Femme Fatale

by Kirsty-Anne Still

  “His crimes,” my father begins, taking the photo away from me. “He broke your heart so fiercely even you didn’t come to me at first.” He looks at me, his eyes hooded with disappointment at my lack of trust from years gone by. “That’s a sign of a dishonorable man if he can make my own family hold secrets. Especially my only daughter.” My father begins to smile at me. “Don’t look so worried, I’m not forcing you to do just your own vengeance, Bambina. He’s been digging into our family, and I don’t like a threat. They’re a nuisance to me. If anyone can get them as good as gone, it’s you.” My father’s eyes begin to twinkle before me, coming alive. “Plus, you have leverage.”

  “So, I’m the bait in this case?” I ask, trying to keep my tone from becoming savage with incredulity and heightened concern.

  “Exactly.” My father doesn’t mince his words. “If he still loves you, even remotely close to how he used to then, Princess, I see no problem with this being your easiest kill yet.”

  I know this won’t be my easiest kill yet. It’s laughable, and I can’t even express how hard this kill will be for me. This could be my destroyer. It could be the one thing that sets me back and forces me to give up on everything I know and love.

  I am still as fiercely in love with Zane Maverick as I was the very first day we collided. I don’t see death changing that. I fear he is a loss I will never recover from. I’m proof that his leaving is something I never truly survived. In fact, he’s the reason I have no real issue killing a man, leaving my mark, and walking away. He tore my heart out and with it my trust in men.

  All the men who have died at my hands have made promises they couldn’t keep. They sweeten you up, stroke your ego, and tap into your deepest desires before they take off their mask – nothing ever amounts to the heaven they vowed you’d have if you loved them right. The lies they told my father were merely other reasons they couldn’t be fucking trusted.

  “I’ll get started on a game plan,” I remark and take the entire file. I’ll report back in the morning with my ideas, but right now, I need to take a few minutes to think about this. “I’m going to go for a shower.” I go over to my father and kiss his cheek. “Notte, Papà.” I wish him goodnight and take my leave. He doesn’t stop me, he allows me to leave without so much as a fight to my sudden muted behavior. For once, I’m grateful for the lack of attention.

  On my way up to my room, I don’t stop to say goodnight. I see Enzo by the front door, but we only exchange looks before I rush up the stairs and propel myself to my room to hide away and evaluate how the hell I’m meant to choose between breaking my heart or breaking my family.

  The decision should be simple – family is all I have. Family should always trump, but I’m one of those stupid ones that Giovanni hates – I still have a heart that rules me occasionally.

  I slump onto my bed and pull the photo of Zane out again. I look at it, allow my fingers to run over his happy face, and I feel the tears well. I foolishly find myself wondering if he ever thinks of me in those lonely hours of the night and misses me. I hiccup upon a laugh at my own stupidity and shake my head. I believe I’m the only one who truly loved in our relationship; otherwise, he would never have been able to just walk away from me like he did.

  There’s a soft knock on my door, the beats familiar to that of Enzo. I don’t say anything, just sit and wait for him to let himself in. He shuts the door with a soft pop and approaches me.

  “Are you able to deal with this, Amelia?” Enzo asks me; his voice is calm and caring. Not what I really need, if I’m honest. “Because if you can’t do it, we can sort this.”

  “How?” I ask him incredulously. I would really like to know how he’d fix this one for me. “He broke my heart once before, Enz. I have every reason to hate him, and I know I have to be strong. He’s just another target.”

  “Don’t fool yourself, Lia,” Enzo tries to placate me with his childhood nickname for me, and I almost cave.

  “I’m not,” I retort, slotting back into my heartless ways. “I can’t lose my family because of a guy who only loved me enough to break my heart. It’s do or die, and if I’m honest, I’d rather do.”

  “And we’ll be here,” he tells me, taking my hand. I just nod my head as the notion settles into my mind.

