Becoming the Hitman (Zanetti Famiglia Book 5)

by Hayley Faiman

  “You’re back for the day?” I ask.

  Renzo hums. “I am.”

  He doesn’t say anything else, his focus out on the water in front of us. We stay that way, in silence for a while. It’s nice, I don’t mind it, in fact, I enjoy it. Sitting in the warm sunshine watching the water, sitting next to this man that every minute I seem to fall deeper and deeper into.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  SIOBAHN

  “Dress for dinner?” Renzo asks.

  I hum, looking over to him. I have my phone in hand, an e-book that I downloaded after we watched the water for far too long and my skin started to turn pink. The rest of the afternoon I have spent curled up in the corner of the sofa while I read and Renzo has been walking around the condo, back and forth to his study, and outside to talk on the phone.

  “Dinner?”

  He dips his chin in a nod. “Vino just called, said the girls want to meet at the restaurant.”

  “Renzo,” I hiss. “I don’t have anything to wear. I left almost everything back at home, you said we’d get new things.”

  I blink, unbelieving that I just said what I did. I sound like a spoiled little bitch. Lifting my head, my eyes widen as the realization of how I sounded hits me. Renzo is smirking at me, not at all fazed by my cold attitude and words.

  “You have something that’ll do? Tomorrow you’ll shop, yeah?”

  Pressing my lips together, I nod. I’m not sure if I really have something that will do, but I’ll make it happen. I want to meet his friends, but this is his boss’s wife and I want to make a really good impression.

  Standing, I clear my throat before giving him a smile. “I’ll make it happen,” I breathe.

  He grins, but doesn’t say anything else. I watch as he turns and heads toward the kitchen. The few things that I did bring with me were my styling tools and makeup, so even if my clothes look terrible, my hair will be on point.

  Walking into the bedroom, I freeze in my tracks when I see a glossy red bag and two boxes in the middle of the bed. I hear Renzo clear his throat behind me.

  Spinning around, my lips are parted in awe as I look up to him. He’s leaning against the doorjamb, looking directly at me, that cocky smirk playing on his lips.

  “Women like new dresses for parties, yeah?” he asks.

  I shake my head slowly. “Renzo,” I breathe.

  He pushes off of the door with his shoulder and saunters toward me, his eyes never leaving mine, his lips firmly placed in that cocky way.

  “Go and open it,” he urges, jerking his chin behind me.

  Lifting my hands, I place my palm against his chest as I tilt my head backward and look up into his eyes. He’s watching me, but his amber gaze, it’s not sparkling at all. His lips are semi-smiling, but his eyes are nowhere near.

  Renzo grips my hips and gives me a squeeze. He dips his chin, touching his lips to mine with a brush, but he doesn’t move his mouth away from my own. “Go and see what I’ve bought you, cuoricino,” he rasps against my lips.

  I let out a breath, unsure of what I’m going to find in the bag. Renzo releases me and I sink my teeth into my bottom lip as I turn around to face the box. What if I hate it? Could I hate it? He did buy it for me, somehow.

  “When did you even get it here?” I ask as my feet begrudgingly carry me toward the beautiful bags.

  I shake my head once and decide to get my act together. So what if it’s ugly? Renzo bought it for me, he wants to see me in it and I’ve never had a man buy me anything other than a meal before.

  He chuckles. “I walked right past you, cuoricino.”

  I blink, looking up at him. “You did?”

  Renzo shakes his head, a smile playing on his lips as if he thinks I’m funny, maybe even a little cute. “Yeah, I did. You were engrossed. What were you doing?”

  Taking another step toward the bed, and another, I reach for the thick ribbon handles of the bag and gently tug it open farther. There is something wrapped in black tissue paper inside and I take it out, placing it on the bed.

  “I was reading,” I explain.

  “You like to read,” he states.

  I hum as I gently tug the tape apart and open the small package. “You know that I do. Romance, and suspense,” I confess.

  When the tissue paper is open, I’m not surprised to see that the fabric staring back at me is black. Looking over my shoulder, I smile back at him.

