Only he'd failed.
Hastings is one of those good guys who think they can carry the weight of the entire world on their shoulders. Well, given his wife's penchant for remorseless killing, I'd say he has his plate full.
Of course Hastings would recognize his long-lost mentor. And now he can link him to the Gallaghers and... me.
Fuck!
"Do you realize what this means?" I grit my teeth, my plans threatening to fall apart. Everything I'd worked for throughout these years will be for nothing.
"Yes. I need to recalculate everything," Jimenez replies, and I stifle the urge to throw my phone across the room.
Fucking hell!
No, I can't let this happen. I need to regroup and figure something fast. At this rate, Rocco is bound to find out that the Gallaghers have been working for the enemy the entire time. And while that has been the plan all along, it's too soon! We still have to do a complete merger with the Gallaghers in order to leave everything in Jimenez's hands.
No, something needs to be done.
"Indeed," I say, and I hang up. I can't find it in me to care about Jimenez's sensibilities now that I'm in danger of being discovered, and my revenge will be worthless should that happen.
Massaging my temples, I start thinking. Fast.
This little stunt is precipitating my plans, and I have to skip months of perfect planning,
"What in the fucking hell am I going to do?" I mutter to myself, aimlessly looking around my office, hoping an idea would form.
At this point, it's not about getting the perfect revenge. It's about ensuring father's death — in an appropriate and satisfying manner — but also self-preservation. It has to be done in a way that will not be suspicious to anyone in the famiglia. The last thing I need is a target on my back.
My eyes drift to my calendar and I see the date for the inauguration match of one of the arenas. It's only a few days away, and as I hone in on that, a plan starts forming in my mind.
I just need a precise moment and a perfect audience. The wheels are turning in my head and soon I have a comprehensive plan of action. One that might not be as satisfying as watching father's expression in the face of his crumbling empire, but that will at least ensure his demise.
Making a few phone calls, I make sure to have eyes on Hastings and his wife at all times.
A few days later, luck turns out to be on my side as I hear from my men that the Hastings have left their apartment.
It seems I don't have to coax them out of hiding.
This plan verges on their presence for several reasons. They will act as witnesses, and as aids when the moment comes. And knowing the truth, they will immediately suspect Jimenez acting out of fear that he'd been discovered.
I look down at the body at my feet, annoyed I have to get rid of it fast. I'd come here to get Matthew to agree to my plan, but instead, he'd been adamantly against it, saying it would ruin the business.
"Do I look like I care about the business?" I'd answered, and my finger had quickly squeezed the trigger, hitting Matthew straight in the chest. He'd taken a few more labored breaths before succumbing to his death.
"Pity," I stoop down, assessing the mess I made. Taking out my cell, I dial Nero, asking him to dispose of the body.
"Chop him up, remove his teeth and burn the prints, then dump him in the river," I tell him before I go to Matthew's bathroom to clean up. It's best if his identity is never confirmed. I don't need more enemies at the moment.
While Nero deals with Matthew's body, I make a quick trip to my car to change my shirt.
Maman is already waiting for me, a svelte blonde dressed in an evening dress standing next to her.
"This is Angelique," maman does the introductions after which we both start towards Hastings' location.
To drive the point home with the importance of the event, I'd hired a limo to take us there.
"Nothing will happen to you, but the moment you hear shots I want you to run. Understand?" I tell Angelique as we park in front of a restaurant.
Holding my arm out for her, we go inside. I spot Hastings and his wife immediately, so we approach them to engage in friendly conversation before slowly enticing them to follow us to the arena.
"It's Quinn's first match, after all," I give them my most charming smile as we get inside the limo, the next destination the arena.
I'm tense as we take our places in the VIP section. My father is already there with his latest mistress, and he seems to be in a jolly mood, his hand lodged between her legs. Shaking my head in disgust, I move next to him, Angelique by my side and Hastings and his wife behind us. I don't want them close to my father in case one of them decides to be magnanimous and spill the truth about Jimenez.
