Becoming the Street Boss: A Zanetti Famiglia Novel

by Faiman, Hayley

  She reaches for me, her hand cupping my jaw. “You will do it again, Massimo. If there was ever a man who could do what he was determined to do, it’s you. I planned on leaving you tonight, I even have a bag packed, and yet, here I am.”

  My arms tighten around her. “Never,” I rasp. “I wouldn’t let you.”

  She smiles at me sadly, knowing that I probably would if she fought me hard enough… reluctantly.

  “You make me want to stay, Massimo. I don’t know why and I probably should run, but this, with you, it makes me want us to work.”

  “We will,” I state.

  Pippa’s smile is sad, but she tries. It’s obvious she thinks I’m going to fuck up, royally and I have no doubt that I will. But I’m serious when I say that I’m going to truly try with her this time. I want a family, I want her as my wife, and I want the life that we never had the chance to create.

  “Okay,” she sighs before she lays her head down on my shoulder.

  I wrap my arms around her, holding her to my chest, listening to her breathing slow and steady as she falls asleep in my arms. I curse beneath my breath, hating that she’s hooked on wine and painkillers, knowing that part of that is because she’s suffered through her recovery alone.

  Running my fingers through her hair, I stare at the ceiling. It’s darker in here than I remember, shifting my eyes to the side, I blink at the windows. Where once it was open to the view of the city lights and the water of the East River, it’s now covered in black shutters.

  Clenching my jaw, I know the reason why, it’s not just for aesthetic appeal. The hard truth is that fucking guard watched my wife, stalked her and made her feel unsafe for fuck knows how long.

  She rolls over onto her back and I look down at her naked body lying next to me. She’s absolutely stunning, a bit too thin, but still so fucking beautiful. My eyes skirt down until they reach her shoulder.

  I take in the scar from the bullet to her shoulder. It’s red and angry still, not completely healed. Shifting my gaze down, I find the spot that I felt with my hand. Her skin is misshapen with puckering and a dip in the middle that can only be fixed with plastic surgery. Her gut shot.

  Fuck.

  Forcing myself, I move my eyes down to her thigh where I know her third wound is located. It’s the same as her shoulder, just scarred, red and angry.

  The man who did this has not been brought to justice. In fact, nobody knows who did it, he’s never come forward, there hasn’t even been a whisper about who it could be out on the streets.

  I’ve already made a promise to myself to find the fuck and mete out justice. Seeing the evidence of my wife’s body, it’s not just a promise, it is a vow.

  I will find him, if it takes every fucking ounce of my energy and resources, he will be found and I will be torturing the man who dared to touch what’s mine.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  MASSIMO

  Slipping out of bed around four in the morning, I head downstairs toward my office. Pippa changed everything about my house, except my office. Sinking down in my chair, wearing nothing but a pair of boxer briefs, I let out a sigh as I reach for my computer and power it on.

  Spinning in my chair, I look around the room, it feels comfortable—like home. I may have to get used to the rest of the house, and I will, but at least in here it’s the same. It’s comfortable.

  Opening my email, a chill slides up my spine as I remember the email from the unknown address that I received five years ago with attached pictures of me killing the dry cleaner’s wife. Nothing ever became of them, at least not that I know of, since I went to prison shortly after all of that.

  I have thousands of accumulated emails, but I have no doubt that whoever this person is, they’ve sent me more emails. You don’t just send a warning message like that and not back it up with whatever the fuck you want.

  I find the original and do a search for the email address hoping that I’ll be able to find something. I do. It’s sixty-five emails exactly. One each month that I was away, dated on the fifteenth of every month, and an extra one on Christmas day, every fucking year.

  “What the fuck?” I whisper.

  I open one of them in the middle at random and it has a picture attached. It’s a photograph of Pippa and her sister, Rosana. They’re dancing in a club. My breath hitches at the sight.

  I’m instantly angry seeing her in a club, but on the other hand, she’s beautiful. Upon close inspection, I see that she’s with all of the wives, and their guards are surrounding them.