  Don’t feel, don’t deviate, kill Zane Maverick.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Don’t feel, don’t deviate, just kill – it’s my motto. The one that sees me through every kill without so much as a flustered thought, but here I am, a wreck. A complete fucking moronic wreck. Only Enzo knows how panicky I have become over Zane being the next hit on my list. I feel a fool and a fraud all rolled into one. How can I be torn to pieces by a man who hasn’t been a part of my life for so long? How can I be such a con to the Abbiati name and be tricked into such alarmed distress?

  However, the moment I hear his hearty chuckle travel across the room, my heart hardens and my brain takes control. The whirlwind I had fallen victim for calms, and I find my way back to level ground. I bristle just at the thought of him being in the same room. Unlike before, I balked and almost talked myself out of allowing myself to even get this far with the murderous scheme. Now, I’m ready for the rush of adrenaline, the thrill of game.

  I see him from across the bar. He's flirting with some brainless redhead who's barely in her dress. I try to control myself as the urge to roll my eyes and laugh becomes all too tempting. She literally has herself draped over him, and Zane is lapping up every moment of it. The sight, I will admit, conjures up a brand new gauntlet of emotions. I inwardly feel rage heat my veins, only strengthened by the pure jealousy that floods my system. I have never felt such detest for a total stranger, but here I am wishing to eradicate her from this brutal equation.

  Fighting with myself, I strive for the reminder of the end game. Zane is propping up the bar on the far end, so I decide to take a seat on the opposite. I sit there, waiting on the bartender to work his way to me. I shake off my leather jacket and drape it over the back of my chair. It’s apparently this notion that has gained Zane’s attention and the redhead goes forgotten. When the bartender bypasses a few customers to make a beeline for me, I see this as a perfect opportunity to apply a sexy sultriness to my demeanor and really get him gazing for a real reason other than my reappearance in his life.

  I want him to realize what he threw away. I want him to miss me as much as I have him. I want him to regret everything.

  "Scotch on the rocks," I order, and sit back, pretending not to pay attention to the ghost of my past as he stands staring. I can feel his eyes bore into me, feel him quite frankly ogle me. I try my damn hardest to ignore him, but his eyes fucking burn into me. I feel the scratch of desire begin, the craving begging with addiction. I try in vain to hush the feelings and quell them, but they begin to bellow around me as he begins to move forward. They were unbearable before, and now I’m barely surviving the noise of them all howling at me, vying for my attention, wrangling with my weaknesses.

  "Well, well, well, Amelia Abbiati as I live and breathe," he introduces himself, and I just look at him. His voice, that husky, sexy toned voice of his, silences all my woes, and I hate the potent power he has over every tiny vessel of me. Admittedly, my breathing falters just at the mere sight of him, and I see this pleases him. "Still a breathtaking sight."

  "Thanks," I comment back, giving him a small smile. "I noticed you're still a hit with all the ladies. Some things just never change, huh?"

  He chuckles, putting his hands out to shrug. "You can't take the devil out of some people."

  “Don’t I know it,” I mutter my remark and am more than thankful when my drink arrives. I swipe the glass up and take a leisurely sip, allowing the burn of the scotch to scorch to life within my mouth. As I swallow it and feel the burn travel deep into my chest, heating me pleasantly, I notice from the corner of my eye when Zane occupies the seat beside me. I place the glass down onto the bar top, placing my hands on either side of my glass, and give hi
m a pointed look. “Oh, you’re staying?”

  He cocks a brow. “Is that an issue?”

  “Actually, yes,” I retort and swing my seat to face him. “Why on earth would you want to sit with me when you blindsided me and then left me?” I ask and move myself a little forward, deliberately trying to make him uncomfortable with my sensuality. “Because, right about now, I can think of better fucking things to be doing with my time than sitting here with you.”

  “Yet, here you are, in a bar you know I love,” Zane observes, his tone becoming cocky. “Here was me thinking you were back for round two.” He reaches out as his finishes his sentence, readying to touch me. As he pushes a few strands of my hair back, he offers a small smile and speaks again. “Because round one was pretty fucking amazing, Amelia.”