The match soon starts, and so does my timer. Quinn is putting on a good show for the audience, and everyone is riveted by the violence on stage.
Looking at my watch, I keep track of the time. When I see there's a few more minutes until the attack, I lean in and whisper to my father.
"I know what you've done." He freezes, his face still forward.
"What are you talking about?"
"Chiara," I say the one word and his face blanches.
"Don't worry, though. I've gotten used to it." I continue, wanting to give him a false sense of security. His face seems to relax.
"I knew you'd see reason, son. That bitch, Allegra, was in contact with a fed. You know what we do to traitors."
"Indeed," I clench my fist by my side, biding my time. I can't let my anger cloud my judgement, even though the mere fact that he called Allegra bitch is making me see red.
"Besides, it's not as if you cared about her," he scoffs, "you think I don't know how much time you spend at that goddamn brothel," he continues. He doesn't seem to realize that the brothel in question belongs to maman Margot. "She was replaceable and luckily Chiara was kind enough to help us save face."
"Save face, father? Have you seen her? She's fucked half of New York by now." It's ludicrous how hypocritical Rocco can be. It's only right when it serves his purposes. Chiara's his puppet so she can do no wrong.
"Come on, Enzo. You know she only fucks important people," Rocco continues, and I don't know whether to groan at his mercenary mindset or laugh at his stupidity. So he's practically been pimping her?
"I didn't know the gardener was that important. Or her bodyguards. Or even the fucking priest at Martin's funeral. Did you know about that?" I'd thought that maybe she'd had some feelings for Martin, because she'd certainly displayed theatrics worthy of an Oscar at his grave. But after the funeral I'd left her to rest only to find her boning the priest.
Father stutters a little, caught in his own delusion.
I know exactly what happened. He'd thought he could control Chiara and even use her as his personal cum dumpster. But then he hadn't anticipated Chiara's fickle nature, or the fact that she could blackmail his fat ass into submission. I mean, her behavior these past years has been nothing short of indecent, yet Rocco still finds ways to defend her when if it had been anyone else he would have thrown a fit about besmirching the family's honor.
"She's just lonely. You don't give her any attention," I almost laugh in his face.
"I'm sorry if I don't want your second hand pussy father," I roll my eyes at him. "But I'm curious," I continue, wanting to probe just a little more, the watch on my hand telling me I have more time, "what exactly did the Marchesi gain?"
His eyes widen at my question, and he takes a second to reply.
"Control over our Italian businesses," his voice is shaky as he admits this, because by and large, control over Italy is control over Europe.
"Really? You valued your freedom so much that you'd relinquish half your power?" I'd gone through all the documents, but none of them had suggested a merger or even a transfer of power, which means he's been using different sets of proxies to make sure the arrangement stays hidden. Smart, but also stupid. Suddenly it makes sense why our European side has been
losing money.
Fucking Marchesi.
"It was necessary," he huffs out, his face going red from the exertion.
Two more minutes.
"Thank you for enlightening me, father. Now, why don't I tell you some interesting facts too?" My hand grabs on to his pudgy arm, my fingers digging in his fat. "The Gallaghers were never our allies."
Quinn scores a punch on his opponent, and the entire crowd rejoices.
"Do you know who they were working with?" I continue, watching as his eyes widen with realization. "Yes, indeed. Jimenez and... me."
"What..." He stammers, looking as if he'd seen a ghost.
"Ah, I guess you didn't see that coming," I continue, and for once, he seems truly lost. "You were wrong to mess with Allegra, father, but even worse to think I wouldn't be able to tell."
"But... why..."
"Do you know what I promised Jimenez for his help to destroy you?" I ask sarcastically, and he can see where this is going. "Everything you own."
He suddenly tenses, turning to face me, his face full of anger.
"You won't get away with it," he grinds his teeth as he looks at me, a vein popping in his forehead.
