Ricardo

by Marita A. Hansen

  The woman cocked her head to the side. “A loser should always shake the hand of a victor, but I guess the D’Angelos don’t know common courtesy.”

  “How do you know who I am?” Bianca asked, now reconsidering hitting her.

  “It’s my job, and it’s also common courtesy not to walk into someone’s room while they’re fucking. So, the next time I’m enjoying the Don’s beautiful body, don’t interrupt us.” She walked away from Bianca, disappearing down the staircase. Bianca gritted her teeth, wishing she had punched the woman in the face.

  Ricardo’s door opened, drawing her attention to it. He stepped out of his room, wearing smart pants and a crisp white button-down shirt. His violet eyes went to her. His jaw tightened, but instead of looking away, he headed past her, not saying a word. Anger rushed through her, furious that he could dismiss her so easily. She followed him to the staircase, wanting to give the stronzo a piece of her mind. She went to yell at him, but stopped, what she saw downstairs drying up her words. Ricardo’s family were spread out across the lounge, all eyes following Ricardo as he descended the staircase. They appeared worried, with the exceptions of Dominic and Brando. The two brothers were standing next to each other, with their arms crossed over their chests, looking ready for a fight. Bianca’s gaze moved to Dominic’s twin. Vinnie was sitting in between his two sisters, his face swollen and his right eye closed.

  As Ricardo rounded the staircase, he grabbed for the banister, looking like he was about to fall over. He steadied himself, then let go, once again heading for his family.

  Salvatore moved forward, blocking his path. “What’s wrong, brother?” he asked.

  Ricardo placed a hand on Salvatore’s shoulder. “I’ve taken the antidote and can feel everything. It’s overwhelming.”

  Gasps went through the room, a few of his family even looking frightened.

  Ricardo’s mother pushed out of her chair and marched up to him, elbowing Salvatore out of the way. “The antidote is only for emergencies.”

  “It was an emergency; I overdosed on my medication.”

  “How can you overdose? You only have it once a week.”

  “I had an extra injection last night.”

  “Then go back to your room until the antidote wears off. I’ll put a soldier on your door.”

  “I don’t need someone to guard me,” he snapped.

  “Don’t bark at me, I have a right to be concerned. You’re dangerous when you’re not medicated.”

  “Only if I get angry, which you’re making me right now, so move the meeting to tomorrow.”

  “No, this matter needs to be dealt with now.”

  He leaned his face down to hers. “All I see is red, dear Madre. All I feel is anger. Now, what do you think will happen if you take my title from me?”

  Her body went rigid. “Are you threatening me?”

  “No, I’m warning you of my condition, which you seem to want to agitate. So, reschedule the meeting for tomorrow, when I’ll be fully medicated.”

  “What difference will it make? Last night you lost control and hurt Vinnie while medicated.”

  “I didn’t know what I was doing. I would never hurt him on purpose.”

  “Which is your problem. You never do things on purpose, yet everyone pays for it. You are a danger to this famiglia.”

  “As are you,” he sneered. “And by the way, I’m sick of you working behind my back. I’m the rightful heir, not a murdering troia.”

  More gasps went round the room, everyone in disbelief that Ricardo would insult his mother. Bianca stared down at him from the staircase, just as shocked as everyone else.

  ***

  His mother’s hand whipped out, slapping Ricardo across the face.

  He laughed at the sting. “I felt that, Madre. I haven’t felt one of your slaps since I said I wouldn’t kill for you anymore.”

  She slapped him again, wiping the smile off his face.

  “I remember telling you not to hit me in public,” he snapped, no longer amused. “And it’s pointless. Apparently, I’m a heartless bastardo who cannot feel.” He glanced up the staircase at Bianca, wishing it were true.

  “Vai via!” his mother yelled, telling him to go away. “You are no longer Don. Brando is.”

  He turned back to her. “No, I will remain the Don, and even if I wasn’t, Salvatore is next in line.”

  “Salvatore refuses to take the role. He has no sense, whereas you have no sanity.”

