I can feel the sanctimonious smirk twitching at the corners of my mouth, tugging hard. “I prefer to play dirty. It’s the Abbiati in me.” I offer a shrug and shift a little on my feet, getting a reminding jab of the revolver stored in the back of my pencil skirt. I don’t want to use it because that would just aid provocation, but in the same sense, I am not about to be threatened with abduction. “Look,” I begin to say with exasperation, “I can make one call and have you two swimming with the fishes or you can do as we were told. It’s entirely up to you.”
“No, no,” Roscoe states, shutting me up. “We run this my way. Bobby V has been waiting for my ass to trip up, but if I bring him you and the newest Dio Lavoro recruit, then I’m pretty fucking sure I’ll be paid off beautifully.”
“Do you really think I’m about to let you or him lay a hand on her or me?” Zane speaks up, taking a calculated step forward protectively. He’s moved slightly so he’s shielding me with his body. “The last man who wanted my girl had his face pummeled in with a hammer. It’s not against me to do a recreation of it on one of you.” Zane snickers as both men look to one another a little worried. “Who’s first then?” he asks and takes a few more steps forward, this time cracking his knuckles as he does so to show his readiness.
“Whoa, whoa,” Roscoe says and although he’s looking warier of Zane than ever, he does take a step forward. “Clearly, we underestimated you, but this is a business deal. You’re late, you pay. I don’t get paid overtime for standing around for an extra fucking hour. My pay check stopped at four when you were supposed to be here.”
“I’ll make sure you’re made up for your time,” I comment, stepping out from Zane’s guard. I stand beside him, showing us as equals. “Now either Lurch shows me to the cigars or we leave empty handed and Bobby V will have something far worse to worry about than our punctuality.” I anticipate a response, but when I don’t get one, I decide to really show I’m serious. “Fine,” I say and reach into the pocket of my blazer and pull out my cell. “I’ll just make one phone call to my father to let him know the change of plans and be out of your hair.”
“Wait!” Roscoe hollers, stopping me from pulling my father’s number up. “Take the fucking cigars and get out of my face. If you’re late for the next pickup, then I won’t be so lenient.” He pushes his henchman, Lurch, and glares at him as he lights up a new cigarette. “Show her to the back room.”
I had already spotted the small shipment of cigars in a room to the right, so I feel excited that things are finally going back on track for us. I follow Lurch to the side room, spotting the branded Cuban cigars as they sit in on the table, but my eagerness has the better of me as Lurch turns to me, surrounded by abandoned sheets, rumble, paint pots, gas canisters, and what I can only make out as old shipping crates.
“And remember, don’t go easy on her!” Roscoe calls out behind us and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
“You fucker!” Zane bellows, and all I hear is him issuing Roscoe the initial punch the moment the words resonate with him.
As I hear them brawl, I look back and seeing Zane getting the upper hand with a punch square to Roscoe’s jaw. However, when I turn back, Roscoe’s wingman is right before and from the predatory glare I’m receiving, I can only presume I’m not about to get just the cigars.
I’m not used to greedy men who do the big boss dirty work because I’m not usually placed on the front line like this. The incident with Carmello was the first time I had been out with just three of us doing a drop, but now my father thinks it’s time to teach me all areas of the family business. The one thing he doesn’t know is that I’ve grown extremely bored of men thinking I’m easy. I’m tiresome of men thinking I’m just an object they can touch and grope because I’m not and I’m not afraid to show them that.
So, I allow him to pin me to the wall. He’s a silent man, but his eyes speak volumes. Even glowering at me, a cigarette hanging from between his lips, I know Roscoe’s henchman is just obeying orders. This is something they had discussed – separate us and then strike. They clearly didn’t know who they were taking on and I’m little fucking disappointed that my reputation still doesn’t precede me. If Lurch doesn’t know, then it’s time I enlighten him.
He stands over me, the cigarette burning between his chapped lips, his peppered grey hair lops forward, and the face that stares down at me has been worn and tortured with years as the silent partner.