  “It might have been, but it nearly killed me,” I admit, trying to reap a reaction from him the best I can. I doubt he knows how badly ruined he left me. I can’t believe he even feels remorse after leaving me behind a heartbroken mess. However, when he sits back as if I’ve struck him, a face full of miserable shock, I’m astounded. His reaction causes me to laugh incredulously at him. “You cannot even think, for a second, I wasn’t a mess after what you did.” I shake my head forbidding my mind to enter a horrid state of remembrance. “I guess you can. You never even looked back to see what your actions did to me.”

  Zane’s entire manner falters and all confidence loosens from his character. He lets out a sigh – a deep, soul releasing exhale – and I wonder what sorry excuse he’s about to relay to me as an act of finding forgiveness.

  “Look,” he begins, and I can see his hesitation is killing me more than anything right now. “I should’ve said something before.” He looks up at me, his gaze heavily set upon me. “I never left you because I met someone else. Hell, I never left you because I didn’t love you.” He takes a heavy sigh, releasing more pent-up emotion. “I left you because I loved you far too much, but your hold on your family was so strong that I knew I’d lose you anyway. So, I cut a loss and left before that judgment call had to be made. It was a stupid fucking thing, and by the time I came to my senses, it was too late.” All of Zane’s emotions sit in his eyes. I could always read him, as if he was a favorite book, and apparently, time hasn’t changed that. “I always loved you, Amelia. And it doesn’t matter what girl comes into my life, it’s always going to be you.”

  I'm baffled by this moment. I'm a callous shell of a woman yet he's looking at me as if I'm the most prized possession he’s ever been granted access to. He had a hand in making and shaping me into this, but he doesn’t know what his actions put in motion. The intensity of such realism hits me hard. He broke me, left me and never came back, but I can still love him as much as I had that very first time we kissed.

  He changed my logic, morphed me into despising men and their wants and needs. It’s what makes the kill easier. I think of how Zane left me without any explanation or cause for fight. He stole my opportunity to fight for him and all on a whim one night. When men want me, I see Zane. It’s a fault in my mental wiring that no one knows about. However, sitting here with him, I forget about the fallen men before him and find myself consumed with the sight of him. We were separated for so long. And now here we are, reunited, and as drawn to one another as if no time had passed at all.

  Men, I can usually deal with. Zane is different. He's the one name signed across my heart, the one it skips a beat for, the one it lives in hope of. Yet I am one of the first to diminish hope as anything more than a sign of weakness. In the Dio Lavoro, hope is not something granted. It’s something you work for. My love for Zane is not something that will grant me much gratitude, let alone a hopeful outcome. It is out of the question.

  Our love is toxic. It doesn’t just involve Zane and me. It involves my entire family, jeopardizes my standing, and kills my chances of surviving long enough to see the end of the week. For that reason, it must remain on lockdown, laced with poison and presented as a threat that he could be my own death sentence wrapped in a tidy fucking bow. I have to fear it.

  I can feel he senses my interlude in the moment. I broke away from reality, dove into the painful recesses of my mind, and reveled in a prior love before my father’s face cast back at me the devil’s intent. I could have remained thinking about Zane and all we had, but there’s a curse on my shoulders that will never let me relish the moment.

  “I know it’s not going to be easy,” Zane begins and pulls me from my silent reverie. “But I want to give it a try. I want to show you that I’m all in.”

  I shake my head. “It’s not that simple. You cannot expect that our first meeting since you broke up with me is going to solve it all. It doesn’t work like that. Life isn’t that simple.”

  “Let’s make it that simple,” he tries to coerce me into submission, but I only find myself bristling. He backs away then, putting his hands up. “Okay, okay,” he admits in defeat. “It’s not that simple, but can we at least get back onto some sort of level ground?” he asks, putting his hands down only to reach one out to me. “Friends?”

  “Friends,” I say and hesitantly shake his hands.

  I feel like the handshake is more than us drawing a line under our love and calling a truce of past horrors. This is sealing his fate – don’t feel, don’t deviate, kill Zane Maverick. The mantra crosses my mind on loop, constantly vying for every brain cell to nestle its sickly poison into me. As our hands separate and he settles a little, I cannot help but feel that Zane just unwittingly signed his own death warrant. He has no idea what he’s in for. He’s about to dance with the devil and enjoy every spin, dip, twist, and grind with her. I won’t let him know a thing; I won’t let my heart guide me this time. I will amuse his eagerness to have me back, lure him in, draw him close, and then issue the fatal finale to our love story.

