Then I fell in love.
I was taught to find a respectable woman to marry and bear my children—but never fall in love. My father had a different woman on his arm every night of the week, and none of them were ever my mother.
I thought I hid my feelings for Ari quite well from Rafe Caputo, and I suppose I did for a time, but mainly because he never expected me to bend a knee to a woman, to anyone. He thought he did a damn good job raising me into the man he expected me to become; a man like him.
There was even a time when my father was proud of the choice of wife I’d made. She was pure—until she wasn’t. She was docile, but unbeknownst to him, it was only in front of him or other men I was associated with. Submissive was never in Arianna D’Angelo’s vocabulary, and that was exactly what drew me to her.
She was my fire. She burned brighter than the goddamn sun on the hottest day. And I’ve missed her every fucking second that she’s been gone. There is no one that will ever compare to her, and no woman has warmed my bed since. I had the best, and it’s not in me to settle for anything less than my wife. God willing, I’ll have her back in my arms one day. It just won’t be today.
I can’t leave this earth until I’ve paved an honorable path for my children. The problem is, like their mother, they are my greatest weakness, and also my greatest success, but still a weakness, nonetheless. I’m not a strong enough man to hide my emotions when it comes to any of them. I love my kids more than anything on this earth or beyond it. I’d do anything for my children. I’d die for them without hesitation.
Pulling in a long breath of air, I hold it in for several heartbeats then it releases on a shudder. Turning my head, I eye my alarm clock like it’s an enemy.
4:44
Sixteen minutes until I need to be in my home gym working my tired old body like I’m still twenty-eight instead of forty-eight. I sit up, not having to toss the covers off. I never sleep under them, only on top. That’s just another one of my many weaknesses. I haven’t been able to crawl under sheets since the night before my wife’s murder.
Standing, I pad to my closet, pull out a black T-shirt, and pull it over my torso where the hem falls just below the top of my sweatpants. As I’m pulling on my sneakers, I can’t shake the feeling in my gut. I’ve avoided my children for the past week, but I can’t keep that up much longer.
There is so much hate in my chest that I don’t want them to see me like this. It’s taken every ounce of willpower I have not to gut my father like the fish meat he is. He’s another person I can’t avoid either. If I do, his paranoia will get the best of him and he’ll start to question what I’m up to.
He’s not a stupid man, which is why I have to play my part smarter than him, staying two steps ahead. He will die at my hands, but I can’t walk in his house guns blazing no matter how much I want to do just that.
For taking Ari from me, he will suffer pain like no man before him has ever experienced. For her, his death will not be quick.
The sound of my phone ringing pulls me from my morbid thoughts.
“Who the fuck is calling this early?”
Snatching it from my nightstand, I don’t eye the caller ID. Instead, in a tone that leaves no impression that I’m happy to be answering my phone before the sun is up, I say, “This better be good.”
“Tony, it’s Caesar.” A chill rolls down my spine. His voice alone has alarms firing off. “Sienna’s hurt. Someone tried . . .” his voice trails off and my balance falters. My arm juts out, my palm gripping the corner of my nightstand the only reason I don’t go to the ground.
“What?” I demand, my voice coming much stronger than reality. “Someone tried to do what?”
“Hurt her, rape her, take her, I don’t fucking know. And she won’t let me call an ambulance.”
“I’m on my way,” I tell him, racing from my bedroom. “And Caesar, if she needs to go to the hospital, get her to a goddamn hospital.”
I pocket my phone into my sweats not even hitting the button to disconnect the call. “Domenico!” I yell as loud as my vocals will boom, knowing he’s home, knowing the sound of my voice will alert him to the fact that something is wrong.
My hands are already shaking. I know there is not a chance I can drive in my current state, but I have to get to my baby girl. I can’t lose her too. I won’t. If someone thinks they can take her from me, they chose the wrong man’s daughter to fuck with.
My vision hazes and I see red.
“Jesus Christ, Dad,” Dom yells, his feet stomping as he flies down the stairs. “What the fuck?”
