

  Yeses fill the room. I take the glass in my hand, raising it to the middle of table.

  “Then we cut the head off the snake and burn the body.”

  Each man lifts his glass, and we drink to the death and destruction that will come from our hands.

  Normalized is a funny word, because it can apply to anything. We toasted to our intention for Giovanni’s death and then sat and ate dinner like normal men. I suspect in many ways we are, but violence is normalized to us.

  Nobody feels unsure, scared, regretful. This is how we’ve grown up, and although Dominic and I got the furthest away, it’s woven into our psyche—fuck, maybe even our DNA.

  That’s the biggest reason I’ve hesitated to bring Gretchen all in. Once I lift the veil to the r
ealities of the world she lives in, she’ll always feel a little less safe and a little more scared. But she’s already “less safe,” and I know I don’t have a choice.

  I just have to figure out a way to get her to hear me out without running away. She promised me a conversation the last time we spoke, but she hasn’t answered any of my calls.

  Mario meets me at the front and pats my cheeks.

  “You’re family to us, Luca. Please don’t stay away again for so long.”

  “I promise. I’ll bring Ella so Sophia can ignore us both.” I laugh, and he claps his hands together as we’re interrupted by the delivery kid.

  “Sorry, Mr. King, but Mario, I need the extra calamari for Gretchen’s order. You know she hates when I forget.”

  He looks at me apologetically and back to Mario.

  Mario laughs and nods.

  “Yes, yes. Beautiful woman, monumental temper when she’s hungry,” he says to me and excuses himself, walking into the kitchen. No fucking way. This is a hell of a sign from God.

  “Give me the bag, kid.”

  He looks at me, confused.

  “This is going to Gretchen Andrews?” I ask, pointing to the bag of food he’s holding, and he nods, still confused. I pull out my wallet and peel off three hundred-dollar bills.

  “Here,” I say, handing him the money. “She’ll forgive you for the missing extra calamari. I’ll make sure of it.”

  He hands me the bag and smiles, and I turn and walk out of the restaurant.

  MY WHOLE DAY WAS AMAZING, except for the minute-by-minute recap my head kept doing of the entire conversation, sex, and fight I had with Luca a few nights ago.

  This has become my regular. I kick ass at work and overanalyze my entire life when I get home.

  My cell rings and I see Drew’s name but send it to voicemail. I do this to everyone lately. Even Luca. I don’t want to answer and reassure her I’m fine or hash it out with him. All I want to do is drink a very large glass of wine, eat some food, and watch some shit television.

  I scroll through my numbers and dial Mama’s Italian restaurant, waiting as the phone rings.

  “Hello, Mama’s,” a thick Italian accent bleeds through the line.