  Or so I naively fucking tell myself.

  “You know,” Zane tears into my intense concentrated reverie. "You were always an anomaly to me, Amelia," he states dryly, bringing me back to the moment.

  I cock an eyebrow – is he fucking joking right now? "Why's that?" I decide to entertain him and his wayward thinking.

  "Because you're this strong Italian woman and yet you don't hold that black beauty mystique. It’s something I always used to think about when I watched you sleep. You're from this strong Italian heritage, your father is like the fucking twenty-first century Godfather, and here you are all blond and big green eyes. What happened to black hair, olive skin, and a thick, rich Italian accent?"

  "Sometimes you've just got to worry about the underdog, Stud," I reply, my tone seductive as I grab onto his collar and pull him close. I reach up, readying to whisper into his ear. "Forse ti amo ancora, but don't underestimate me. I'm trouble." I make sure my lips brush against his cheeks as I pull away to look into his eyes. I deliberately told him I might still love him in Italian so he didn’t think I was easy. "The underdog is rather sexy."

  “Fuck yeah, she is,” Zane growls lowly, the sound coming straight from his chest. He leans forward, his hand coming back up to thread through my hair and he draws me close. “I’ve missed you so fucking much, Amelia. I doubt you’ll ever know, but I’ve missed everything about you, everything you made me.”

  My breathing becomes shallow, and I’m lost in the bright blue of his eyes. The pools drown me, sinking me further into the indulgent emotions he makes me feel. The pull between us is intrinsic, undeniable, and unforgettable, and the moment his lips reach to kiss mine, I know I’ve sinned a thousand times over. Even more so as I fall against Zane and pander to the desire that swirls up from the depths of my yearning. I feel a moan escape me as, for once, I feel like my life is about to begin righting itself. The noise only makes Zane continue, and his grip tightens on my hair. The pain that screams across my scalp is delightful, and I feel my breathing beginning to falter. When we break away, I’m in shock while he sits grinning at me like a fool.

  “That was wrong,” I utter in the very
same moment that my eyes water and I curse my weak heart. “I’ve got to go.”

  I open my purse and throw a ten-dollar bill out, before snatching up my jacket and fleeing. I walk out of the bar, placing my clutch bag under my arm, and begin to turn left to go to my car. I walk a few feet before my hand is grabbed. I'm spun in a dizzying dance and dragged away so quickly the only thing I realize is my back being pushed against a jagged wall as my jacket and purse crash to the floor beside me. Zane is looking at me so intently, my heart pounds fiercely against my chest, threatening to escape and reveal me as the hopeless romantic I once was. But I can't let that happen. I am not made for fairytale endings in this life. Happily ever afters do not exist for the Abbiatis.

  “Zane,” I pant, barely able to comprehend what’s going to happen from this bittersweet reunion. I’m supposed to be here with a killer’s intent, not a lover’s curiosity.

  "How dare you think you can just leave that bar without giving me a proper goodbye." His voice is gruff, tainted with over a year’s worth of anguish. It doesn’t matter that he caused it; he’s still a victim of his own actions as much as I am. "Am I worth that little to you? Regardless, am I worth that little?"

  In response to his questions, my eyes form slits as I narrow my gaze upon his. He has the audacity to ask me if I mean so little to him? The comprehension of such ludicrous curiosity is far more laughable than anything else I've heard all week.

  "You were never worth anything but your weight in gold to me. Never ask me that question again when it was you who made me fall in love with you, only for you to rip my heart out and fucking destroy it right in front of me." I push him off, creating a breathing space for myself. "Don't you dare think for one second I forgot about you. But for my own good, I have to protect myself from people like you. I have to maintain some of the dignity you allowed me to keep." I throw my hands up into my hair, pulling at it with the distress he’s suffocating me with. "I fucking loved you back then, still do, but I am in no predicament to forgive and forget. And you best believe I don't ever forgive or forget, Zane."