“Someone is going to die today. Let’s go,” I order, and with those words I yank on the door to the front of my house like I’m trying to rip it from the hinges. No motherfucker is safe from my wrath today.
Chapter 40
SIENNA
The funny thing is, or maybe the not so funny, is that I’m not even worried about my own injuries. My lip and jaw hurts from being backhanded. That alone makes my blood boil so hot it feels like my insides are cooking. Whoever did this to me will pay. He will pay with every fiber in his body after I’m finished with him.
My ribs on the lower left side of my body hurt the worst. I’m sure they are at minimum bruised. I doubt they’re broke, but what the hell do I know, I’m not a doctor, I just refuse to go get them checked out.
My ass is even sore, and my ankles are skinned up from being dragged across asphalt. My scalp hurts from where that motherfucker snatched me by the ponytail. My clothes are a mess; what’s left of them anyway. There are rips in every direction I look, so I’m basically avoiding anything downward—and mirrors. I haven’t even checked out the damage to my face yet.
But no, it’s not me I’m the least bit worried for. It’s Ren.
I’ve never seen Dad or even Dom in the state both are in. The glower marring both of their faces have been in place since they showed up to get me an hour ago. I argued with Dad for over thirty minutes because he was adamant about taking me to the hospital to get checked out.
He isn’t thinking clearly, though. At least Domenico agreed with me. Going to the hospital but not calling the cops? Yeah, that wouldn’t be wise. Not when I know Dad is out for more than just blood.
He has enough on his plate after learning the truth behind Mom’s . . .
I used to be able to let the thought of what happened to her pass through my mind, but for the past week I can’t seem to even do that. I force my mind to stop that word from forming.
This incident was the last thing Dad needed to deal with. Had I not been in such a daze, I wouldn’t have let Caesar call my father. I would have had him call Ren instead. If I’d done that, my twin wouldn’t be in the world of trouble he’s going to walk into any minute.
If I knew where my phone was, I could have warned him. It had been in my hand when I was jumped from behind, so for all I know it’s still in the parking lot or worse, ran over and smashed to pieces.
Fuck . . . I haven’t even called Matteo and we’re supposed to meet for lunch.
“Dad,” I call out, my voice sounding like a frog croaking, which makes no sense. I didn’t scream or wail, so what the hell? Dad’s haunted gaze snaps to mine, making me cringe. There is so much pain behind his eyes that I falter, not asking the question I originally intended to ask.
“What, Sienna?” His tone is harsh, but not in a way that he’s angry with me, because he’s not. His emotions are fried. In reality, he’s worse off than I am. If I thought walking over and giving him a hug would fix the expression he has trained on me, then I’d fight through the pain to do just that.
“Can I borrow your phone? I don’t know where mine is,” I finally voice.
“So, you can give your brother a heads-up?” His head shakes. “Fuck that.”
“Daddy,” I whine, and even to my own ears I sound like a child. Glancing to where Domenico is seated, his laptop on his knees, I say, “Dom, help me out here.”
Pursing his lips, his gaze goes from h
is screen to mine and I see a second of indecision behind his brown eyes. “Sorry. Ren deserves more than the ass chewing he’s going to get from Dad and you know it. I may beat the shit out of him myself.”
“This is not Ren’s fault. Stop blam—” The sound of the alarm system chimes, signaling that a door opened, stopping my argument, and my stomach clenches tight with dread. It’s the longest ten seconds of my life before the figures come into view, though with the breath I was holding, it could have been less.
“Took you long enough,” Dad barks in irritation as I sigh with relief that it’s Matteo and not Lorenzo.
Matteo’s hands go into the pockets of his black slacks and he stops at the entrance to the living room. He’s wearing a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. My brows pinch together, and I’m confused by his attire. It’s still early; so early that most of the east coast probably hasn’t even made it to work yet.
So why is Matteo here? And why is he somewhat dressed up when I know he was going to get in his workout before lunch?
“We having a family meeting?” Matteo jokes, a smirk set firm on his luscious lips.