  “I’ll have to get started on your library sooner rather than later.”

  “You will,” I whisper. “Do you like black?” I ask changing the subject.

  He grins. “I do.”

  “Noted,” I whisper.

  Renzo’s eyes twinkle, then he clears his throat and jerks his chin. Turning back to the paper, I reach for the fabric and hold it up. It’s a tank dress, stretchy and soft cotton. It’s not too short, as I hold it up to me, I guess that it will stop just above my knees, but hug every single curve of my body, whether I want it to or not.

  Spinning around, I smile at him. “It’s beautiful,” I breathe.

  He nods his head once. “Shoes are in the box. I have a coat for you too, since it’s cool at night.”

  “You know that I don’t mind the cold,” I murmur.

  He chuckles. “Yeah, I know, cuoricino. However, what kind of man would I look like if my woman wasn’t dressed properly, huh?”

  “It’s important, how you look to other people?”

  Renzo shakes his head a couple of times and closes the distance between us. He lifts his hand, cupping my cheek as his eyes search mine.

  “Not really. Not the world, anyway, but my famiglia. Yeah.”

  “Your famiglia? I thought your parents were both gone?”

  He hums, leaning forward and touching his mouth to mine. “They are. You’ll see, Siobahn. Go and get dressed, yeah? We leave in forty-five.”

  His hand falls away from me and I watch as he takes a step back, gives me a wink, then walks out of the room leaving me alone. Turning back to the bed, I lay the dress down before I reach for the red box.

  Slowly, I slip the lid off of the box and lift my fingers to my mouth as I attempt to hold in my gasp. The shoes staring back at me are black pumps, with sky-high thin heels, but that isn’t what has me gasping in shock.

  Christian Louboutins stare right back at me. The red soles of the shoe tell me everything that I need to know.

  I can’t accept these, at least that’s what I attempt to tell myself as my fingers skim the finery of the shoe. Closing my eyes, I almost moan at the feel of them beneath my touch. I love them. I’ve only ever seen them in magazines and on the internet. I never in a million years imagined that I would slip them onto my own feet.

  Taking a step back, I look at the closed doorway where Renzo just disappeared and I wonder if I can accept all of this. Then I remember that he said he would take care of everything, of me, and I can’t help but smile.

  I could be falling into the Devil’s trap, but I’m not sure that I mind. Not if it means a man who cares, who gives the best orgasms I’ve ever had, and buys me beautiful things along with the fact that he’s just plain good to me… at least so far.

  Everything could change in an instant. I, for one, know how quickly life can change for someone. I decide that I’m going to just accept it all, take it, welcome it and enjoy every minute of this. No more second-guessing, I keep saying that to myself, but I mean it this time.

  He’s going to introduce me to all of his closest people and I am going to soak every second of this in.

  Every. Single. Moment.

  RENZO

  The conversation with Emilyn, also known as Emily, weighs heavily on my shoulders as I drive toward the restaurant to introduce Siobahn to all of the women. Once Gavino’s wife, Luciana, found out about her, she wouldn’t have it any other way, there was to be a party tonight to meet her.

  I can’t deny that I’m excited about seeing everyone again, especially Pippa. When she called me with the news o
f her new addition, I wanted nothing more than to hug her. You learn a lot about someone when you live with them for as long as we shared a home.

  Pippa is like the sister I never had, Rosana as well, but Pippa is special to me. I was sent to protect her and that feeling, that need, it doesn’t go away, even if her husband is home from prison.

  “Renzo?” Siobahn asks.

  Turning to her, I give her a small smile before I shift my gaze back to the road and continue to drive. She doesn’t say anything else, but I feel her fingers wrap around the top of my hand, she laces them with mine and I make a fist.

  Holding hands.

  It shouldn’t mean anything, but it does. I’m sure that there are women out there who would have held my hand in the past, but none have ever been close enough to do that. I’ve never allowed it, not until now. Not until Siobahn.

