The First Sin (Sins of the Past Book 1)

by Jillian Quinn

  I stared at the motherfucking bouquets of orchids that surrounded my mother’s closed casket and wanted to scream. Why couldn’t she have liked Calla Lilies or something other than white orchids? Whatever flower she liked I was sure I would have hated them on the principle they were everywhere.

  At her funeral.

  My mother was dead.

  I had no mother.

  My chest caved every time I took a deep breath. I drank vodka straight from the water bottle I’d brought with me from home. Angelo sat next to me, holding me tight against his chest. For once, I felt nothing. Absolutely nothing. I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. I wanted to punch everyone who got in my way.

  “I’m here,” Angelo said against the shell of my ear. “Just let it out, G. I got you.”

  I felt nothing.

  For no one.

  I was empty.

  Even Angelo couldn’t make me feel. He was there, but I didn’t care. For all I knew, he was responsible.

  Why did I still love him?

  Why did my body still crave him?

  Why did he still own every part of me?

  We had a Catholic funeral mass, even though my mother never went to church after I made my Communion. I hadn’t gone in so many years I wasn’t even sure of the protocols anymore. The hymns sounded familiar. The music reminded me of faded memories from my past. I zoned out for most of the mass until the priest whipped me out of my drunken haze.

  “Bianca’s daughter, Gianna, would like to say a few words about her mother,” the priest said, looking straight at me.

  Angelo rubbed his hand down my arm. “You want me to go up there with you?”

  I shook my head and slipped out of Angelo’s grasp. When I stood, my heels felt too tall, and my legs were like rubber from all the alcohol I’d ingested. I staggered up the few stairs to the pulpit and just about fell into it. Somehow, I managed to hold on to the edge and slid behind it.

  “Thank you,” I said to the priest, who nodded and took his seat near the altar behind me.

  With my back turned to the priest and altar boys, I looked out into the crowd. There were so many people I had trouble seeing the back of the church. It was as if everyone from the old neighborhood had showed up for the occasion. I recognized people from my law classes as well as some of Angelo’s business associates and Made guys.

  The entire Morelli family took up the front left pew. Angelo’s asshole brothers were there along with his parents. Sonny was in the pew behind them with his mother and younger sister. His dad was still in jail. All of the guys from Fat Tony’s racing crew were a few rows back. My father and grandmother sat opposite Angelo’s family to my right. There were too many people in the crowd. The more I stared at them, the more nervous I became.

  Did my mother even know these people?

  I pulled the microphone to me and tapped it with my finger, the sound reverberating throughout the church.

  “I sat up all last night, trying to come up with something clever to say today.” I let out a frustrated groan, trying to recall at least one thing I’d written down. My mind was blank. “But I got nothing. What can I say about my mother you don’t already know? She was complicated and distant for a long time. My mom hated what my father did for a living. She never fully came to terms with anything I did, at least not until the night she died.”

  I gripped the front of the pulpit with one hand and drank from the water bottle in the other. “In case you’re wondering… this is vodka, no chaser. I drank about a fifth of it while I was trying to write a eulogy. Maybe I don’t have one because I got blackout drunk, or maybe it was because I have nothing to say. I don’t know.”

  “Gianna,” my grandmother said under her breath from the front row. “Stop acting like a heathen.”

  I stepped out from the pulpit with the microphone and water bottle in my hand.

  “Hey, Nona!” I tipped the bottle in my grandmother’s direction. “News flash, I am a heathen. I’ll be lucky if I don’t set on fire while I’m up here. If I do, maybe go run in the back and dump some holy water on me.”

  A few people in the church laughed. I raised my water bottle to them, before drinking from it. Then, I kicked off my heels and breathed a loud sigh of relief into the microphone. “Much better.” I giggled. “You know, my mom picked out those heels for me. She said they would make my legs look longer. I’m five feet tall. Nothing’s going to make my legs look longer, and they hurt like a fucking bitch.”

  My dad got up from the front pew and held out his hand. “Let’s go, Gianna. You’ve embarrassed yourself enough.”

  “No Daddy,” I whined into the microphone, pulling away from him. “I’m not done yet. I have more I want to say.”

  “Sweetheart, please just say whatever it is you want to say about your mother and wrap this up. You’re drunk and cursing in a church.”

  “The priest gets drunk off communion wine. Why can’t I drink Grey Goose?”

  I gazed at Angelo who had a strange look on his face. It was a cross between a scowl and a smile. He was amused but not. Angelo had no idea how to handle me. Ever since the night of the accident, he tried to do everything in his power to console me. There was nothing he could say or do to take away the pain. His family was the reason my mother was dead, though I wasn’t sure how much of a hand they’d played in her death.

  Part of me hated Angelo for that. Paulie threatened my father to invite the Morellis to the charity event, and then my mother was killed. Something about that didn’t sit well with me. I had no idea who I could trust or how I should feel.

  I shook my dad off and sat on the bottom step in front of the altar. The white marble was freezing cold and sent a chill down my legs. I raised the microphone to my mouth and glanced over at my dad who was sitting down next to my grandmother.

