Becoming the Street Boss: A Zanetti Famiglia Novel

by Faiman, Hayley

  “He wants a divorce, right?”

  Renzo growls, but Salvatore lifts his hand. “On paper, for now. It doesn’t take away your protection, or the assets that he’s giving you. He wants you to have your freedom though, Pippa. He knows that’s important to you and he doesn’t want to force you into a life of solitude because he’s in prison.”

  “That’s a bullshit cop-out,” I snap. Renzo chuckles, but I narrow my eyes on him. “You can tell him that I refuse to sign that shit until he asks me in person.”

  “Pippa, he wants this, he won’t like that message.”

  Standing, I lift my hand and extend my finger toward him. “Fuck you, Sal. Fuck him, too. You can tell him I said that shit. He can ask me himself, in fucking person if he wants a goddamn fucking divorce,” I shout before I turn and stomp away, heading upstairs.

  “That’s a lot of fucks for a wife,” Salvatore mumbles as I walk away.

  “Stick around, I’m good and pissed off, Sal. I may say fuck about fifteen more fucking times,” I scream before I continue to stomp up the stairs, ignoring their low laughter.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  MASSIMO

  “Fuck,” I hiss.

  Sal chuckles. “That about sums it up, your moglie is good and pissed the fuck off, cugino.”

  Closing my eyes, I let my forehead rest against the wall and let out a sigh. She can be good and pissed off all she wants. It doesn’t change that I want a divorce. That I need a divorce. Pressing my lips together, I shake my head before I open my eyes.

  “Doesn’t matter. It’s happening,” I grunt.

  “She wants to see you, talk to you herself,” he murmurs.

  “No.”

  Salvatore stays silent for a moment, then clears his throat. “She has a right, don’t you think? She is your wife, Massimo.”

  “Fine. I’ll put her on the list for my next visitation. But you can tell her that it’s the fucking end. One time and one time only. I want that shit signed and done after I meet with her.”

  “Why the hell are you doing this, Massimo? This all seems really rash. We got her protected, you made sure she was set monetarily, Renzo is staying with her for a while until we know for sure there isn’t any kind of threat. She’s solid, cugino. Talk to me.”

  I debate telling him everything that’s going through my head, but ultimately, I decide against it. I’ve already said my piece. He knows the reason I want to let Pippa go, at least part of the reason.

  My second reason for letting her go is a bit more complicated. She never wanted a Made Man. She felt as though she had no choice. It was either marry me, sell her body, or be homeless.

  I’m giving her that freedom back, the one that I know she wanted so damn badly. I’m not going to force her to stay married to a man that can’t be with her, one that she never really wanted in the first place.

  “Tell her she can come to the next visitation day,” I grunt, then slam the phone down, hanging up on him.

  Turning my back to the phone, I make my way over to the guard. Jerking my chin toward him, I look down my nose and wait for directions. He guides me toward my cell with a grunt. Stepping inside, I let out a breath and walk over to my bed. Sinking down on the edge, I lift my arms and put my elbows on my thighs before I bury my face in my hands.

  * * *

  TWO WEEKS LATER

  Today is the day. I shouldn’t have allowed this. Sliding my hand down the front of my shirt, I make sure that it’s tucked in neatly and that my buttons are straight down the middle of my chest.

  Lifting my hand, I slide my palm along the side of my head to ensure that I don’t have any stray hairs. Stepping up to the officer at the door, I wait as he snorts over at me.

  “Someone coming to see you today, Ferrucci?”

  “My wife,” I rasp.

  He lets out a low laugh. “That should be interesting. Don’t know how you gangsters keep a fucking woman. You’re fucking filth, she must be too,” he hisses.

  Jerking my chin up to him, I think about ignoring his words, but I can’t. He talked about my fucking wife, called her filth.

  “It’s our big cocks.” I smirk. “Women know what matters in life. Money and big dicks. Too bad you don’t have either.”