“If we were, you wouldn’t be here,” Dom chimes in, his head never lifting from the laptop he’s back on doing God knows what. If I had to guess, he’s searching the gym cameras and the ones of the surrounding businesses for the man that tried to grab me.
“Wasn’t talking to you, brother,” Matteo says to Dom.
Matteo surprised me last week. I thought for sure he was going to run for the hills after Dad’s little display of a tradition that goes back longer than I know. My brothers and I went through a form of it after we turned eighteen, but other than us, he’s never done it to anyone else to my knowledge. And not in the way he relayed it to Matteo either.
What Dad performed with Matteo was closer to the real deal of becoming what’s known as a made man in the world of the American-Italian Mafia. From my understanding, there are other boss’s that still perform the rite of passage from a soldier to someone higher in rank. No one below the consigliere, the third highest ranking position, can perform the ritual.
“Cut the shit, De Salvo,” Dad says, his patience waning. “And from now on, bring my kid home or I’m going to come take yours and see how you like it. Capisce?”
“From my recollection, you’ve done that already,” Matteo deadpans, the amusement from his features gone in an instant.
“I’m not a kid, Dad. Jesus,” I wince, closing my eyes and gritting my teeth.
In the length of three heartbeats that it takes the sharpness of the pain to pass, my lashes lift to find Matteo crouching in front of my chair. “What the fuck happened?” Matteo’s breath fans my face, his ocean-blue eyes wide.
“It’s nothing. Don’t—”
“Don’t you dare try to brush this under the rug, Sienna,” Dad seethes. “It’s far from nothing. And when I find out who did this to you, I’m going to drain the life from that motherfucker so goddamn slow. Do you hear me? That’s a promise.”
I meet Matteo’s eyes, seeing his pupils dilate. “Someone . . . did this?” His chest expands and then deflates in such a slow pattern that if you didn’t know his ring habits like I do you’d think he was taking this news calmly. He’s far from calm; a hurricane brewing is a more apt description. It’s exactly what he does when he climbs the steps before stepping between the ropes to face an opponent. “When?”
I don’t get the chance to answer the question that’s directed at me. Dad decides to interject. “When she arrived at the gym a few hours ago.”
“Hours ago?” Matteo repeats. Swiveling his body to look at my dad, his fists clenched together. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me my girlfriend was jumped fucking hours ago, Tony?”
My dad clicks his tongue. “We’ll talk about that girlfriend term later, De Salvo. I told you to get your ass over here, didn’t I?”
“We won’t.” Matteo’s head shakes. “That’s a done deal. And had you told me Si was hurt I wouldn’t have dragged my ass, motherfucker.”
“Watch your fucking mouth with me. This is my house. This is my daughter. You will show me respect.”
“Would you two stop?” I force out, my tone telling them I’m not listening to their shit anymore. I’m sick of Dad and Matteo’s constant pissing contests. It was hot at first, someone standing up to Tony Caputo like I’ve never seen before, but now I’m over it.
“Holy fuck. What the hell happened to your face?” My eyes widen and my head whips to the side at the sound of my twin’s voice. In all the bickering, I didn’t hear the front door open. “Did Dom finally drag your ass home?” A laugh leaves Ren’s lips and I know he’s fucked before Matteo moves.
Pushing to a stand, Matteo turns to face Ren. “Where the fuck were you?”
“Last I checked, I’m not your business.”
Wrong thing to say, brother, I voice to myself as Matteo vanishes from in front of me quicker than I’ve ever seen someone move before. Dad lunges for Matteo as Dom tosses his laptop aside, but neither are quick enough. Instead of rounding the other couch opposite of the one Dom was occupying, Matteo steps onto the cushion and is over the top in record time, standing chest to chest with Lorenzo.
“Where the fuck were you?” Matteo yells this time around. When he shoves Ren backward my brother loses his balance and goes to the ground, Matteo on top of him in a blink of the eye. “You were supposed to meet her this morning.”
“Get the fuck off me, you prick.”
“Matteo,” I call out, “Get off him.”
“You weren’t fucking there, were you?” Matteo accuses.