  “Oh, I’m perfectly sane right now. I see everything clearly, and I want everyone else to see as clearly as I do.” His eyes swept over the room. “Brando can’t be the Santini Don because he’s—”

  Another slap silenced him. “Don’t you dare say it!” she yelled at him, looking primed to kill.

  “I told you not to slap me!” he yelled back, now having enough of her merda.

  “I’ll do more than slap you if you say another word about Brando.”

  “I will do as I please, as you fucking do.”

  “Don’t speak to me like that,” she spat out, waving a finger in his face. “I’m your mother. I deserve respect, not venom.”

  “As I’m your son, yet you don’t respect me.”

  “Because you’re a crazy bastardo!”

  “I’m not the bastardo in this famiglia, Brando is,” he growled out, beyond angry, “and for you to back him over me is spitting in my face. Well, I warned you what would happen if you crossed me.”

  “Don’t, Ricardo.”

  “Don’t what? Do you mean don’t tell everyone what a puttana you are?”

  His family yelled out, some of the men shooting to their feet. Brando pushed off the wall and headed for him, the look on his face deadly.

  Salvatore stepped in front of Brando, shoving him back. “Don’t engage, Brando, he’s beyond reason.”

  “I’m not beyond reason,” Ricardo cut in, “and do you want to know why our madre is a whore? The answer is right in front of you, Salvatore. Just look at Brando; truly look at him. He’s not one of us, he’s a D’Angelo.”

  “I am not!” Brando hollered.

  “Then why did our madre say you were?”

  Brando stopped trying to push past Salvatore, his eyes going to their mother.

  She started shaking her head, her face filled with panic. “No, bambino, don’t listen to him. He’s saying anything to keep his title.”

  “Then why did you tell me he’s Davido’s love child?” Ricardo said.

  She spun around, hellfire in her eyes. “You selfish stronzo!” she yelled, throwing herself at him. She started hitting him, his mother going wild.

  Salvatore turned and grabbed her, lifting her off the floor. He yelled at her to stop, but she continued to hit out at Ricardo, using her feet as well. Ricardo knew he’d inherited his insanity from her; she just hid it better than him.

  “Let me go!” she screamed at Salvatore.

  “Not until you calm down, Mamma,” Salvatore replied, his brother so much bigger than her.

  “Put her down,” Brando snapped.

  Salvatore turned to Brando, placing their mother back on her feet. She went for Brando, holding her hands out to him. “Don’t listen to him, Brando,” she said, her voice now broken. “He’s lying.”

  Brando stepped backwards, avoiding her touch. “Ricardo doesn’t lie, he tells the truth, even if it rips someone’s heart out,” he said, the pain in his eyes indescribable. “So, tell me in your own words who my father is, you owe me that much.”

  “I can’t,” she sobbed out. “I can’t say it.”

  “Just say it! Just fucking say it!”

  She grabbed his face. “You didn’t mean to kill him. It was an accident.”

  He flung her hands away from him. “That’s why you cried when I told you about shooting Davido. He was your lover.”

  “No, bambino.”

  “Don’t lie! That’s all you’ve been doing my whole life. I asked you why I didn’t look like everyone else, and you tol
d me I was a throwback to my great auntie, when you fucking knew she was my grandmother. Davido’s mother! And because of your lies I killed him. I killed my own father!”

  “He wasn’t meant to be there.”

  “But he was!” He brought his hands to his head. “I always wondered why Papà treated me differently. I thought it was me, that I wasn’t good enough for him, when all along it was because I wasn’t his son.”

  “You’re my son, that’s all that counts.”

  “Not to me! I wanted a father, yet all I got was apathy. I wanted a mother, yet all I got was used.”

  “I didn’t use you.”

  “You did, otherwise you wouldn’t make me do your dirty work. Every time I walk out the door to do one of your hits, there’s a risk I won’t come back. Is that why you want me to do them? Because you don’t give a merda if I die since I’m not a Santini?”

  “No, bambino, I love you with all my soul.” Tears streamed down her face. “I love you more than my own life.”