  Without another word, I take a step toward the door and the guard on the other side when the one behind me calls out to me. I shouldn’t turn around to look at him, but I do. Looking over my shoulder, right outside the door, I wait for him to speak.

  “Sucks she’ll be on her knees for men like me while you’re locked up in here stroking your big dick with your hand.”

  I growl before I start to turn around, but the guard to my side reaches out and wraps his fingers around my shoulder giving me a hard squeeze.

  “He’s not worth it, friend,” he whispers.

  My head jerks from his emphasis on the word friend. Widening my eyes, I arch a brow and his lips twitch into a small smirk. He lifts his chin toward the visitation room and shifts his gaze, no longer looking at me, but instead at the room in front of him.

  I can’t look away from him. A cop, in a prison—on our side? Impossible. Wouldn’t I have known something about that?

  “She’s beautiful, Ferrucci. Better get over there before someone decides to snatch her up for themselves. We’ll be in contact.”

  My head whips over to the room and I see Pippa. She’s sitting at a table all by herself. Her head is dipped down and she’s looking at her hands which are on the table, her fingers twisting with nervousness.

  Clearing my throat, I take one step toward her, then another. She must sense me, or someone approaching her. I watch as she lifts her head. Those blue eyes that I’ve felt for three years meet mine and my heart stops momentarily in my chest.

  “Dolcezza,” I rasp hoarsely as soon as I’m close enough for just her to hear me.

  “Massimo,” she whispers.

  She doesn’t stand, her face is pale, but at least she looks like she’s been sleeping. She drops her face to look down at her hands again, obviously sadness is etched over her entire being. She doesn’t look the way she did almost two months ago though, she doesn’t look nearly so gaunt and exhausted.

  I’ll take that.

  Sitting down across from her, I place my hands on the table the way I’m supposed to. If this is going to be the last time that I see her, I don’t want it to be stolen from me.

  “You wanted to talk?” I ask after waiting for a few moments.

  Pippa clears her throat, lifting her face to meet mine again. “Why?”

  “Why?”

  She tilts her head to the side, obviously deciding not to expand on her question. I could force her to explain what she means, but I don’t need to. I know exactly what she wants to know.

  “You’re twenty. You never wanted a Made Man and this is one of the reasons why. It’s the right thing to do. I’m trying to be the good guy here, Pippa.”

  She snorts. “For who? Yourself? Does it make you feel good to hand me cash and pretend I meant absolutely nothing to you? Is that what you think I want?”

  My head jerks. “Is that what you think?”

  She crosses her hands under her chest, pushing her perfect tits out. “It’s what I know, Massimo. It’s painfully obvious. The money is to assuage your guilt. I’m young, but I’m not stupid.”

  Shaking my head, my eyes find hers. Maybe she’s right. Fuck, she probably is. It does make me feel good to give her the freedom she deserves. Though, all good deeds are meant to make you feel good, aren’t they?

  “What do you want from me? I’m here for five fucking years, dolcezza.”

  Pippa presses her lips together, shaking her head once. “Nothing, Massimo. I want nothing.”

  She stands to her feet and I try not to look at her tits, the way her skirt and blouse hug her body like a second skin. She’s covered everywhere she’s required to be covered, but she looks fucking perfect.

  “Pippa,” I murmur.

  She leans o
ver slightly, her eyes focused on mine and nowhere else. “I’m not granting you a divorce. I refuse to make it easy on you, to make you feel good about yourself. You don’t get to take me, own me, make me need you and crave you, make me fall in love with you, and then just walk away. I fucking refuse,” she hisses.

  Without another word, she turns on her sky-high heels and walks away from me. I watch her, my eyes focused on her perfect ass. She disappears and I curse myself. She’s not going to accept my divorce and I can’t deny that I like that.

  My wife is a fighter.

  Maybe, just maybe, I’ve misjudged her? Time will only tell. Five years is a fuckuva long time for her to wait for me. She won’t be the same girl when I get out and I definitely will not be the same man.

  We may be doomed, but if she wants to fight, then she can be celibate for five years, who the fuck am I to say otherwise?

