Femme Fatale

by Kirsty-Anne Still

  He adheres promptly, and I smile more as he downs the glass of juice and alcohol in one. By the time he catches up, I’m only up three steps up the stairs, but I don’t slow, I continue to walk them in silence, waiting to hear the warning signs that the poison’s working superbly. When I make it to the landing, I deliberately twirl around and see Marius beginning to struggle with each step.

  “Amelia?” he chokes as we make it to the top of the stairs. He’s clawing at his throat, a sure sign the venom in his system is doing its job. It’s lacing and dancing around his veins, claiming him as its victim in delicious beauty. It’s attacking every blood cell, antibody, piece of tissue, sliver of muscle in his body and causing him to hemorrhage from the inside out. Or that’s the idea. Giovanni’s detailed explanation once was enough to sicken me, but this new cocktail clearly drives the inward effects outwards.

  As he stumbles forward, he’s parallel with the bedroom, and I move. He looks into the room, obviously seeing his friend before he collapses. As his body begins to writhe, the poison invading every recess of his body, I watch and wait for that pang of guilt to hit me. It doesn’t. I used to have admiration for this man, used to love watching him wander around my house, but as soon as I heard what he had done, all those feelings disintegrated into absolute fucking nothingness. I approach him, crouching down beside him. He looks up at me, his eyes bleeding out, while his gaze pleads with me for an explanation.

  “The loser has to die,” I tell him just as the life leaves his body for good.

  The new mix Giovanni’s created leaves their victims a bloodied mess. I’m saved from leaving my trademark on Marius. There isn’t a part of him that isn’t smeared in his own blood. Marius was once such a handsome, charismatic man. Now he’s just like the rest – one of my victims. I survey his features and a part of me yearns to know what could have been with the pair of us. Then I remember what led us to this moment. Defiance is rewarded when used right. Jimmy and Marius executed theirs wrongly, and they paid the price. I can only pray mine will pay off.

  Standing back up, I move back to the bedroom. I ignore Jimmy’s corpse and start to grab my clothes. As I begin to redress, the magnitude of my actions settles itself on my shoulders like a horde of overbearing demons. My heartlessness at Jimmy’s and Marius’ final moments attacks me and brutalizes my senses. What am I becoming? I’m certainly something only my father can define now.

  I mentally curse at myself. I’m Italian royalty. I’m supposed to be composed, strong, and fearless. But I am not made in the eye of the Dio Lavoro. I’m weak, confused, desperate. And I’ll do just about anything for those who I love. I know murder is an expectation, not a choice in my life, so why do I feel so guilty for it? I did what I had to do in order to protect Zane. Or so I keep telling myself.

  I have no idea how I’m going to rid myself of this guilt, but I know I have to try. I cannot be eaten away by the ghosts of men who deserved what they had coming to them. I need to build my life into what I want it to be – whether that means running away or sticking around to face the swan song of my romance.

  As I zip my skirt up, finally dressed, I look around the room, looking for any more of my personal belongings, but all I see is my cell phone. I look one last time at Jimmy and start the hasty retreat from the room. I snatch my cellphone on the way and walk away from the master bedroom toward Marius’s dead body. I step around, not allowing it to slow my sweet escape. I may be a hurricane of emotions, but I cannot let this defeat me. I did what I had to – don’t feel, don’t deviate, kill. My ongoing litany is almost becoming my own form of justification.

  As I leave the house, I adorn a triumphant outlook. Only good things can come from this. As I walk across the front porch, I yank out my phone and hit Enzo’s number on speed dial. He immediately answers with a worrying tone.

  “Where the hell are you?” he asks, his tone not far from berating me. “You left before the sun was up.”

  “I was working,” I merely muse. “Tell Papà we only have one left to deal with.” I speak down the phone. “I’m on my way home for a shower, but someone needs to bring a cleanup crew to Jimmy’s. He and Marius need disposing of.”

  “You’ve already killed them?” Enzo gasps down the phone at me. I can hear the horror in his tone, the shock laced upon every word. “Amelia, what in the hell?”