  “No one fucking loves me, least of all you, because if you did, you wouldn’t have done this to me.”

  He gripped onto his face, looking like he was close to exploding, the veins in his hands standing out. She moved forward and wrapped her arms around him. He pushed her away, his beautiful face twisting with anger. She staggered back and went for him again. He deflected her hands and took off, shoving Salvatore out of the way in his need to escape. Anna jumped up and ran after him, the two disappearing through the archway. Their mother went to follow.

  Salvatore grabbed her arm. “Let him be, Mamma.”

  She shook him off and went for Ricardo instead, hitting out at him again. “You cruel bastardo!” she screamed. “You didn’t need to tell him. Your role as the Don is to protect the famiglia, not to destroy us.”

  Ricardo grabbed her wrists. “I wasn’t the one who had an affair with another woman’s husband,” he spat out, flinging her hands away from him. “Nor was I the one who produced a baby from the union. I also didn’t send Brando along a path that would end in the death of his father. Place the blame where it’s deserved, Madre—at your own feet.”

  “It was an accident!”

  “So, ordering a hit is an accident now? That would make Valentino’s mother’s death an accident too.”

  “Why are you doing this to me?” she sobbed.

  “You did it to yourself by trying to manipulate us all.”

  “No, you’re the one who’s manipulating everyone. You’re using my mistakes to keep your title. Well, you can’t be the Don, you’re too dangerous. You proved that last night when you almost killed your own brother.”

  “Regardless, I will remain the Don, and if you want me to step down, then you’ll have to kill me, because I will NEVER relinquish my title willingly.” His eyes swept over the lounge. “And if anyone wants to challenge me, rise. We’ll have this out right now, because if there’s any more dissension, our famiglia will fall under the Landi. We need to be a united front.”

  Everyone remained quiet, a few of them looking at Dominic, who was glaring at him.

  Ricardo focused on Dominic too. “And if I go into battle or do a hit, only my soldiers will be by my side, because I won’t ever risk the lives of the ones I love again.” He shifted his gaze to Vinnie. “And you can cut me down if I ever break that promise.”

  Looking pained, Vinnie pushed out of his seat and walked to Ricardo. “I would rather die than hurt you, brother.” He stopped in front of him and bowed his head. “I give you my allegiance.”

  Dominic swore, then stormed out, slamming the back door behind him. Ricardo breathed out, realizing that although he’d hurt Vinnie physically, he’d hurt Dominic more. Without a doubt, it would take more than an apology to win Dominic back, but he would, because it wasn’t just an apology, it was a heartfelt promise.

  His eyes swept over the rest of his family. “Is there anyone else who wishes for me to step down from my role?”

  They shook their heads or answered with a “No.”

  “Grazie,” he said, relieved they hadn’t fought him more. “We have more important things to do than argue, such as getting Alessandro back. I will be making the exchange with the Donatelli shortly.”

  “You shouldn’t be going,” Salvatore said.

  “The Donatelli specifically asked for me.”

  “It could be an ambush.”

  “Which is why I’ll be taking a convoy of soldiers.”

  “And me.”

  “No. As I said, I don’t want any famiglia standing next to me. I won’t allow any of you to get hurt again.”

  “I’ve stood by your side before.”

  “The exchange happens today. I’m not medicated. What happens if they’ve hurt Alessandro? We don’t know what condition we’ll be getting him back in. I cannot promise I won’t lose my mind if he’s hurt, and with my insanity unencumbered, I’m a ticking time bomb. So, don’t challenge me again.”

  Salvatore’s jaw tightened, but he nodded, giving Ricardo his support.

  “Grazie, brother.” Ricardo’s eyes swept over the room again. “I promise that no matter what, I’ll be bringing Alessandro home today, even if it means I have to cut down every last Donatelli.”

  They all nodded, some of them telling him they supported and trusted him, though a few kept quiet, their eyes on their mother.

  “Now, I will take my leave to get prepared.” He turned to go.

  “Ricardo!” his mother called out.

  He turned back to her, expecting to be verbally attacked.

  “Please bring my Alessandro home safe,” she said.