  PIPPA

  The days pass by in a blur. It’s visitation day again at the prison, but I’m not going. Not because I don’t want to go to see my husband, but because the asshole has taken me off of his approved list. Gavino is allowed, Arlo, Salvatore, and even goddamn Luca, but not me.

  Maybe I should be thankful or grateful that he withdrew the divorce papers. Salvatore ripped them up right in front of me after I visited Massimo two weeks ago. I’m not sure what I feel about any of it. Not a fucking thing.

  A knock on the door causes me to practically jump out of my skin. I was completely lost inside of my own head. Turning back to look over my shoulder, I call out to Renzo to come inside. He won’t.

  He never does.

  This is my bedroom with Massimo, another man shouldn’t ever enter this space. The only time he has come in was to lay me down in bed from a crying jag.

  “Yeah?” I ask.

  “Your sister is here. Least that’s who she says she is. Little slip of a thing, your hair and eyes?”

  My eyes widen. “Rosana?” I breathe. “How?”

  He chuckles, shaking his head. “No clue. She’s in the living room, a little shaken.”

  “My fucking aunt,” I growl as my feet speed toward him. He wraps his hands around my shoulders, stopping me from sprinting down the stairs.

  “Calm, girl,” he rasps.

  Tilting my head back, I look into his eyes. “Fuck, calm,” I snap.

  His lips turn up and I see a peek of his straight white teeth beneath his beard. “I’ll miss you, Pippa.”

  “Fuck that, too.”

  He throws back his head in laughter, the sound booming through the room. When he straightens, he looks into my eyes, and my breath hitches at the sight. His eyes are smiling. For the first time in almost two months, his eyes are smiling.

  Lifting my hand, I cup his cheek with my palm, feeling his soft beard beneath my touch. “You’re smiling,” I breathe.

  He licks his lips, his eyes searching mine. “It’s easy to do around you, girl.”

  “I wish that Massimo thought the same.”

  He hums, shaking his head, then lifts his hand and curls his fingers around my wrist. “Don’t do that, Pippa. You didn’t have time to break down his walls, not like with me. Plus, he’s got them built up with you for other reasons too.”

  “Like, what?”

  Renzo releases my wrist and takes a step back, then stands to the side. He chuckles, his eyes searching my confused face.

  “Like the fact that he probably fell in love with you instantly and men like us don’t fall in love. We’re told to never have vulnerabilities. If he shows any of his feelings, if he makes it known that you mean something to him, it makes you a target.”

  “That’s stupid,” I exhale.

  Renzo shrugs one shoulder, his eyes searching mine. “Yeah, it is. But that’s the way it goes, Pippa. This is the famiglia. This is not the regular world with the regular rules.”

  “Yeah.” I nod. “It’s pretty fucking stupid and I know it’s bullshit because Arlo, Gavino, and Luca clearly adore their wives.”

  He snorts. “Yeah, now. Before…” His words trail off. “Goddamn replicas to Massimo. Give it time, girl.”

  I shake my head, letting out a small laugh. “Seems I have five years,” I whisper.

  He nods his head once. “Your little sister is still down there.”

  Without another word, I spin around and run downstairs to see just what the fuck my aunt did to Rosana to make her come here this way.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  PIPPA

  Rosana looks up at me through wet lashes. Her face is tear-stained, the mascara she once had on her lashes is now all beneath her eyes like dark bruises. She’s thinner than she was the last time that I saw her too.

  “Rosana?” I ask. “Sana? What is going on?” I hurry toward her, sliding into the seat next to hers and immediately wrapping my arms around her.

  Without a word, she buries her face in my neck and whimpers. “Aunt Irene, she told me that I was a burden,” she cries. She lifts her face from my neck, her lips trembling as she looks me in the eye. “She just started ranting that the money was gone. I didn’t know what she was talking about. Then she told me to get out of her sight, that I was nothing but a burden.”

  I hear Renzo’s grunt somewhere behind me, but I can’t look back at him, I’m too focused on Rosana. She’s heartbroken, completely and totally. I don’t blame her, I felt the same way when my aunt started treating me worse than normal, when she forced me out of her house.