  SEEMS BAD BOYS LIKE BAD GIRLS. I’M GLAD. I’M PRETTY BAD, BABY.

  My eyes widen. It’s a woman. Without paying attention to the time, or even checking to see if he’s still on the payroll, I find my phone and search for my friend in the police department, Officer Brando Riva.

  “Fucking hell, I thought I’d never see this name pop up on my phone again,” his rough voice rasps.

  “I’m out.” I chuckle.

  “I know. Figured you’d take some time off though.”

  “Never,” I grunt.

  There’s a moment of silence, then Brando clears his throat. “You’re calling me, Mass.”

  “Did you ever find out who sent me that email five years ago?”

  “Christ,” he hisses. “I didn’t get far. Whoever it was really wanted to stay hidden, then you went away, and nothing else became of it, became of that night, so I assumed whoever it was got bored.”

  I shake my head as though he can see me. “They didn’t. I have sixty-five emails staring back at me, the latest being just five hours ago. I opened one, and Brando, I think it’s a woman.”

  “A lover?”

  “Only fucked my wife and a whore at one of our houses in probably nine years.”

  “You think it could be her?”

  “I didn’t even know her name until after I was married. I haven’t seen her since the night of my bachelor party.”

  There’s a long moment of silence and I close my eyes, pinching them tightly as I wait for him to speak. “Okay. Forward all that shit to me, every message that they sent you. Shit is much more sophisticated than it was five years ago, plus, I got a guy who will do shit completely under the radar for me. I’m going to have him dig a little. Whoever this is, they’re obviously not going away.”

  “Thanks,” I mumble.

  He chuckles. “It’s good to have you back, Massimo. I missed you, friend.”

  Smiling, I lean my head back as I swing from side to side in my office chair. “Yeah, it’s good to be back, Brando.”

  Ending the call, I forward the emails to him and start to look around for anything else that can be pressing in my inbox. Of course, there’s nothing, there wouldn’t be.

  All of my famiglia contacts knew exactly where I was and what I was doing, they wouldn’t send me shit.

  Going through five years of emails, aside from the sixty-four left from the mystery stalker, is depressing. Nobody sent me anything during the time I was away, not really. There are ads from online shopping, but nothing else to note.

  “Massimo, what are you doing? It’s five in the morning,” Pippa’s voice calls out.

  Spinning around in my chair to face her, I shrug a shoulder as my eyes move up her body. She’s wearing shorts and a tank top, they look like silk or satin from where she is leaning against the doorframe.

  “Working,” I mutter, not wanting to tell her about the mysterious emails.

  She doesn’t need to know that not only that dirty guard was stalking her, but someone that I can’t find has been as well. Seeing how it’s affected her, whether she says the words or not, just with the guard having watched her, I can’t confess the truth that someone else has been watching her this entire time as well.

  “Working?”

  Nodding my head once, I jerk my chin in a silent demand for her to come into the room and over to me. Holding my breath, I watch as she slowly makes her way over to me, stopping just in front of my knees.

  I w
onder if she kept that sexy secretary outfit that she took pictures in all those years ago for me? Then, I decide that if she didn’t, I’m going to have her get another one, because I will fuck her in that outfit, in this office.

  Spreading my legs, I smirk as I tilt my head toward my thigh. I watch as she awards me with a very small smile before she sinks down onto my leg. Placing one hand at her lower back, I wrap the other around her legs and gently grip her hip with my fingers.

  “You weren’t working,” she murmurs.

  I snort, looking up into her eyes. “You caught me. I couldn’t sleep,” I truthfully admit. “I came in here to see if you’d kept it the same, then I decided to check my email.”

  “Email?”

  Sliding my hand up her hip, her waist and then curling my fingers around the side of her neck, I use my thumb and glide it along her jawline. “Didn’t expect me to have email?”

  She smiles softly, her eyes searching mine. “I guess not. Do all of the mafia bosses have email?”