  “I will.”

  “And if you do, I’ll owe you forever.”

  “You owe me nothing,” Ricardo said, knowing that Alessandro had always been her favorite, even above Brando.

  “Regardless, Alessandro needs to be brought to me when you return,” she breathed out, her eyes worried, “no matter what they’ve done to him. Please do that for me.”

  “Sì.” He turned to Salvatore. “Get the soldiers ready, while I go suit up. I need six cars’ worth.”

  Salvatore nodded and walked off.

  Ricardo headed for the staircase, not looking at Bianca as he ascended it, knowing she was watching him. She wasn’t for him, and he needed to keep his distance from her. He forced her out of his mind, his sole focus now on the exchange for Alessandro.

  As he neared his bedroom, he stumbled, his legs going numb for a second. He righted himself and pushed through his door, knowing he was going to lose his sense of touch again. He just hoped it held out for a few more hours, so he could feel one of his youngest brother’s famous bear hugs.

  13

  Ivy continued to peer through the small opening in the kitchen doorway. She’d watched the whole argument unfold before her eyes, the revelations and venom epic. The Santini were a fiery family, their tempers forged in Hell, especially Ricardo’s and his mother’s. Ivy thought the woman was a bitch, but she was still impressed with her—minus the crying bits. She’d never seen a grandmother with so much fight. She could see where Ricardo had gotten his temper. He had impressed her the most. He’d handled himself impeccably during the argument. Even when his mother had tried to push him into a corner, he’d stomped all over her, coming out the victor. She liked men like that, the type that would rather die than relinquish control.

  Her gaze moved to Salvatore as he emerged from a passageway with a troop of soldiers. He’d impressed her too, with the way he’d stood up for Ricardo while calming the others down. He was perfect for her sister. She just needed to work out how to dispose of Salvatore’s wife. Her focus shifted to the small strawberry-blonde. Rosa was sitting next to the wheelchair-bound Santini, the two deep in conversation.

  Ivy closed the door and leaned her ass against the bench, wondering how she could kill Rosa without anyone finding out she’d done it. A servant pushed through the kitchen door, snapping her out of her thoughts. It was the young guy who’d se
rved coffee to Salvatore during her interview. If he hadn’t shown his attraction to Salvatore she probably wouldn’t have noticed him, because his features were ordinary, neither attractive nor unattractive.

  Looking frightened, he quickly put the tray of glasses he was holding on the bench, then scurried out of the kitchen. She went to the door and pushed it open a fraction, watching him glance back at her. None of the other servants had reacted to her like that, which meant one thing: he knew who she was, which in turn meant he was Pedro’s spy.

  Ivy smiled, finding her perfect scapegoat to pin Rosa’s death on. She glanced back at the empty glasses he’d put on the bench. She could set it up for him to give Rosa a poisoned drink—like how Bianca had tried to kill her husband, something she’d learned from Pedro, the man an encyclopedia of useful information. Actually, maybe Bianca could take the fall. No, that wouldn’t work, because Bianca had no reason to kill Rosa, whereas the spy did. His attraction to Salvatore, along with being a spy, was enough of a motive to point the finger at him.

  Ivy turned and headed out the back of the kitchen. She crossed the courtyard, entering the servants’ quarters, which were several yards from the twins’ studio. Ivy grimaced, definitely not wanting the twins, no matter how attractive they were. Firstly, she hated tattoos after having to look at the Black Russian’s tattooed face and body for so long, and secondly, those bastards had the dirtiest mouths on them. She’d heard them yelling at each other while passing their studio earlier. She liked men, not Peter Pans who needed their mouths washed out with soap.

  She slipped into her room, changing into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. She then went for the phone, dialing through to security. The fat soldier picked up after a few rings, his annoyed voice suggesting she’d interrupted something, probably his lunch. She asked if she could get a lift out of the compound so she could see her sister. The soldier instructed her to go to the front of the house.

  She left her room, heading for the meeting point. When he saw her, he did a double take, probably surprised by her transformation. “You look different,” he said, opening the car door for her.