  “No one messes with me, Enzo.” I can feel how tense I am becoming. I should be more relaxed now; two of the deeds are done. “No one gets to undermine me, ever. It’s time people realized that.”

  “What have you done?” Enzo asks with a weary tone.

  “What I promised,” I remark back with a snarky tone. “Papà wanted them dead by sunrise. I had to wait for Marius, but they’re definitely dead. What Papà wants, Papà gets. He’ll have to wait to have Big Al’s head. I have other things to do today.” I finally get to my car and unlock the doors. “I’ll see you in twenty minutes.”

  I look up at the house, the sun glimmering around it like a shrouded halo. I merely pull my sunglasses out of my bag, put them on, and smile. I look around, take in the beautiful morning, and find myself thinking of nothing but Zane. I know the tidal wave of emotions will hit me and the ghosts of my past victims will come out to play, but right now, I feel fulfilled.

  Maybe I am an Abbiati, after all. Maybe this will solidify my spot in the family. Maybe Zane won’t have to die.

  Maybe I’m a dreamer.

  ***

  As I walk back into the hospital, I feel the weight of my prior actions come back to haunt me. I think it’s because I’ve bounded from murder to worried lover. I haven’t vented or internalized, nor have I rationalized how the fear of Zane dying has rendered me. If I can take revenge upon men who tried to kill him, how will I ever confront myself if I do my father’s work and kill Zane?

  I can’t run and hide from myself. I am left to confront the woman I have evolved into on a daily basis as it is, but soon, I will be more like the devil than ever. And while he might revel in the idea of it, I will be itching to leave my body.

  The simplest response I have is this – I can’t do it.

  While my father will celebrate the end of Zane Maverick’s potential anarchy on our lives, I will be destroyed. Yet I know, if I leave it too long and have to do the work of Dio Lavoro, I will never be the person Zane made me into. I will be covered in much darker shades, smothered in scars, haunted for life. Maybe that’s what my father wants. He wants my utter destruction so I will be his puppet like everyone else under his power. If this is just a gentle buildup, he’ll have his way if I live in fear of what will happen as a result of my disobedience.

  As I walk nonchalantly to Zane’s room, I try to repress all my feelings and attempt a happier exterior. I’m riddled with my demons, but most of all the ones that howl Zane’s name. I did it for him – it’s all I can do to carry on my justifications. I killed for him, to give him the protection he needed. He should only fear me, and people need to know that he is mine. I am the one who has this hit. If I have to fire warning shots to make that abundantly clear, then so be it.

  I enter his room, looking directly at the bed. He’s now covered up with a gown, still hooked up to a heart monitor, and still sound asleep. I walk across the room and retake my seat in complete silence, the sounds of Zane’s heart bleeping beside me.

  The rhythmic sound is enough to lull me into a deep sense of tranquility. Zane’s alive and all is right in the world because, as of this moment, he’s mine, and that is all he’ll ever be. If I can declare absolute anarchy on my father and rain down with defiance and disobedience and can, subsequently, kill for a man, then he is more to me than a piece of temporary gratification.

  Zane is a future choice. He is the sort of person I could dream a life away with. He’s the man who makes me think of what normal people have – of what Bruno has. Without him, I have no dreams, no fantasies, no chance. I don’t want to ever live without any glimmer of hope.

  “Hey,” Zane’s
gruff voice speaks, breaking my thoughtful reverie. “I didn’t think you’d be back quite so soon.”

  “Stupid man,” I tease as I stand up and go to his side. “Don’t move too much. You need to just rest.” I settle into a perch on the side of his bed, trying my hardest not to disturb him or cause him more pain. “How’re you feeling?”

  “Better,” he lies, and I give him a pointed look to which he sighs. “Okay, I feel like I got shot. You, however, look like you’ve had quite the morning.”

  “I’m okay,” I comment back, offering a meek, watery smile.

