Femme Fatale

by Kirsty-Anne Still

  “You make it sound so simple,” I reply, unable to believe he would leave his life behind.

  “That’s because it is,” he counters, walking back toward me. “Do you realize how easy it would be to pack up the car and just drive?”

  “Simplicity doesn’t come with my family,” I reprove, trying not to dare myself to dream too quickly. “I just wanted to know if I’m worth running away with.”

  “You’re worth a lot more to me than just running away with.” He pulls me up from my perch and again, wraps his arms around me. “You are worth every breath in me, Amelia, because I have lived an empty life without you and I never quite realized until I had you back in front of me. I can’t explain everything you make me feel because for the most part, it’s out of this world. It’s all so indescribable. But if I had to say it in simple terms, then I would say you make me feel alive.”

  “Then why didn’t you try to find me?” I ask, feeling my body go rigid at the thought.

  “Because I’m a coward, Amelia,” he states with integrity and his eyes have a newfound dolefulness to them. “I ran when the going got tough, and when I looked back, I didn’t dare try to win you back because of your family.” He shakes his head, obviously still shamed of his own actions. “It was the worst mistake of my life.”

  He releases me slightly, but only to capture the side of my face with his palm. He holds my head delicately, his fingers partially threaded into my hair. The moment causes me to close my eyes and enjoy the low sensuality to his touch.

  “You do realize no other man will be able to love you like I can,” he murmurs to me, and I open my eyes. “No man will ever know how to worship your body or know how to talk around your defiance. No other man should get the chance.” He stares at me, passion fevering his expression. “And if he can, I’ll be waiting there to outshine him.”

  “Don’t give me the opportunity to look for someone to take your place,” I say and pray the pit of doubt in me is for something other than more heartbreak from Zane.

  “I’d be a stupid man to repeat my past mistakes,” he whispers softly. “You’ve started to leave your old life behind you, now’s my time to leave my past judgment behind me. It’s you I want; family or no family.”

  Shame I can’t break myself of old habits. Shame I’m far from leaving my family behind me. Shame on me for thinking my conscience was going to gain an insatiable appetite.

  “You’re right,” I lie convincingly and put my arms around his neck. “Now will you cook those damn pancakes?”

  “Shit!” he swears again and releases me to go over the heated pan. “You’re going to bring this whole damn apartment building down one day.”

  “We always were meant to go in a blaze of glory,” I mock and take my seat. The look he throws me only makes me laugh, and I realize that I can ignore demons when I’m home.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “Oh, here she is!” Giovanni responds to my entrance to the room. “Amelia Abbiati finally graces us with her damn appearance after finally getting out of Maverick’s bed.”

  “Shut up,” I respond, my tone tired of his continual jabs at me. After his show of support for his own brother, my restraint dangles on a very fine line. “You’re like a petulant little child. Get over it, Gio, no one cares.”

  I continue across the room, literally throwing myself down beside Enzo and I catch him looking at me. He has a mirthful glow to him, and immediately, a blush bruises my cheeks and I try to restore some modesty and swiftly move on.

  “So, he returns from Italy at long last, I see?” I ask, promptly moving us onwards and away from any conversations that could ask about why there is a very large bounce in my step.

  “Got back a few hours ago and he wasn’t pleased to find you not here,” Enzo comments. “Same as Carlo. You both got the call almost immediately. But he’s pissed at you most. Seriously, it took six more hours to show your face?”

  I shrug before I say, “I didn’t see it as important enough to rush away.”

  I know he’s ready to scold me, but he doesn’t get a chance as the doors to the room fly open and there stands my father. I take in the sight of him, not realizing I’m holding my breath at first. He looks well relaxed and all the stress he had on his shoulders are now diminished. It makes me wonder what sort of things he’s been doing in our Italian hometown of Amalfi Coast, but I really shouldn’t be making myself do that.