  “Sorry, Nona,” I said, meaning it, and she flashed a closed mouth smile at me in response. “Sorry to whoever took offense to anything I’ve said since I got up here. This is hard, you know.” I set the bottle on the ground next to me and propped myself up by digging my elbows into my thighs. I clasped the microphone tightly in my hands and looked out at the massive crowd.

  “One of the last things my mom ever said to me was that she was proud of me. She never told me that. We never talked as much as either of us would have liked. She didn’t approve of who I’m dating, or at least I never thought she did. She helped me get ready for the fundraiser. It was the first time we’d had a real conversation in years. She told me we were more alike than I’d realized, and that my dad was like my Angelo when he was younger. I laughed and said no way.”

  I shifted the microphone to my other hand since the right one was going numb. “There’s a point to this story, I promise. I asked her if she approved of me marrying Angelo. We’re not engaged or anything in case you’re wondering. But c’mon, Angelo already asked me when I was five, so you know, it’s kind of a done deal.”

  The people in the crowd laughed for real this time, and not because I was making an ass of myself. I looked at Angelo, and he winked.

  “The reason I’m mentioning this story is because of my mom’s response. She never said things like this to me. My mom was private and closed off, not just with me but also with everyone she knew. For her to say something I’ll remember for the rest of my life on the night of her death is important. I believe we had this conversation for a reason.”

  The room was spinning around me. Despite the waves of sickness which washed over me, I pushed through it because I had to finish my speech.

  “Here’s what she said to me. ‘I think you should marry someone you can’t live without, someone who makes you so happy.’ Anyone who knew my mom also knew she never said sentimental things like that. But she did on that night. Anyway, so I told her I have that with Angelo.” I looked at him and continued, “No one makes me feel the way he does. When we’re together, it’s as if I’m the only person alive. I am strong when I’m with him. He gives me so much more than his love.
Other than Dad, Angelo’s the best man I know.”

  “What did your mom say?” Angelo asked, egging me on.

  Oh, right. I’d almost forgotten to tell them the rest of the story.

  “She smiled and said, ‘Then, yes, I think you should marry him.’ It was the best piece of advice she ever gave me. For once, she acted like my parent. My dad did everything with me… my homework, drove me to field hockey practice, took me to school, taught me how to ride a bike, drive a car…” I paused then continued, “Oh… wait, no… that was Angelo. I think he stole that car.” I laughed to myself and tried to push myself up to my feet. Then, I looked at Angelo. “Did you steal the Mustang? I can’t remember. It’s a giant blur now.”

  His eyes and mouth said ‘yes’ but he shook his head ‘no.’ I held out my hand in his direction. “Help me up, Lo.”

  Angelo got up from the pew and pulled me up from the floor and into his arms. “You’re embarrassing your dad, G. And telling people about illegal shit I did.” He spoke the words against the shell of my ear, his voice so low I had to strain to hear him.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled. “Are you going to handcuff me to your bed and spank me for it later? Maybe you should stop doing illegal shit for me to talk about.”

  I hadn’t realized it until Angelo took the microphone from my hand, I’d said the last part so everyone could hear.

  Shit.

  I leaned down to speak into the microphone and said, “And that concludes the comedic portion of this funeral. Goodnight everyone.”

  Some people laughed. It was the only thing I could think of to say which could help make me look less idiotic. Nothing would help me. I was a fucking mess. I picked up my heels from the floor. Without looking at anyone—Angelo included—I power walked across the left side of the church and ran out the door.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Angelo

  Gia was a complete disaster throughout the entire funeral service. She implicated me in an illegal activity which, if connected back to me, could be used in a federal case against my family. I was sure there was an FBI agent lurking somewhere in the crowd. They were always present, always following us around. In all the years we were together, Gia had never done something so reckless, so stupid. She knew the law better than anyone. We studied it together in school. She was falling apart, and I had no idea how to help her.

  I still had the microphone in my hand when I glanced down at my dad.

  “Fix this,” he growled under his breath.

  “Sorry,” I said into the microphone and stared out into the expanse of the church. “Gianna’s not herself right now. Please excuse her for everything she’s just said. She’s hurting. This is a hard time for her.”

  Some of the people in the crowd either smiled or nodded. They understood she was losing her mind. It was abundantly clear from the show she’d put on for everyone at the funeral mass. I jogged up the few steps to the pulpit, placed the microphone back in the holder, and followed after Gia.

  I found my beautiful mess on the grass out front of the church, with her dark curls fanned out around her head and her short, black dress riding up her thighs. She looked like a dark angel, all made up with bright red lips that parted for me when she looked up at me.

  “Hi,” she said under her breath. “Did you come out here to yell at me?”

  I sat on the grass in a thousand-dollar suit and slid my jacket off my shoulders. “No, I’m not going to yell at you. If the same thing had happened to Ma, I would have been far worse. Your dress is getting dirty. Here,” I offered my jacket to her, and she sat up enough for me to place it under her.

  She scooted up to me and laid her head on my lap, staring up at me. “Will you tell me the truth?”

  “About what?” I was confused by her question.

  “My mom. Did she die because of your family? Was I supposed to die that night, too? Was my dad?”