  The restaurant appears and I park the car before I unfold and walk over to the passenger side. Opening the door, I take the all-black mink coat with fox fur collar that I bought Siobahn from her lap and hold it out for her. She shakes her head as she stands on her brand-new high heels, then slips her arms into the coat.

  Dipping my chin, I touch my lips to the side of her neck. “It will be good, cuoricino,” I rasp against her skin.

  She doesn’t say anything, but she can’t hide the shiver that rolls through her. Stepping to the side, I close the car door and hold out my hand for her. I liked having her fingers laced with mine, and I’m not ready for that to end quite yet.

  Siobahn looks from my hand to my eyes, then steps toward me and slips her palm in mine before she widens her fingers and together, we make our way toward the restaurant. Opening the door, I release her hand as she walks into the waiting area.

  I’m not surprised to see a hostess that I recognize standing behind a podium. She grins at me, her eyes for me and only me as I walk up to her. She’s a nice girl, but I’m more than certain all of us have had a night or two with her.

  “Your party is waiting for you,” she breathes.

  Siobahn stands next to me stiffly. Sliding my hand around her waist, I squeeze her before I shift and press my palm to the small of her back. Together we walk through the restaurant.

  I have no doubt that all eyes are on us, at least they’re on Siobahn. She looks exactly the way a Made Man’s woman should look. Dressed to the nines, wearing an outfit that cost as much as most people make in a month. She’s perfect. Inside and out.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  SIOBAHN

  Nervous doesn’t begin to describe how I feel right now. We walk toward the back of the restaurant. I ignore the fact that the hostess was eye-fucking Renzo, because I’m honestly too nervous to care. I’m not sure that I would anyway, he’s got his arm around me, not her.

  She stops in front of a doorway, her hand on the knob, then turns to look over her shoulder at Renzo. I don’t exist to her, and that’s perfectly fine with me. My vision is blurred as my heart rate spikes.

  I don’t know if I can do this, if my heart can take this. I’m terrified of what lies behind that door. Renzo must sense my hesitation, he tips his chin, looking down at me. Turning my head, I tilt back so that I can look up into his eyes.

  “They will love you, cuoricino.”

  Licking my lips, I press them together and try not to burst into tears. He chuckles, moving closer and touches his mouth to mine. His lips brush mine, but he’s careful not to smear my lipstick, as if he’s had a lot of practice at not smearing women’s lipstick.

  “Will they?”

  He grins. “They will, Siobahn.”

  The hostess throws open the door and I turn my head to see an entire room full of people watching me, unspeaking. The men staring back at me are gorgeous, and not just a few of them, every single one of them is downright panty-melting. The women, the same. If I were ever going to experiment, it would be with the women staring back at me, any of them.

  “Shall we?” Renzo murmurs.

  I nod my head once, taking a step forward, then another. The hostess melts away, thankfully, then I hear the door close behind us once we’re completely in the room. I spy Gavino sitting down, watching everything, a smirk playing on his lips.

  “This is Siobahn,” Renzo announces.

  The room is quiet for just another moment, then erupts with voices. Everyone is talking over everyone else and a beautiful woman with glossy black hair hurries toward me as Renzo removes my coat.

  “You’re gorgeous,” she says as she reaches for me, taking my hands in hers. “I’m Luciana, Gavino’s wife.”

  Without another word, she tugs me behind her and guides me over toward a group of women. I don’t know what I expected, but seeing them, they’re all as different as they are alike. They’re beautiful, but in their own unique way.

  I’m introduced to several women, none of which I recall even a moment after their names are spoken. I watch as their eyes widen at something behind me and I start to look over my shoulder when Luciana slips her arm in mine and guides me toward a chair.

  “Sit,” she urges.

  I ignore her urging. I need to see behind me. I wish that I didn’t. I wish that I didn’t look. My eyes widen, then pain slashes through me at the sight.

  A woman lifts her arms, wrapping them around Renzo. I watch as he does the same, wrapping his hands around her waist, but that isn’t what has my eyes widening.

