“I’m in this life for you, Amelia. There has to be something we can do.” He speaks as if it’s all just that easy. That we can build one another up to tear them down and keep doing it on repeat.
“We can work together, but that’s it. It’s all I can manage, right now,” I tell him, putting back the coldness into my tone. There was a moment of sheer honesty, but it’s gone because if I revel in it, he will wheedle his way back into my heart and charm me back into loving him. It’s now time to initiate the Amelia who protects herself. The magnitude of him really being here has taken four days to truly hit me hard and it’s left a lasting mark. “This life is game of Russian roulette, Zane, and it sure as hell ain’t my gun or yours we’re using,” I tell him, my throat tightening as the realization finally falls upon Zane’s face. “Be careful when you decide to pull the trigger.”
“You can’t make this sound like closure,” he speaks as we stand apart. “No matter our issues, surely me being here is enough to make you see sense! No matter what, I gave up everything to be here! I’ve jeopardized everything to stand here before you today!”
“No, don’t you dare!” I snarl and put my hands up to stop him in his tirad. “You chose this. I didn’t beg you to come and be an Abbiati. I didn’t want you involved in this!” My hands fall to my side briefly before they fly up into my hair. I know he’s right, him being here is testament enough, but our actions don’t keep us on the same pages. “You don't get to do this to me again! I am not going to be your fucking fool anymore! So live out whatever sick fantasy you have, Zane, but leave me out of it." My tone has started to raise in octaves, my broken heart straining for each wretched beat. "Please!"
“I can’t just give up,” he tells me. There’s a begging ebb to his tone, but he’s not entirely ready to become vulnerable to it wholly. “No matter what was said or done, I can’t. It’s not for me to do. I just didn’t expect things to unravel like they did!”
“I told you to be ready at every turn, Zane. You said you were all in, but I threw one curveball and suddenly I’m yesterday’s news. Like you, I have to be ready for every fucking turn, for every attack. I was protecting you from being delivered a very limited life. Have you forgotten that my father already had a bounty on your head once! Do you really think he’s a man to forgive unpaid debts?” I watch him, seeing the penny finally drop. “Believe me, Zane, I wanted nothing more than to shout from the rooftops that I finally felt like something in my life was going right, but when my father throws us for a loop like that we have to forget about all our needs and make sure men like Salvatore Abbiati are smiling brightly at the day’s end. That was my reason for this, but you failed to believe in me and believed in what I had to say before that.”
“Amelia.” He steps forward, his plea written all over him.
“Don’t!” I roar, unable to hear him out. We’ve been here too many times. “I don’t want your apologies and I don’t want you to suddenly be remorseful because now you see why I did what I did. I know my track record isn’t perfect, but I thought I had given you enough for you to hold a shred of hope for me.” I shake my head, trying to rid my dismay at how quickly the love story Zane and I had started again has decayed. “You said you weren’t going to be stupid enough to lose me a third time, but we were both the idiots because this is over. For good.”
“Why are you being like this?” he asks; now he’s the one sounding at a loss. “I was stupid; I always am when it comes to you. I do the wrong things and say the wrong thing. I am the fuck up here. I lose sight of what’s right and I just end up like this. You know that, so why are you just giving up now?”
“I’m not giving up, not really. This is me protecting myself,” I say pushing him away from me, so I can stand up. “Now stay out of my way. You’re just another minion to my father.”
If I’m protecting myself, why does it hurt so much?
***
“Dinner will be delayed,” my father states later that evening. “We have other matters to deal with first.”
I should be disappointed, but today has left me with a minimal appetite and a feeling to just crawl between my sheets and forget about what transcended only a few hours before. I have to sit with Zane nearby, and it’s not easy at all to cope with. I know love isn’t an easy game to dabble in, but it shouldn’t be able to make so many millions of pieces in my heart – each one as fragile as the next.
“Any particular reason?” I ask as I stand up, throwing my napkin back onto the tabletop and begin to follow.
“I found one of our own stealing from the business,” my father states and begins to leave the dining room to head toward the grand room. “And he’s been threatening my prize jewel.”
I walk in to find Tony Costello on his knees, flanked by Giovanni as he guards him. I still a little before I continue forward. Tony is one of the men my father has up front to sort the packaging and correct distribution of drugs. He’s worked with the likes of my father, Big Al, and Carmello all in equal measures; it’s how my father grew a rapport. He made his men expendable with the faith that their main loyalty would remain with him, but in recent years, more seem to crave the greedy promises the others make. The ones my father, in turn, will destroy by taking their lives.
This is Zane’s first slaughter like this and I wonder how he’ll take it. I steal a look and can see he’s unable to quite work out what’s going on until Carlo whispers something and there’s a brief spark of terror before Zane covers it up. I continue to take a space beside Enzo and watch as to what Tony has done to ruin his space in our family.
“Tony here decided to go against the Dio Lavoro,” my father begins to say, taking up the space before Tony.