Dad rounds the couch first and bends, grabbing Matteo under the arms, attempting to yank him back, but doesn’t succeed. Matteo’s solid frame doesn’t budge.
“Let him go, Matteo,” Dad says as Dom grips him on the other side. They both pull but Matteo doesn’t release Ren.
“Matteo,” I try again, but no one hears me over their struggle.
Ren’s going to get knocked out if I don’t do something. Fuck my life right now. I can’t believe I’m going to do this . . .
Unwrapping my arms from around me, I plant both on each side of the cushioned arms of the chair I’m occupying and push myself into a standing position. The movement hurts but I clench my teeth. When I see they are all still scrapping on the floor, I blow out a breath of air as I shake my head, annoyed. Then I fall to my knees.
“Matteo,” I cry out, hoping the damsel in distress act pays off. A ripple of pain latches onto my side, and for a second I regret the decision until I look up and Matteo is on his knees in front of me.
“Baby . . .” His palm goes to the side of my face that doesn’t ache, cupping my cheek in a gentle gesture of affection. It worked. My lips spread a hair in triumph. “Are you . . . Wait.” He pulls back, his brows furrowing. “Was that . . . Did you fake that fall?”
“Next time I call you or tell you to stop, do it.”
“I can’t believe you just faked that shit.” Matteo sits back. His hand drops from my face, and with the comfort gone my body aches resurface, causing me to cringe.
“The pain is real if that’s any consolation,” I tell him. Glancing up, I see my father straightening his T-shirt. It dawns on me what he’s wearing. On a rare occasion, Christmas usually, I might see my dad dressed down. I’m surprised he hasn’t gone to change his clothes yet.
“Where else are you hurt?” Matteo asks, his brows pinched together.
“Someone want to tell me what the fuck this is about?” Ren’s voice booms from where he’s finally standing in his original spot in the entrance way.
“Motherf—” I snatch Matteo by his bicep, pulling with half my strength as pain tears through me from my sudden movement. When his eyes cut to mine, I shake my head.
“Someone tried to grab your sister when she stepped out of her car this morning,” Dad informs him.
“Grabbed?” Matteo whispers. “As in someone tried to kidnap her?
”
“What?” Ren’s voice turns serious, panicked almost.
“We’re not sure, but from what she told us, that’s what it sounded like,” Dom fumes. He walks behind Matteo as I push myself up to sit back in the same spot I was seated in before, same as Dom does, pulling his laptop back over onto his thighs.
“He was probably just looking to get lucky, you guys. Why would anyone want to kidnap me?” I toss out, but even as the words exit my mouth, something in my gut tells me that’s exactly what the man was doing.
Something about him just . . .
Hell, I don’t know. My head hurts and I’d rather be showering right now than sitting front and center continuing the interrogation that started when Dad and Dom showed up. I’ve only seen my dad visibly shake one other time, and that’s when he found me hiding in my closet after what happened to Mom. When he toted me to Dom’s Range Rover, he not only placed me in the back but got in with me, his limbs vibrating the entire ride home. He didn’t let me go until he sat me in the comfy chair I’m occupying now.
Standing, Matteo takes one step and stops in front of my chair, looking down. “I want to know exactly what happened, Si.”
“I don’t know. I got out of my car, and as soon as the door was closed I saw a shadow through the window and the next thing I knew the guy’s arm was around my waist. Then I was lifted off the ground and he was moving us away from my car, in the opposite direction of the gym.” I take a breath and then continue, relaying the events of earlier this morning the best I can remember. “I was struggling to get his arm loose, but he said something like You belong to me, but my ears were ringing so maybe I didn’t hear him right. I threw my head back, connecting it with his face, and that’s when he dropped me, but he recovered quicker than me. He snatched my hair by my ponytail and started dragging me. I fucking panicked, okay?” My voice rises as my fist balls, and I slam it down on the arm of the chair, mad at myself, at the way I handled the situation. The vibration sends a jolt of pain through me, but I clamp my teeth together to stop myself from crying out.
Bad Princess: A Mafia Romance Page 27