“Do you do all his bidding?” I ask, taking a drag from the half-burnt cigarette. He nods mutely, so I lift my hand up to his forehead, pushing back the one unruly strand out of his face. “Let him push you around all the time?” I query and again he nods. “Do you know what sort of trouble that can get you into?”
Now he shakes his head and while one hand travels up his chest, the other falls from his face and onto his shoulder. I keep his eyes locked on mine, the intensity of the moment all too consuming. While I watch him lose himself in this moment of foreign intimacy, I draw him toward me while propelling my knee up into his crotch and connecting the hardness of my kneecap with his penis. I feel the sudden exertion of air traveling from his lungs before I release him and he crumples into a heap on the floor.
It never ceases to amaze me that it doesn’t matter the size of man – one knock to their manhood and they’re down crying like a baby. It’s a fucking glorious sight every damn time.
As he lies on the floor, cupping his manhood, I take full advantage. Even with Zane not letting Roscoe win, I don’t step down and talk the situation into a calm; I just react to it – as I always do. While he’s weakened, I take my chance to leap into action. I use the toe of my shoe to kick him hard in the side and cause him to roll onto his back. He looks up at me with watering eyes, and I take a step forward, only to set one foot beside his arm while the other I push down onto his throat, the heel crushing his windpipe a little.
“You know what I’m capable of, right?” I ask, leering down at him. He nods awkwardly, grimacing still and I laugh, removing the cigarette from my lips to speak clearer. “Then you should know that no animal touches me and gets away with it.” I snatch my foot away, leaning over him to grab the four small boxes of cigars. “If these aren’t perfect, I’ll be back,” I warn and flick the cigarette away from me and deliberately aim for the sheets in the corner.
They made this awkward for me; I’ll make this awkward for them.
Leaving the side room, the gold wrapped cigar boxes clutched at my side, I come out to find Zane pummeling Roscoe’s face. I can see from the split lip and reddening eye that Roscoe did get a few swings in at Zane.
“Zane!” I call out, but all I seem to cause is a distraction to force Roscoe to get the upper hand. “Get off him! We have what we wanted.”
Apparently, my demand goes unheeded, so I pull the gun from my back, point it up at the ceiling, and fire it. The resonating gunshot sends an echo around the shell of the warehouse, causing birds to fly away and forces the two men apart.
“Get up,” I say, pointing the gun deliberately at Roscoe. “This part of the deal is done.” I wait for Zane to get up, his suit now dirtied, before I even begin to turn, but as I do so, I notice that there’s fire now igniting in the room where Lurch is just leaving. I hasten myself to leave and I just hope to God Zane is behind me.
“Are you crazy?” he asks, catching me up, clearly not acknowledging the fire I started.
“Not one hundred percent,” I comment, giving him a smile, but I see it doesn’t change the look on his face. “Be happy I didn’t need to use the gun on someone,” I deadpan but see that doesn’t help matters.
We barely get started on the matter when part of the warehouse blows out; we both duck, covering our heads, and Zane instinctively moves over to cover me. We stand up straight and look back at the billowing smoke and lashings of fire that propel from the building. I look at Zane and smile innocently, but it causes his expression to become even more aghast with horror than ever.
&nb
sp; “You’re an actual psychopath, Amelia!” he shouts over the roaring blaze, getting the car keys out of his pocket.
“Why, thank you!” I say jokingly as we run for the car. “But we can discuss my psychopathic tendencies later. For now, we need to get out of here before the police get here.”
***
I step out of my room and hear the gentle hubbub of men talking. I realize now they’re all waiting in the foyer for me, as I’m the one running fashionably late. Clasping onto my clutch bag, I roll my shoulders and prepare to head down. My father wasn’t ecstatic over the spectacle I created in picking up that lousy package, but we didn’t get time to talk as we realized we all had to get ready.
I expected my neck on the chopping block and a publicized slaughter, but Enzo broke the moment up and gave me time to work up what I need to say without really ramming my foot into my mouth.