  “You don’t look okay.” His statement catches me off guard. The look he fixes me with forces a lump into my throat, and I feel my eyes water. “Hey, Amelia, what’s happened?”

  “I’m just worried about you, that’s all,” I comment. It’s not a total lie, so the conviction travels strongly in my voice. “I’m just a little tense right now. It’ll pass.” I avert my eye contact from him and now wonder how the fuck I’m meant to live with the lies I’ve just created this morning. As he grabs my hand, I look back at him. “My father’s on the war path, and I just can’t bear to be away from you.”

  “I’m still wary he’s going to come into my room while I sleep and slip me something,” Zane jokes. He laughs at himself, but immediately his face grimaces with pain as it shoots through his body.

  “No time to be the jokester.” I counter his actions, cocking a brow at him. “But believe me, he knows exactly what will happen if he even so much as instigates that idea. He’ll have to deal with me. I know what you found out about me jeopardizes so much, but I am trying my hardest to be who I am. I’m not here to set in motion some master plan. I just need you to know this, Zane.” I take a deep breath, and finally say the words that feel the most honest. “I’m here because I love you.”

  I watch his eyes water as a slow, small smile creeps across his face and empowers his whole face to light up. He takes my hand, threading his fingers with mine. He just looks up at me as if I’ve presented him with the entire world.

  “Thank you,” he comments, and the smile only seems to grow, thrusting color back into his handsome face. “I just needed you to forgive me. Regardless of what could happen in the future, I just wanted to know you had forgiven me and were willing to give me another opportunity. Which I’m sure will have your father and that brother of yours spitting.”

  I smile weakly and know I can’t keep this conversation going much longer. “Let’s not talk about them. It gets my blood pressure up, so God knows what it does to yours. I got you something you used to love,” I comment, making an abrupt subject change. “I hope you still love them.” I rummage in my oversized bag, pull out a handful of Pixy Stix, and look at him. “I know how you used to love these.”

  Zane’s face immediately brightens up. He fights to sit up a little better, and I place the candy down and rush to him, immediately plumping up his pillows to aid him comfortably. I watch him now sit up a little better, and I giggle at his excitement. I grab one of the orange Pixy Stix and pop the end open before giving it back to him.

  “Your favorite if I remember correctly,” I say as I pass it to him. He takes it eagerly and downs the candy goodness in one shot. I hand him another before taking the rest to go to sit back down.

  “No,” he states, stopping me. “Sit on my bed with me.” He watches me as I turn doubtful and look to the bed and back at him. “You can sit on the end facing me. I just don’t want you sitting a constant vigil when I’m more than okay.”

  “You’re not okay,” I comment dryly, but adhere to his wishes. I kick my boots off and move to sit on the end of the bed with my back pressed against his footboard. I get comfortable quickly and leave the pile of Pixy Stixs in my lap. Every now and then, he puts his hand out for one, but other than that, there isn’t much verbalization traveling between us.

  “That’s enough,” he finally mentions, giving up after his fifth. “How the hell did you remember?”

  I shrug, toying with a pink one as I open the end, ready to eat the sugary goodness. “I’m surprised my teeth haven’t rotted with the amount I’ve eaten since you left me.” I finalize my statement by eating the candy in a similar fashion as Zane had previously. “But, would you look at that, your love didn’t kill me, and the self-wallowing didn’t either. I’m here to stay for round two.” I throw him a wink to which he laughs at. This time he, thankfully, doesn’t ending up a pained mess.

  “I still do promise round two will be unforgettable,” he vows, sincerity looping around every syllable of his promise.

  “It is already,” I sigh happily.

  He gives me one last smile before the silence creeps in between us.

  As I sit here, I watch him resting. He’s on the cusp of sleep, obviously compartmentalizing everything’s that happened. His gorgeous face is so cast over with harsh emotions, and I feel a drizzle of guilt run down my spine. My family had a hand in this; I had a hand in this. No amount of avenging will take that connotation away from me. That will be with me for life. There is no amount of consolation that will change that fact – who I am gets people killed.