  Laughing, I slide my hand from her jaw to cup the back of her head. Twisting my fingers in her hair, I let out a sigh as my gaze searches hers. Applying pressure to her neck I guide her, she moves willingly, her body shifting closer to mine as her lips hover above mine.

  I wait for her to come to me the rest of the way, to initiate the moment. I feel like a fucking teenager still, the sensation hasn’t gone away since I laid eyes on her in the fucking casino tonight.

  Holding my breath, I only relax when her hesitant lips touch mine. She whimpers, the sound so low that I almost don’t hear it. Her lips fit against mine as if they were made to kiss me. They were, just as she was—made just for fucking me.

  PIPPA

  It’s strange, going from living completely alone for a few years to having someone here again. Even stranger when that man is your husband, your husband of five years. A perfect stranger. He watches me from the kitchen island as I make breakfast.

  We’re both dressed, my body so sore, and yet I like the feeling. Massimo’s phone rings behind me. Glancing over my shoulder, I smile as he brings the device to his ear. He doesn’t say anything as a greeting, and the only thing he does eventually say is just a muffled grunt.

  Sinking my teeth into my bottom lip, I flip the bacon, then move the eggs around in the skillet as I try, unsuccessfully, to eavesdrop on his conversation.

  “That’s what you found? Are you fucking kidding me?” he barks.

  My spine stiffens at the tone of his voice, the anger that he emanates. I try to ignore it and continue cooking, but it’s too much. It’s almost suffocating. Closing my eyes, I inhale deeply before I let it out on a long exhale.

  I want some pills and wine. It would be the only thing that will calm me down at this point. I don’t reach for them though. As much as I want them, I know without a doubt that Massimo would disapprove so I’m either going to have to consume both in secret, or give them up completely.

  Both options feel pretty shitty.

  “Pippa?” Massimo’s voice calls out. My entire body jerks and I look back over my shoulder at him. “You need help?” he asks, his brows furrowed in the middle.

  Shaking my head, I turn back to my food and quickly finish cooking it before I load it up onto plates.

  Taking the plates of bacon and eggs to the table, I grab the bowl of fruit that I cut up earlier from the fridge, then remove the pan from the oven that has warm brown buttery biscuits ready to eat on it.

  “Do you want juice, milk?” I ask as I make my way back into the kitchen from setting the biscuits down on the table.

  “Coffee,” Massimo grunts.

  Reaching for the pot, I pour him a cup, then one for myself. Carrying the mugs into the breakfast room, I pause at the sight before me.

  Massimo is just sitting at the table, but it’s a sight that I dreamt about for years. One that I never thought would actually exist, yet here it is. He’s there, is face is tilted up, his eyes on me and there is a small smile playing on his lips. His eyes aren’t smiling, though I’m not surprised, I doubt that mine do either.

  Gently setting his coffee mug in front of his plate, I sink down in my seat across from him before I put my own mug down. I can feel his gaze on me as I stare at my empty plate. Slowly, I lift my eyes to meet his.

  He doesn’t say anything right away, his eyes just searching mine, looking for something, but I’m not sure what. He nods once as if he sees it, as though he finds exactly what he’s looking for.

  “What?” I ask.

  He shrugs a shoulder before he starts to load his plate up with food. I watch him, surprised by how much he put on his plate, but happy to see him do it all at the same time. Reaching for the food, I put some fruit and eggs on my own.

  Massimo picks up his fork and shoves a huge chunk of scrambled egg into his mouth. I pick around my plate, feeling nervous, too nervous. I shouldn’t be.

  We’ve had sex twice and it was fantastic both last night and this morning. He’s here, and he seems to want to be here, something that I wasn’t sure would happen.

  Massimo grunts, my eyes lift to his and I wait for him to speak. He doesn’t say a word. What he does is reach for a biscuit and tosses it across the table. I watch as it lands on my plate, he grabs four slices of bacon and does the same.