I still just at the top of stairs, suspended from going down to them just yet. With my bag under my arm, I run my hands down the white satin of my form fitting skirt and strive for oxygen. I feel like I’m about to make some grand entrance and, for once, I don’t want all eyes on me. Closing my eyes, I take a clean breath to calm my nerves and exhale to rid myself of them. I open my eyes and find that Enzo has clocked me already and is watching me expectantly. I give a little grin, finding an ounce of confidence to begin to walk down the stairs, and as I do so, Zane catches sight of me and looks up; his eyes swell with what I can only assume is awe and his mouth begins to hang open. One by one, the men of the house turn to look; even Lorenzo can’t help but stare. It’s unsettling, but after the wreckage I’ve left in my wake, my appearance means everything to calm my side of the mess the Dio Lavoro is becoming.
“Pick your jaws up, we have a party to attend,” I state as I stop on the bottom step.
“Took you long enough,” Giovanni grumbles and heads for the door. He’s becoming more like a bear with a sore head every day and it’s driving me insane.
“We’ll meet you in the car, Bambina,” my father comments, his voice sickly sweet toward me.
As he steps toward me, Zane eyes me up and down, indulging upon the entirety of my outfit and then sniggers. "You know a twisted bitch shouldn't wear white."
I don't snap; just enjoy his comment as my gaze falls down myself. The dress, while form fitting, has an attractive heart-shaped neckline to it, and the bodice is covered in silver strip details leading into the white skirt. The two parts are broken by a delicate belt with an embellished middle. I giggle and look back at him.
"Positively innocent, right?"
We both laugh and he puts a hand out for me to take. As I do, I take the final step down and feel like there’s a new air around us. I can’t describe it and I know we’re not about to go back to trying to be a couple, to be madly in love, to consume one another, but it’s nice to be on a level grounding with Zane and not have to worry about the threat of our relationship caving in. I never thought a fight and an explosion would do it, but apparently, we just needed to learn to clear the air and trust in one another before we got too heavy.
He chuckles, almost bashfully, before looking back at me. “In all honesty, you look truly beautiful.”
I’m forced to look away at the sound of his compliment, and I feel like an impish schoolgirl, being told her crush fucking loves her, too. I’m twenty-four and blushing over a man. But he’s not just any man, is he? He’s the one person I can’t shut out, even when I try.
“So, you two seem more friendly than you were the other day when you were tearing into one another,” Carlo remarks as he closes in with Enzo not far behind him. “What was it that changed things? You taking on Roscoe or her blowing up a building and literally heating things up?”
“I didn’t mean for that,” I try to say, but I can see my brothers don’t believe me. “How was I to know that the gas canisters were full?” I ask, trying to refrain from grinning. “Okay, fine, I had a sneaky suspicion, but I’m so fed up with people trying to get one up on us. It’s time we really showed them what the Abbiatis are capable of.”
“Oh, you’re doing that,” Enzo scoffs, and I take note of how disappointed he sounds. “Apparently, Papà’s worst decision was keeping you a secret weapon,” Enzo comments. I hear a tight element to his tone that tells me that he does not like my recent behavior. “People are enjoying how fierce you are.”
“But you’re not,” I muse back, my tone becoming solemn.
“No, I’m not,” he agrees quickly. “I don’t like the girl that’s come back from Amalfi Coast, but I love her no less. I just want you to be a bit more precautious, Lia.”
“I’ll try,” I tell him, giving a small smile. “Now, can we get the evening over with, please?”
“C’mon,” Carlo motions to the door, but as we go to leave, I’m stopped.
Enzo grabs me by the elbow, forcibly stopping me from leaving with the motion. I turn to look up at him and he releases me, but I can see he’s really trying to understand mine and Zane’s haphazard relationship.
“I don’t know what’s occurring between the two of you, but please, do not start blowing hot and cold. There is enough drama in this house to last a lifetime; I can’t tolerate the melodrama of Amelia and Zane.”
“She still won’t have me,” Zane teases, forcing himself to play the wounded man. “All you’ve got to be aware of is that I’m a daring bastard, but she already knows that.”