  And I wonder how I ended up here – a panicked woman in love after I had spent so long hatefully despising Zane’s mere existence. It took me so long to fuel a part of hate toward him, but it took one sighting of him – hell one sound of his name from my father’s lips – and I was hooked back on him. There was no real forgiveness, no begging or groveling, just that feeling of finally being whole once more.

  I take one last look at his calmness before I speak.

  “Did you ever think we would be here?” I break the silence and watch as he looks back at me. “Back to the point when even the silence was comfortable, that is.”

  “It was always only you that I felt myself around most,” Zane declares, offering a small shoulder shrug. “I guess I never expected to be able to get you to talk to me again so quickly, but I knew our second chance was the chance when you did.”

  I lay a hand on his calf, giving myself a connection to him as I remember our first meeting back together. I look at him and feel my heart rate begin to gallop as I remember everything’s that happened in the last few days. “I won’t lie; I did die a little when I heard the news, but ever since I’ve had to be here, Zane. I cannot leave you at all. That is final.” I feel my eyes water, the tears flood and pour down my cheeks quickly, but I keep my distance from Zane. The only proximity we have with one another is our bodies side by side. He can’t reach me and wipe my tears, and right now, I can’t tolerate that amount of intense care. “And because of it, I’m scared what will happen to me.”

  “Nothing will happen to you,” he tells me and begins to sit up.

  “Zane,” I berate and clamber from my seat on the end of his bed to press him gently back down onto the pillows.

  “Amelia, just stop for a moment, please.” His hands grab onto me, and I still, looking at him. “I don’t care what happens, but you are safe with me. I won’t ever let them hurt you.”

  “You’re not always there, though,” I murmur lightly, my eyes dropping down. “You can’t save me from my own family. It’s nearly impossible.”

  He doesn’t know the unimaginable things I have witnessed – the killings, the abuse, the near misses. He hasn’t lived years governed by murderous talk, police raids in the middle of the night, living in fear of how every action could come with a killer consequence. I have, and it means I am more aware of the power my father has garnered around him. As he has said before, I am expendable and easily discarded. It’s a looming threat not simply forgotten—especially since my father spoke it.

  “There are some things you can’t save me from.” I try to pull away from his grasp, but all I get is Zane’s hands tightening around my arms keeping me in place so he can impart one last verse on me.

  “There are some things I am more than willing to try, Sweetheart.” He gives me a small grin, the twinkle returning to his eyes. “I told you once I
was a daring bastard. I’ll take all the risks for you.”

  “You’re a stupid bastard,” I joke, laughing tearfully at him.

  “Maybe,” he says, shrugging again. “But I will always save you. At least, until you tell me not to.” His head falls to the side as he speaks, his eyes never leaving mine. “And then I want a real reason why not.”

  “I have no reasons right now,” I tell him truthfully, a tear betraying me and trailing down my face.

  “Then we are pretty damn good, right now, Amelia Abbiati.” His hands drop so his hands are holding mine. “Nothing else matters.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Things didn’t go the way I had planned for them to. I wanted a few days respite to spend some time with Zane, mentally recuperate with a man who wanted nothing more than the promise of a future with me. However, my wishes rarely go granted these days, so I wasn’t surprised when news came in and my father went into a midnight rage.

  I had spent all day unaware that my actions toward Jimmy and Marius were going to set a change of reactions in so quickly. However, Big Al found out about his men’s demise, and if I didn’t take the chance to pounce now, I lost the opportunity entirely. Filled with panic, the Italian brute was ready to flee back to Italy and go into hiding until his last days, but I didn’t want to lose this chance. I didn’t want him to choose his death; I wanted it at my hands. He was just making it far more complicated. After all, Big Al – once my father’s most humble right-hand man – was now a wanted man and he knew it.

  Without him knowing my father was onto him, my father managed to wrangle a date with me for tonight. I had less than twenty-four hours to prepare, but I was ready the moment I secured that small glass vial in the side of my bra.