  “So, I guess I owe you all an apology,” he states casually as he swans into the room. He’s back to being suave and composed, and I hate everything about him. “Firstly, I thought I’d get away to allow Amelia some time to just indulge her childish, childish heart. Secondly, I felt like I needed to get some perspective and getting away gave me that. I have set up new business acquaintances within our family and even fixed a new way to get us some more money. Not that we need it, but we have to always be in the game.”

  No one speaks as we take it in. The last time we got new business acquaintances into the family it turned sour. Big Al is a prime example about how quickly people think that by my father extending a friendly hand to welcome them in the Dio Lavoro is a direct reason for them to try and one up a powerful man.

  “I’m keeping this short and sweet,” he adds on and paces before us. “We’re having a party,” my father announces, clasping two hands firmly together. “While away I have become associated with other business opportunities, solicited my opinions, and promoted the Abbiati name a little. This is to welcome me back to my family where order shall resume.” He stands before us that stoic devil – the one I’ve failed to see recently – and I know my father won’t let this rebellion continue any longer. “Outfits will be brought to your rooms as soon as possible.”

  “Well, in that case, I’m going to shower.” I then take my stand. “The sooner we get past this the better.”

  “Going to wash that vile stench of sex away?” Giovanni asks, crossing his legs and lounging back as smugness radiates from him like a foul bodily odor.

  I just flip him the bird and continue to leave. All the while, in my head I’m telling myself one thing – don’t bite. Don’t bite. Don’t bite. I know if I had turned around with some snappy retort, we’d all be at one another’s throats, and the atmosphere at the party would be nothing but tense. Therefore, I take my dignified leave and walk away with my head held high.

  “Amelia?” my father calls out after me, following me from the room. “How are you doing?”

  “What do you mean?” I ask, confusion striking hot. “I’m fine.”

  “I mean after Big Al. How are you?” he asks me, and I see a sense of worry in him, but it’s full with derision. I know as soon as he can, he will be changing his mood once again. “I know I just left, but I couldn’t believe you got hurt. It changed my view on everything you’ve been through.”

  I snort in disbelief. “Believe me, Papà, what Big Al did doesn’t even get close to the worst I have been through because of you. Unfortunately, he left a physical mark. It doesn’t mean he’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.” I can see that rocks my father, but I’m in no mood to play loving families. We are far past that. “Let’s just survive tonight, and we’ll go from there,” I remark and permanently leave, pleasantly relieved when he doesn’t call out after me or follow.

  I make my way quickly through the house, now noticing the amount of people around making the house fit for a king. I ignore all of the hubbub – It doesn’t involve me, and my input would be futile. I just walk to my bedroom, throw my door shut, and head to the bathroom to turn the shower on. I allow the preparations outside of my door dissolve with the heat of the water.

  When I come out of bathroom, I find an outfit hanging on the frame of my four-poster bed. I approach with caution, unaware of what my father has chosen for me. I even take a look around to see if the person who had placed it here is still around. But I’m alone, the door is even closed.

  As I get closer, I notice a note and tear it away. I
open the folded card to find my father’s well-presented scrawl. “You have half hour, Bambina. I hope this dress will look as beautiful on as I have thought.” I stare a little longer at the card and wonder if this is my welcome back gift or if that is still to come. Placing the card down upon my bed, I prepare myself to find out what dress he has chosen for me.

  As I peel the zipper down slowly, I stand with bated breath as I watch the black colored love heart neckline appear. As I continue to pull at the zipper, I notice as the black begins to fizzle away like little petals, dissipating into a silk cream color. The bodice is patterned and form fitting, while the skirt falls away loosely into transparent netting, the same black pattern filters out across the entire skirt. It’s a truly magnificent dress, and I’m in awe. At the sight, I remove the entire cover from the dress and just allow myself to take in the breathtaking sight of this garment.

  My father knows I have an extreme weak spot for dresses that are masterpieces, and this one is no exception.