This... this is what I wanted to see.
"What if I already did?" The hands of the clock move into alignment, and right at that moment shots start raining down on the crowd. Or, rather, they are focused on our section.
Rocco, in his feeble attempt to escape his death, shoves his mistress in front of a bullet. But he doesn't succeed as the next ones burrow through him, blood spilling everywhere.
Eyes forward, I feel a bullet enter my side, somewhere in my lower abdomen. I blink away the pain, but another bullet hits me in the chest, the force propelling me backwards and making me fall down.
It wasn't supposed to be two bullets...
I can barely move as the blood keeps flowing out of me freely, and a slow haze envelops my brain. I feel Bianca at my side, putting pressure on the wound, and Hastings barking orders in the background, calling 911 — the reason I'd made sure he was here in the first place.
But no matter how much I'm fighting to stay awake, I can't.
Just before I lose it, I utter the only thing that matters.
"Tell... Allegra... love," I can't muster any more strength to finish the sentence, but I hope Bianca understands.
Because if I truly die here today, I want Allegra to know I did love her, and I'll continue to love her.
But then it all fades away.
"YOU WERE LUCKY," THE doctor tells me as he looks over my chart. "The bullets didn't hit any vital organs. It could have been much worse."
Maman is one of my first visitors and she keeps lamenting how bad I looked and how she thought I wouldn't make it. I'd been told Chiara had come to visit, but she hadn't stayed long.
Did she come to make sure I'm dead?
"Qu'est ce que tu as fait, mon fils?" Maman cries out and I wince.
"I'm fine maman," I'm quick to assure her, but as I see her so worried I suddenly get another idea.
Since my plans have all been sabotaged, I'll need an alternative to make the Marchesi pay. I'd gathered from my sources that both Jimenez and his son, Carlos, are dead. His entire organization is dying, and I can already foresee different cartels fighting for supremacy. It won't affect me much, since I've somehow ended up with Martin's money and Jimenez's investments. The only drawback is that I'm stuck with an albeit thriving empire.
As for Marchesi... now that Jimenez can't help me anymore, I'll have to think of something else. And I might have just the thing...
"Maman, I need to make everyone believes I'm worse than I actually am," I tell her, explaining my reasoning.
If the Marchesi think I'm on the verge of death, they'll be quick to come to New York and assert themselves as the de facto rulers of the Agosti family. They'll probably say they are doing so until Luca becomes of age, scheming to kill him before that happens.
The thought only spurs my hate even more, and I ask maman to move into the house with Luca to make sure no one touches him.
Three more to go. Three more to fall. Three more to suffer.
The game has just begun.
PART III
Good things come to those who wait—or linger in a coma for five years. And now it's time to take my pound of flesh.
-From the diary of Allegra
Chapter Twenty-Three
PRESENT DAY,
A SMILE PLAYING AT MY LIPS, I hold tightly on to the pen as I sloppily cross Rocco's name from my list. My movements are still a little strained, but it's to be expected after spending so much time not moving.
"What's got you all happy, Miss?" Lia takes a seat next to me, craning her neck to look at my list.
"Rocco's dead." I tell her. I'd just seen the news article about it, and an inexplicable joy had formed inside of me.
There is justice, after all.
Almost five years. That's how long I've been languishing here, almost rotting on this goddamn bed, and for what? For some greedy bastards to accumulate even more wealth?
My child is almost five, and the last time I saw him he'd been less than a week old. How is any of this fair?
Like an idiot, life had to really drum it into my head until I realized that nothing is fair. What I considered correct is just a pile of crap. The world doesn't revolve around fairness. No, it revolves around power. And those who have it set the standard for fairness.
"Oh my," Lia's hand goes to her mouth, shock enveloping her features.
I refrain from adding that Enzo had been injured as well, since she's been his number one fan from the moment I woke up. It had taken a lot of convincing before she'd agreed to help me pretend I'm still in a coma.