“Carmello put me up to it,” he states, his voice traveling with such confidence that he might earn some bargain if he’s completely upfront. “After what your new recruit did to his face, he wanted some of your best cocaine handed over so he could break it down and find out your secret.” Tony is becoming frantic, divulging all he had been promised, but he should know that Carmello’s promises mean nothing when you’re in the house of Abbiati and knelt before the Salvatore Abbiati. “I told him he was stupid, but after Carmello threatened my family if I didn’t, I couldn’t say no. I wanted to protect my family.”
“You do realize that he might have threatened your family, but I will threaten so much more than that,” my father comments dryly, starting a short pace before the doomed man. “You have betrayed me by forming an alliance against me. You have implicated the life I have supported you with and now I can’t let it continue.”
With a click of his fingers, Giovanni presents my father with his trusted switchblade, clicking the button to allow the knife’s blade to glide out. He holds onto the steel slither and places the handle into my father’s hands, and I prepare myself for the attack that is about to come.
“I’ll do anything,” Tony begins to beg, watching the passing of the weapon.
“But that’s not all you’ve done,” my father argues back, keeping himself as calm as he can enable. “You also promised to remain loyal to Carmello until he got Amelia. You offered to help him get his hands on my daughter.”
“He threatened my wife and kids!” Tony argues back, desperation hanging onto every word of his. “I had to stop him!”
“I don’t care!” My father’s words are a sonic boom compared to Tony’s sniveling pleas. “How dare you think you can steal from me and not be repaid for me. Many men before you have fallen for the bargains and all have ended up dead. To add insult, you promise him what is mine. You promised him that you would lure my daughter and kidnap her. You set up a malicious subterfuge in which my daughter would be drugged and taken and all because a man like Carmello promised you riches! Had you come to me first, I would have made sure Carmello would never have had an opportunity to touch you or your family. I’m a man of my word and had you told me his plan, I would have given you more than this.” My father stops before Tony, leaning in closely. �
��But unlike you, I do have faithful men who do as they’re told and get repaid kindly. Now you’re about to lose it all and so is your family.”
“No, I’m sorry. Please, no,” Tony begins his pleading again.
“Amelia,” my father suddenly states my name, jolting me from my trance and quietening Tony. “You can do the honors.”
“Me?” I gasp, looking at him as if there’s another Amelia miraculously joining us. I’m still in shock that men were conspiring such plans against me. The fear it’s risen shows again how wanted we are by outside forces far more dangerous than the police. “Why me?”
“I want to see if Alberto was right about you in Italy. I want to see if you have gotten better.” My father presents the knife to me. “C’mon, Amelia, I want to see what the old country made of you. I want to see if keeping you here was really worth it. I want everyone to see that you truly are a force to be reckoned with.”
I know the moment I take a step forward that people’s estimation of me has lowered, but what else am I to do? I am here to serve a role now. I am no longer here to be protected or worshipped. I am here, solely, to serve a purpose and do it well and that hasn’t been really broached until this moment. With each step, the hard, broken girl who came home comes back to life, building impenetrable walls around her and making sure that she is no longer deserving of a savior.
I decide to brutalize any hope that could've had a hope in hell – I take that blade in my hand and I roll it around in my palm. It's a dead weight, and as I look, the light glistens from the blade, telling me to do its job. I look at Tony, see that familiar look of expectant fear, and I take a step forward.
I know that this will solidify my place in the family a little more, it will destroy the faith people have in me, and it will change people’s opinion of me. As much as it breaks me to think, if I do this, then Zane will hopefully be so repulsed by my actions that he won’t ever want me back in his bed. I just have to make sure the execution is done correctly.
Approaching Tony, I feel the weight of all eyes on me, but I mold myself into a sensual beast – the one that appeased my uncle’s killer instincts and won me a horde of fans within the Dio Lavoro’s Italian base. I put my index finger to his chin and motion enough for him to stand. Once at full height, he looks down at me, and I can see that he's wondering if this is his retribution.
"You've been a silly man, Tony," I say lightly as my hand grazes along his face, cupping the back of his jaw, my fingers nestling into his hair. “Did you really think you’d get away with it all?” I ask, my words stilted with gruffness and a harsh manner. “Did you think I’d allow a man like you to be a master manipulator and make me that easy you’d have an opportunity?”
“I don’t know,” he whispers, deprecatingly becoming a hollow man.
“Well, you must have,” I state sardonically, my eyes still caught on him, my body pressing closer to him. “You obviously thought you’d get this close to me. You clearly thought that you’d feel my body against yours, my breath against your skin, and my will all yours. You were a silly man to think I’d ever let you near me.”
“I know,” Tony agrees solemnly. “You don’t have to do this, though.”
“I don’t?” I query, my hand grazing down his face. "So, do you think you deserve the punishment my father’s said or do you think you deserve a second chance?"
"There are no second chances in the Dio Lavoro, Amelia. W-We're all meant to know that."
"So, you don't want a second chance?" I ask, my hand caressing the side of his face, keeping myself calm and soft toward him. "Because we all want that one second chance. We all want that chance to get total forgiveness," I speak, keeping his attention on me. "I'm just sorry you had to be mine."