  Frowning, I look down at my plate, then lift my eyes to meet his. “You’re too thin. I’m fixing that. You need carbs.”

  “Massimo, I don’t,” I try to argue, but he cuts me off with a glare.

  “You know I like to fuck, hard, Pippa. I can’t do that when I’m afraid I’m going to snap your fucking bones in half. Besides, you can’t carry a healthy baby being so small, yeah?”

  “Oh, and you’re an expert on women’s health?” I snap.

  His lips curl up into a smile, one that if I’m not mistaken almost reaches his eyes. “No. I never claimed to be that. I do know that women aren’t meant to be so small that you see every fucking bone, yeah?”

  “What if I’m naturally this way?”

  He shakes his head. “Except I know that you aren’t, dolcezza. If you were, that’d be a different story. But I know you aren’t, this is all your own doing and whatever you need to rectify it, I’ll give you. Rehab? Counseling? Whatever it is, I want you healthy, I want us healthy.”

  My heart actually bursts a little at his words. I should probably be offended by them, but I’m not, not at all. They’re as beautiful as he is, in his own way.

  I know they aren’t meant to be cruel. They come from a good place and I admitted my addiction to pills and wine, he knows that I’ve been struggling.

  “Okay, Massimo,” I whisper.

  He arches a brow, unsure as to what I’m agreeing to, I’m sure. I don’t say another word, instead I reach for the buttery biscuit and bring it to my lips. It tastes like heaven. It’s so good, I eat two.

  Then I eat everything else on my plate and by the time I’m finished, I’m so full that I’m practically sick, but admittedly, I haven’t felt this happy since Rosana lived with me.

  Maybe Massimo just needed to come home. Maybe all of our personal drama will be done and over with now that he’s right where he has always belonged.

  Now that he’s home.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  MASSIMO

  I need to meet with Brando alone, but I don’t want to leave Pippa. The only alternative I have is to have Brando meet me at the casino and have Arlo call her into work. I offer to clean up breakfast but she shoos me away. Making my way outside on the small deck, I tug my phone out of my pocket and find Arlo’s name in my contacts.

  “How are you moving around? I figured you’d stay in bed all day with your pretty wife,” he says.

  Chuckling, I lean over the banister and stare out at a view that I honestly didn’t think I’d ever see again. I figured I would be done, every day that passed felt like a lifetime and my dreams and desires just kind of faded away.

  “Got a problem. I need to meet with
my police contact, but I don’t want to leave Pippa alone.”

  “Does this involve her?” he asks, immediately guessing what this is most likely about.

  There’s a moment of silence. I think about ignoring him, maybe shifting his question to something else, but I don’t. He’s been right beside her for the past several years. He gave her purpose and I know that without him, she probably would have been completely lost not just from me, but from herself too.

  “It does. Something that started before I left, something that Brando thinks he could have finally tracked down. Something that involves the famiglia, too.”

  “Fuck,” he hisses.

  I snort. “That’s the long and short of it.”

  “I’ve got plenty for her to do at the casino. Go ahead and bring her in with you, I want in on this meeting with Brando though.”

  Part of me wants to tell him to fuck off, the other part is thankful, grateful even, that he gave Pippa something in her life. If it was up to me, I wouldn’t have let her work for him, but I am man enough to admit that it was a good move—even if I only admit it to myself.

  “You’re in, Arlo. One hour, yeah?”

  “I’ll be there.” I hear the door from the house open just as I end the call and shove my phone in my pocket.

  Staying where I am, I let Pippa come to me. She doesn’t touch me as she approaches my side. I wait for her to lift her hand, to brush it against my arm or anywhere else against my body, but she doesn’t.

  “We need to go to the casino. I have to talk to Arlo, he said you could do some office work if you wanted while we meet.”

  I hear her clear her throat. Turning my head, I tilt my chin down and look into her blue eyes. Grazie a Dio they’re a bit brighter than they were just yesterday. If I keep up this pace in a matter of days, they’ll be back to the way I remembered them the day I took her to be my wife.