  I threaded my fingers through her hair and sighed. “I have no idea, G. It doesn’t make any sense. If Enzo and his crew wanted to take out my dad, they would have rigged his car to blow not your dad’s.”

  “Did your dad do it to teach my dad a lesson?”

  “No.” I shook my head almost sure it was the correct answer. My father was capable of anything. I never put anything past him. “My dad loves your dad. He would never hurt him.”

  “Are you sure about that? You didn’t hear the conversation between my dad and Paulie. My mom died the night of the event Paulie forced my dad to allow your family to attend.”

  “Listen to yourself, babe. You sound crazy. Why would my dad want to come to a charity event to kill your mom? If he was going to whack your dad, no one would even know about it. He sure as hell wouldn’t have done it on the night he was trying to win over politicians.”

  She sighed. “I guess you’re right. I want someone to blame for taking her from me. She wasn’t around for a large portion of my life, but I loved her. She was still my mom. I miss her, Angelo.”

  I twisted one of her curls between my fingers. “I know, G. I’m so sorry. I have no idea what to do or say to make it better.”

  “Going through this made me realize the same thing could happen to you or me. I don’t want to die, Angelo. I didn’t sign up for this.”

  “What happened to death do us part?”

  She closed her eyes and tears streamed down her face, mixing with her mascara. “I love you, but I’m scared. I think we should spend some time apart.”

  “No,” I growled. “You are not leaving me, G. When I said you’re mine, I fucking meant it. We’re in this shit together. Forever.” I slipped my hand beneath the thin straps on her shoulders and dug my finger into her skin, not meaning to hurt her. “We made promises to each other.”

  She held her hands up to her face and sobbed. “I need some time, Angelo. Give me some space.” Gia sat up and folded one leg over the other, her eyes pointed down at the grass. “I have spent almost every day with you since we were kids. We’ve never had a break from each other. We never even dated other people.”

  “What are you saying?” My jaw clenched in anger, rushing through me in red-hot waves. “You want to fuck other people?”

  She shook her head. “No, of course not. You’re the only man I’ve ever been with, and I want it to stay that way. All I ask is for some time to be alone. I need to decompress and help my father heal. He needs me just as much as I need him.”

  “This isn’t a break,” I told her. “We are still together.”

  “Don’t be silly, Angelo. I’m not going to run into the arms of another man when we’re not together. You will still see me at school. The only difference is I won’t sleep at your house, and we won’t have sex.”

  “Am I missing something here? You don’t want to see me, and you don’t want to have sex. That sounds like a breakup.”

  “I’ll send you pics.” She looked up from the ground and smiled at me. “You can jerk off to my tits until I feel like having sex again.”

  Before her mother’s death, I fucked Gia every chance we had. Bathrooms at school, the library, my car, her office, wherever I could bend her over.

  “My dick is starting to hate my hand,” I confessed. More like I was getting tired of jerking off to the idea of her when I had her right in front of me. “I’d rather you suck my cock and let me come on your tits.”

  She laughed. “Give me a few days, okay?”

  “For you,” I sighed. “I would do anything.”

  “Have patience.” She squeezed my hand. “Let me grieve, and I will come back to you on my own.”

  “What about protection? You’re not safe right now.”

  “My dad has that covered.”

  “By who?”

  “Connor O’Shea.”

  I narrowed my eyes at her. “Please tell me that’s a joke. Your dad’s going to let that potato-eating prick watch over you and not one of my men. I don’t think so. No, not gonna happen, babe.”

  “Connor is nice to me. He doesn�
�t hover like you and your men.”

  “That’s because he doesn’t care about you like I do. He would never do what’s necessary to keep you safe.”

  “My dad arranged it with the O’Sheas. Your dad is okay with it.”

  “I can’t believe you kept this from me.”

  Her betrayal stung, slicing into my chest. We’d never kept secrets. Gia was always honest with me.

  “I never lied.”

  “You hid the truth,” I countered. “Same difference.”

  “I was waiting for the right time,” she hissed.

  “You don’t want me to fuck you. My men are not good enough to watch over you. I feel like you’re giving me a hint without saying it.”

  “It’s not a breakup, Angelo. Stop it.” Gia ran her fingers up my arm, tickling me. “My mom is dead. We’re sitting on the grass at her funeral when I should be inside. We are out here because I just had a fucking meltdown in front of hundreds of people. I need time to lick my wounds. That’s all, nothing more.”

  “Fine. You get one week.” I leaned forward to kiss her on the forehead. “I will find who did this to your mom. I promise.”

  “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

  “I never do. It might take time to figure all of this out, but I swear I will try my best. I can’t bring your mom back, but maybe I can give you some closure.”

  She bit her bottom lip, making me want to take it into my mouth and suck on it. “I want to do it.”

  “Do what?”

  “I want to kill the person who killed my mom.”

  I had no idea how to respond. Gia was dead set on getting her revenge. Blood demanded blood. I had to give it to her. She deserved justice. She deserved peace. Most of all, she deserved a better man than me. But I was too selfish to let her go.

  Gianna Carlini was part of me, her essence engrained in every memorable experience I’d ever had. She could push me away all she wanted, but I would never let her go. She was mine.