  Leaving the dress behind, I go over to my large vanity dresser. I pull the stool out and sit before the mirror. I take a look at myself and wonder how I should prepare for tonight. I don’t want to stand out too much. If anything, I want to fade into the background so I can disappear at midnight like some modern-day Italian Cinderella.

  Picking up the small tub of moisturizer, I undo the lid and begin the time consuming job of beautifying myself just to be paraded away. I work silently, carefully applying foundation and eyeliner, mascara and blush, and finally, grabbing my favorite lipstick. My makeup is sultry with bedroom eyes and red lips while I pull the pins out of my hair to keep it down, loosely curled and naturally untamed.

  Now comes the fun part – putting the dress on. I approach it and excitedly take it down from its hanging position. I remove it from the hanger, undo the zipper, and lay it out ready. I make quick work to pick a matching pair of black lingerie and dress in them before I go and pick the dress up one final time before I put it on.

  The moment it slips over my body I can tell it fits me like a glove; even more so when I master the zipper and approach the mirror. As I look at my reflection, I realize this dress looks like one my mother wore once. Right before her death, my father and she went to a party at Big Al’s, and she wore a dress similar to this. After that, life just seemed to fall apart at the seams. It doesn’t stop me from wondering if I’ll meet with the same fate. It’d be apt, to say the least.

  “I knew that dress would look magnificent on you, Bella,” my father’s voice breaks the silence in the room. He grins with pride, the adoration beginning to show. He raises a hand to rub his jaw as he looks me over. “I just knew that dress would look stunning.”

  “You chose well,” I applaud, running my hands down the skirt of the dress. I look down at it and feel myself smiling like a fool. I truly love this dress. “I was just about to grab some heels and head down.”

  “Okay,” he remarks stepping forward a little more. “But, please, go and put on your mother’s pearls,” my father states, his eyes glued to me, waiting for my defiance. “Then you’ll be ready.”

  My hand instinctively rises to touch my bare neckline, and I frown. “They won’t go with this dress. They’ll look out of place.”

  “I don’t want to hear it,” he states, and I realize that my father has come back a changed man. He no longer has even an ounce of the care he once did. “Put them on and then you can come down and join us.”

  I hesitate momentarily, before I do as I’m told and enter my huge walk-in closet. The white room bursts with bright light, and I approach the far wall where all my hells live. I grab the pair of black Louboutin stilettos I want before I head to my safe. I put the heels on and grab the necklace before locking all my other valuables away. I only leave the closet itself once I know the pearls are in place.

  “I know you’ve been living with Maverick, Amelia, and I am not pleased in the slightest. For tonight, you’ll do as I say by putting the pearls on because you’ll find you’ll be listening to me more often,” he comments the moment I leave the room, and I find him sitting on my bed. I stop and stare at him; if he knows about Zane, does he know about Manuel? “Don’t look so shocked. It’s time you stopped being a brat, and it’s time I stopped letting you be one. Zane Maverick is healed, it’s time he dies.”

  “It’s not that simple,” I tell him, trying not to allow myself to crack. I have lived on borrowed time, but I never knew it was going to run out this fucking fast, and I am not ready for this to be it. I am still not prepared for the end game.

  “Yes, it is,” he snaps back and stands. I watch as he buttons his jacket back up and straightens his arm only to pull his sleeve down and tidy himself up. “You’ve lived some merry life with him, now is the time you did your duty.”

  “You do not get to leave for almost a month and then come back and start to throw your weight around again.” My insolence is only worsened by the blatant fact he’s striving to make right on all his wrongs. I’m not someone he can easily push around anymore. “You do not get to control me anymore.”

  He grabs my wrist, pulls me back, and looks me in the eyes. I cower, admittedly, when he glowers at me with devilish intention, and I feel a bolt of terror ripple through me. He definitely hasn’t come home to reconcile and build bridges. This man that ran away to Italy isn’t even remotely close to my father. Salvatore Abbiati finally let the devil win, and he’s enjoying his time here.