  It’s the look on his face.

  The smile.

  The way his eyes smile specifically.

  This is her. This is the woman who was on the phone with him. The one that made his entire face light up. His eyes sparkle and the light actually catches them from across the room. I blink a couple of times, clearing my throat before I turn to the women around me.

  I follow Luciana’s urging and sink down in a chair where my back is to the embracing couple. I’m glad for it, seeing that, seeing them, it’s too painful a sight to bear.

  “So, Gavino tells me that you are a hairstylist?” Luciana asks.

  She’s obviously trying to engage me in conversation and keep me from internally freaking out. She can try, but it won’t work. I am freaking out, and in pain, my entire body hurts, it’s so bad that I ache just attempting to breathe.

  I don’t know why it hurts as bad as it does. It shouldn’t. In reality, I hardly know Renzo, but deep inside I want this to work out so badly, I have so much hope, or at least I did. I see now that there is someone else, even if he is not with her, he wishes he were. It’s as clear as day on his face. He does not hide his admiration for her.

  “I am,” I answer with a fake smile and a terrible attempt to hide the tremble in my voice.

  A blonde woman reaches for my hand and gently squeezes it. “Yes, my Arlo told me too, he said that they were looking for a building near my shop for you. I’m so excited to have a friend on the same block,” she says with a grin. “I’m Lenora, by the way.”

  “You own the lingerie shop?” I ask, continuing to attempt to distract myself from my own thoughts.

  She nods with a grin. “I do, it’s call Sugar Cookies. You’ll have to come by, check things out, maybe we can go for a coffee?” she asks.

  A man walks up behind her, a young child in his arms. “Simonetta wants Mama,” He chuckles as he plops her down in her lap.

  Lenora narrows her eyes, then tips her head back. “Doubtful, Arlo Zanetti,” she snaps.

  He chuckles, but doesn’t elaborate. I watch as he walks away toward the group of men and they all move toward the darkened corner of the room.

  “He wanted to have a talk with his men, nothing more,” she says, rolling her eyes.

  “Do they all work together?” I ask, trying to change the subject.

  The women stare at me. They openly gawk at my question, but none of them speak. “What?” I ask.

  “You don’t know what Renzo does for a living?” another woman asks. I can’t remember her name, but she’s striking nonetheless.

  Shaking my
head, my gaze flicks to each of them, and they aren’t telling me anything with their eyes, let alone their mouths.

  “I don’t,” I admit.

  It’s as if they move as one person, all but a beautiful darker-skinned woman, she leans forward. “Girl,” she snaps. “You are going to be totally fucked-up when you find out. What do you think Renzo does for a living?”

  “Chloe,” Luciana snaps.

  Chloe’s brows rise and she shifts her gaze from me to Luciana. “What?” she asks.

  Luciana shakes her head. “It is not your place,” she says, as if she’s the one in charge and they must follow her words.

  “I thought he maybe worked for the American government?” I say.

  I expect the women to laugh, maybe say that I’ve guessed correctly, but they don’t. Chloe presses her lips together, but doesn’t say anything. The rest just shift their gazes to the floor, then the one who originally asked if I knew what Renzo does for a living, sinks her teeth into her bottom lip.

  “I’m Nicola, by the way.”

  I remember the name, instantly, I recall the conversation that Gavino and I had. Nicola runs the BDSM club. I blink slowly as I look at her. She doesn’t look like she’s into that kinky stuff, but apparently, I don’t even know what Renzo does for a living, so it’s not like I am any kind of judge on occupations.

  “Renzo is great. We’re all really excited to have you here. I’m sorry if it’s all a bit overwhelming. Most of us have known one another for years,” she explains.

  Nodding my head, I don’t say anything else. The women begin to talk amongst themselves. There are a few small children running around and playing, but Renzo doesn’t come near me the rest of the evening.

  He is with the woman that he hugged, he is with the men, then he went back to the woman he hugged, but not once, not even to eat does he walk in my direction.