He gives me a wink, and I feel remembrance bare itself to me. “Let’s go,” I say, unable to forget that day when I told him that I’d be bad for him. There may be issues, but his fight to be here is always stronger on every turn.
We all file out of the house, and I feel Zane close behind me, as we’re the final two. The air becomes electric, and I want nothing but to stop, turn, and just cause the sparks to fly more, but as I hear my father demand he go in the front car, I remember where we are.
My father swoops into the first car. Following by Giovanni and Enzo, he tells us he’ll go with them and take Lorenzo with him. The rest of us pour into the second car, and I find myself between Manuel and Zane. I’d rather be in this car than have to deal with Lorenzo and Zane close. Since I pushed him away, Lorenzo has been bitter toward me, in a way I never even thought possible. I’ve seen Enzo get irritated with his rudeness and sudden overuse of Italian in the house as if to almost alienate Zane at meals time. He’s also started to become blossoming buddies with Giovanni and that scares me to no end.
"So, this party?" Zane begins but quickly trails off while we drive out of the grounds to the house in the hopes that someone else will continue the conversation. When that doesn’t occur, he continues, "What's it for exactly?"
We all laugh; Zane really has no idea. Even after my explanation earlier.
"About four or five times a year, there are parties held solely to bring all business associates together. In doing so, the top dogs can get together and talk business while the rest of us enjoy free drink, good music, and get to map out who’s a friend and who’s a fiend," Carlo explains. He keeps a watchful eye on Zane, checking that he understands. "Tonight, Maverick, is your turn to show us that you’re not here for Amelia like we all know you are, but are here to make friends, spot your enemies, and win a few hot chicks over just to piss Gio off. Sound easy enough for you?"
I remain quiet on the matter, knowing that so much of Zane’s survival still remains balanced on me. I’m a major catalyst in his life and have been since that very first collision. Everyone suspects his motive isn’t really to become a strong force within the Dio Lavoro, but to use a positioning alongside my father as a means to get with me. These parties are his opportunity to show it’s not the case.
“So, I just need to sweet talk my way through the next few hours?” Zane asks, calming almost immediately. He’s done social events before in his job; he knows how to win over a crowd.
“And know how to drink good liquor without dropping,” Manuel comments, and I see him cringe. This
forces me to laugh. “You drop, you never forget it.”
“Manuel would know,” Carlo jokes, chortling at the thought. He catches Zane’s confusion and laughs a little harder before explaining. “Manuel here isn’t cut from the same cloth. While Amelia can hold her liquor like any other, Manuel is a lightweight. It still haunts him.”
“Is that why you’re not as involved in family business?” Zane asks, his voice hesitates as he’s not sure if he’s overstepping the mark.
Manuel nods and smiles before speaking again. “It’s how I like it. I live on the outside and just do as I’m told when I’m told. I’m very much my mother’s son.”
“He’s doing me proud, though,” I comment, reaching out to pat his knee. “Showing us all you don’t have to run with the wolves to be strong.”
I give him a smile, showing just how proud I am of him. He’s standing strong in the face of aversion, worn his sexuality when most could have slammed the door on the closet and forgotten about it. Manuel, to me, is the epitome of strength. Many times before he’s stood by his beliefs, never followed the herd, and although he’s had him listed as weak, I see nothing close to the idea people have of him.
“But you’re not at the level to relax, buddy,” Manuel quips, leaning forward to look past me and to Zane. “You can breathe when you have people eating out of the palm your hands.”
I toss my head to look at Zane and give him a smile. “People always assume him to be the secret weapon. You have to earn that sort of fear, mister. Think you can handle it?”
“I can try,” Zane comments, and I can see he’s beginning to become extremely nervous.
A silence beckons us all as the drive continues and I allow myself to just think over what may occur. It’s a bad idea as the good and the bad scenarios attack me, forcing me to imagine Zane being a laughing stock, Zane winning everyone over, Zane being caught in the middle of a blood battle to see who’s the best. It’s not until the car slows to a steady halt that I escape my irrational mind. Once I enter the doors of this venue, it’s anyone’s game, and I just want to survive the evening unscathed.
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