  “You’re staying here now. I won’t allow you to go back. I have a guest room and I’m all alone.”

  Her gaze flicks behind me, her face turning pink. “You’re not alone,” she whispers.

  Looking back over my shoulder I see Renzo is smirking and then he winks. Rolling my eyes, I turn back to Rosana. “Renzo is leaving in a couple of days. I’ll be alone, and this is where you belong anyway.”

  “No. I don’t belong anywhere.”

  Shaking my head, I wrap my hands around her neck and keep her face forward. “Never say that, not ever again. You belong with your family. I am your family. Irene is a bitch.”

  “What about Massimo?”

  “What about him?”

  “Won’t he be upset when he comes back and I’m here?”

  I let out a small laugh. “Never. He always said you could stay here if you ever needed to. Besides, by the time he’s back, you’ll be off to college. He would probably like you here with me anyway. It’ll be fun, Sana. You and me? Together.”

  “It would, wouldn’t it?” she breathes.

  Nodding my head, I touch my forehead against her own. “This is where you belong,” I whisper. “This is where you’ll stay. She’s going to have to fight me for you and I’m not going to let her win. I have a hell of a lot more money than she does and a whole lot of badass at my back.”

  Renzo chuckles behind me at the same time Rosana giggles. “How about I order you girls some pizzas, yeah?”

  Sana looks up, at the same time I turn my head to look back over my shoulder at Renzo. “No cheese, extra pepperoni and olives?” we both ask at the same time.

  “Fuck, you both like that shit?” he barks.

  “They always put too much cheese,” we say in unison.

  Renzo lifts his hand, giving us a wave as he takes his phone out of his pocket and heads toward the kitchen. I hear his voice in a low rumbled murmur as he places the order before I turn back to face Rosana.

  Leaning back against the sofa, I wrap my arm around Rosana’s shoulders and we both tilt our heads back to look up at the ceiling.

  “Aunt Irene is a total bitch,” Rosana whispers.

  “Yeah,” I agree. “But now you’re here with me.”

  “Yeah.”

  We stay on the sofa, just staring at the ceiling until the front doorbell rings and Renzo announces that the pizzas have arrived. The rest of the evening, we spend eating pizza, I drink wine, Rosana drinks Sprite, and we laugh.

  It’s one of the best nights of my life, but my eyes
keep drifting over to Massimo’s empty chair. Then my thoughts go back to him, to the way we were for those few beautiful days before he left me. My heart aches just thinking about him, missing him.

  Later that night, I lie in bed, Rosana next to me until Renzo moves out and she can claim his room. I could put her in the second guest bedroom, but it’s right next to Renzo’s room and I just don’t think she’d be comfortable all alone up there next to him.

  I don’t speak and neither does she, not for a while. “Did you love him, your Massimo?” Rosana asks.

  “How can you love someone after only a week of being together?”

  She hums. “I think you could. He’s hot too,” she says before she lets out a giggle.

  Turning to face her, I lay on my side, tucking my hands beneath my cheek. “He is beautiful, but he’s damaged,” I whisper.

  “We’re all damaged, Pip.”

  “Yeah,” I agree. “We are, aren’t we.”

  “Totally. I still can’t believe you’re married to a Made Man and living in this badass house.”

  Smiling, I pinch my eyes closed. I know that she can’t see me, but I wish that she could see the pained expression on my face. If she could, she would know that this isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Married for less than a week and having your husband thrown into prison, then him asking you for a divorce and not allowing you to visit him. It’s a nightmare.

  “What you see on the outside, it’s not a true representation of the reality, Rosana.”

  “I know, Pip. I saw Bellarosa, and I know that you’re owned by Massimo. I also know that most Made Men are trash. I don’t think he is one of them though. I don’t think his closest guys are either. The way they looked at their wives at your wedding, the way they watched them. The way Massimo looked and watched you.”

  “How was that?” I snap.