  “You’ll do as I say or I’ll make all your worst nightmares come true, Bambina,” he says, using a sentimental nickname as if to buffer his rage. “I’m no longer living with empty threats, but quite the opposite. The new Salvatore won’t hesitate to sell you, I’ll just do it.”

  “Well, the new Salvatore will see himself without a daughter soon,” I hiss, the words are venomous and unforgiving and I want him to feel every piece of my hatred toward him. “So you get a choice now, Papà, Zane Maverick or keeping your daughter.” I pout, sarcastically mocking him for his decision. Either way, I’m out of this family the next opportunity I have, so the choice is really his to have. “I’ll leave you to decide.”

  I take my leave, and I’m only carried briskly by my need to find my brother and really work out what in the hell is going to happen. I rush down the stairs, keeping in character by welcoming guests, but I don’t stick around to schmooze or chat up a storm. I want to get to the main room as quickly as I can. Preferably, before my father does. Lucky for me, as I close in on the doors, I see the sight of my brothers and ease begins to trickle in and dissolve the terror in my system.

  I see Carlo standing with Enzo and some other men unknown to me. I make a beeline for him, grab his arm, and motion to the side of the room, telling him I need to talk to him immediately. He excuses himself, and I apologize for my rudeness before we leave the crowds for a quiet corner.

  “How close are you to getting Manuel out of here?” I ask almost immediately. “I need to know because Papà isn’t here for free rides now. He’s here for business, and his first is his family.” I watch Carlo’s face darken, and he even attempts to loosen his tie a little. “If he’s here to restore order, Gio is sure to tell Papà about Manuel’s recent admission.” I can hear in my voice that I’m frightfully frantic over what will happen. All evening my mind has calculated the many ways in which Manuel will be shamed for his defamation and every single one ends in bloodshed. “I don’t want him caught up in this any longer, Carlo. I need him to not to be one of us now more than ever.”

  “And what about you?” Carlo asks, taking my hand to lead me to a quieter spot in the room. “Do you think I enjoy watching you strive to keep Papà happy and yourself happy? Do you think I ever wanted you to grow up to be a murderer, Amelia?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” I reprove, discounting his worries. “It’s too late for me, but it isn’t for Manuel. Give him the chance you wanted me to have, Carlo. It’s all I ask. It’s all I fucking want right now. I don’t want Papà’s
approval or Zane’s love. Right now, I want Manuel safe and happy.”

  “And this is what he wants?” Carlo asks. I’ve been waiting for this question. I’ve gone in all guns blazing, and Manuel doesn’t even know what I have planned for him. I know him – he’ll strive for loyalty to us, he’ll stand due to kinship to us, and he’ll be afraid of what lies in wait for him when he has a full life to live free from any limitations.

  “This is what he gets,” I remark, keeping myself fiery and sharp. I cannot back down from doing the one thing that we should have done years ago. “We all know how he doesn’t fit into Papà’s teaching. We all see he doesn’t have our same strength, and I don’t want him to love that – ever. I want him to have the chance we never had, Carlo.”

  “You had your chance to get out,” Carlo counters; he’s incensed over his battle of who to save first. “I had you nearly packing your bags and you squander your chance for Manuel.”

  “I’ve been saved,” I tell him, giving a glimmer of a small smile. “Zane has saved Carlo and me. Leaving is just the end game, and we’re nearly there, but Manuel doesn’t have that hope. If he stays here any longer, he will get dragged down, and I dread to think what monster Papà will make of him.”

  “What’s going on here now?” Giovanni says and comes to stand between Carlo and I. “It’s looking cozy.”

  “I think you need to back away,” Bruno interjects, and I’ve never been happier to be surprised by him. “They’re clearly discussing something that doesn’t involve you.”

  “Oh, fucking hell,” Giovanni grunts, stepping back. “You’re becoming a pain in my fucking ass, Bruno. What are you even doing here?”

  “I’m here to keep a close eye on you,” Bruno remarks and smiles happily at Giovanni, furthering his annoyance. “Now, why don’t we leave this pair?”