Weak as I still am, I can't afford to give anyone an opening to do more harm. And before I show myself I need to become stronger.
I've already started physical therapy, forcing my body and pushing it to its limits — all so I can put my plan in motion.
I look down at my list again, at the four names still uncrossed. Their hour will come, and this time I won't show mercy.
It's funny how I'd judged Enzo for his ruthless methods, yet the world keeps on proving me that I can't win otherwise. So I'll have to change tactics too.
I'm going to become the most ruthless.
They should have killed me when they had the chance, because now I'm out for blood. I lost almost five years out of my baby's life — five years I'm never getting back. And nothing hurts more than the knowledge that he calls that bitch mamma.
"Can you help me down," I ask Lia, slowly swinging my legs over the bed before lowering myself to the ground. She holds on to my arm as I land on both feet, a little shaky, but keeping myself upright.
"I need to get dressed," I tell her, and she frowns at me.
"But Miss..."
"I need to go to the hospital. See with my own eyes that he's actually dead," I lie to her. What I really want is to see Enzo and the state he's in — who knows, maybe I'll cross a second name today.
"But..." Lia keeps protesting, so I look sharply at her.
"I'm going," I state, my tone a little harsher than intended. She sighs deeply, but she helps me put on some clothes.
I'd taken small trips before, but I hadn't gone too far. It had all been in an attempt to regain some semblance of independence, to feel alive again.
We arrange my outfit in such a way to resemble Lia's. The only way I can go in and out of Sacre Coeur is by pretending to be her.
"You're sure? You know I can't come with you," she continues, a frown marring her features. Since we only have one ID card, only one of us can go out at one time.
"I'll manage." I say as she slides a light jacket over my shoulders.
"Here," she passes me my cane, a phone and some money. "Call me if anything."
"Don't worry, Lia. I'm not the same person I was before," I respond. "I'm not that naïve anymore."
"That's what I'm afraid, Mis
s," she whispers, but I don't mind her as I leave the room, heading for the exit.
Lia's noticed the drastic change in me since I woke up and she's been very vocal about it. She keeps on saying that I should let the bygones be bygones and enjoy my second chance at life.
I say let those bastards say their last prayers because I won't stop until every single name on that list is crossed.
Lia thinks she knows what happened to me, but she has no idea. I still have nightmares about Chiara and what she'd done to me — my own twin bludgeoning me to death.
I'd just put Luca to sleep when she'd come in, her expression disgustingly smug as she'd looked me up and down.
"Still a fat bitch, I see," she'd commented, a vicious smile spreading across her face. I'd tried to be the better person, and I hadn't responded to her taunt.
"What are you doing here, Chiara?" She was the last person I'd ever expect to come congratulate me for my birth.
"What else," she'd taken a few steps inside, looking around, her eyes narrowing on Luca. I'd put myself in front of him, not wanting her to be anywhere near my baby. I'd rather die than have this joke of a human being have anything with my precious little boy. "I wanted to see your brat."
"You've seen. Now you can go."
"Is that how you greet your sister? After I had to marry Franzè because of you. At least you got a hot one. I got one that could barely get his dick up. And even then I barely felt it."
"Don't be crass," my face had twisted in distaste. "I'm surprised Franzè didn't kill you, since we both know you didn't go to your marriage bed a virgin."
Chiara had laughed in my face. "Good thing he liked my ass better than my pussy, but even then it was just like having a finger in..."
"For God's sake, Chiara, is that why you came here?" I'd asked, exasperated.
"No," she'd stopped in front of me, and it was like looking in a mirror. "I came here to give you a little warning. Your little stunt with the feds is going to get you killed."
My eyed had widened in dismay.
"How..."
"How? Imagine my surprise when I was casually strolling through the city and a certain special agent McNaught approaches me, calling me Mrs. Agosti and asking me if I'd reconsidered his offer."
Morally Decadent (Morally Questionable Book 3) Page 31