My words fall with a sickly sweet malice, and as I end the sentence, I ram the knife into Tony's abdomen, feeling the blood pulsate warmly onto my hand. Slowly, I withdraw the blade only to move my hand down his head to rest on his shoulder. When my hand stills, I pull him onto my blade before pushing him away only to pierce the blade into a third part of his stomach. On the fourth stab, Tony starts to gurgle, and I know I’ve severely damaged him internally. I hope with the fifth it will finish him off, so I angle it up slightly, and as I pull the knife away, I allow him to drop to the floor. There’s a moment of silence before clapping comes from behind me and I can feel myself starting to shake under the intensity of what I just did.
“Someone clean that up,” I ground out, sickened by the feel of blood on my hands once again. I ignore everything around me, it’s as if it’s phasing out as I begin to truly realize what I’ve just done – it’s not about the kill, but about who saw it.
I begin to leave, giving Giovanni his knife back, and flee the room entirely. I take the slow walk to my room staring at my hands. No one followed, no one even moved when I was done with Tony. I stabbed that man until the life left the eyes that were staring at me. My brutality had now been presented to them, and all I received was a round of applause from my father and Giovanni and total silence from those who love me most.
My shakes become violent the closer I make it to my room and by the time I’m closing the door and using bloodied hands to lock it, I’m slowly feeling pieces waiting to fall away. I go into the bathroom, approach the sink, and put the water on as hot as it will go, and leaving blood on the taps. As steam starts to billow out, I place hands under the heated water and watch the blood begin to bleed itself away from the lines in my hands. I hold them under the stream of water, rubbing them together to rid the disgusting color from them both and don’t care how the new redness is from the burning water.
I don’t remain standing for long. I find myself slipping away from the sink until I’m lying curled up on the floor, water still thundering from the taps, me completely motionless against the cold tiles. It’s here that I start to evaluate how life has possessed more horrors in a few months than I have witnessed in all my years, and I find that I’m at a loss to label myself. Am I still Manhattan’s Femme Fatale? Am I a monster? Am I a bloodthirsty beast cast straight up from hell? Or am I just a demented product of my upbringing? I don’t even know and as I curl up even more in the corner of my bathroom, I just cry as the final question courses upon me: What have I really become?
All I know I’m good for is heartbreak and blood red hands.
Just as destiny had written it.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“This is fucking great,” I mutter as I put an elbow against the car door and lean my head into the palm of my hand. “I get stuck in traffic with you and all because my father wants some precious Cuban cigars.”
“You think this is fun for me?” Zane asks, sarcasm weaving its way through his tone. “I’m stuck in a car with a woman I’ve killed every possible chance with and she’s been nothing but cold fury for days.”
“Yeah, well, I’m sorry, but you did get warned I wasn’t the girl you fell in love with months ago!” I tell him, unable to keep my tone from raising a few octaves. “You even saw the change in me days ago.” I stop myself and sit back, shaking my head as I find myself laughing. “I can’t believe it’s only been days.”
“If you want to be pedantic about it, it’s been a week,” Zane states, flexing his fingers around the steering wheel. It doesn’t even matter that we’ve been in gridlocked traffic for almost thirty-five minutes; he’s still ready to cruise away and get this job done. He looks at me from the corner of eyes and smirks. “Sorry, did that just piss you off a little more, sweetheart?”
“All of this is pissing me off,” I grunt, now folding my arms across my chest like some petulantly sulky child. I find it hard enough to look at Zane across the table at breakfast as it is, but to now be confined to a small vehicle doesn’t make for a sanity saver. It’s made even harder by the navy suit he’s wearing with the crisp white shirt, casually buttoned up bar the top two buttons. It does nothing to empower my resistance to him, so I keep having to remind myself this is a job. “My father wants
nothing to happen between us yet sends us on this stupid little task together.”
“You pretty much stonewalled that anyway, so why worry?” he asks promptly. He shrugs and finally releases the steering wheel to look at me. “You and I both know how this was meant to end, but we pretty much fucked that up because we did what we used to always do – we skipped out on proper communication.” His words are dryly executed and his face is hard as to not show much emotion. “Remember our first fight was over something like that. You were playing wing woman to Brett from down at the station but didn’t think to tell me first. Instead, you went straight in for the kill there, got him to save you from me, who was apparently the sleazebag hitting on you. Sure, you got him a girl, but I also got hugely embarrassed and we ended up fighting. Much like the other night!”
I feel my face soften a little, but I know there is no going back. “I could apologize until I’m blue in the face for that, but what good will that do? You and I are just too headstrong and we think too passionately and look where it ends, Zane. It always ends in tears and words we can’t take back. Why forgive when we’re always on a vicious circle.”
“Maybe that’s our thing,” he tries to compensate for our actions, finding our niche in discovering a relationship with one another. “But maybe if we made it more of a partnership against your father, we’d find a lot more common ground.”
Never going to work like that, buster! I think wryly.
“Let me ask you a few things in a pretty frank way,” I begin, twisting in my seat. I see he’s now looking at me, intrigued as to what’s about to be asked of him. "So, let me get the first bit right, you'll throw away all moral obligation and become twisted and corrupt for me?" I know we’ve been over this before, but it’s something that needs to be addressed once more.
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