It never ceases to amaze me that it doesn’t matter the size of man – one knock to their manhood and they’re down crying like a baby. It’s a fucking glorious sight every damn time.
As he lies on the floor, cupping his manhood, I take full advantage. Even with Zane not letting Roscoe win, I don’t step down and talk the situation into a calm; I just react to it – as I always do. While he’s weakened, I take my chance to leap into action. I use the toe of my shoe to kick him hard in the side and cause him to roll onto his back. He looks up at me with watering eyes, and I take a step forward, only to set one foot beside his arm while the other I push down onto his throat, the heel crushing his windpipe a little.
“You know what I’m capable of, right?” I ask, leering down at him. He nods awkwardly, grimacing still and I laugh, removing the cigarette from my lips to speak clearer. “Then you should know that no animal touches me and gets away with it.” I snatch my foot away, leaning over him to grab the four small boxes of cigars. “If these aren’t perfect, I’ll be back,” I warn and flick the cigarette away from me and deliberately aim for the sheets in the corner.
They made this awkward for me; I’ll make this awkward for them.
Leaving the side room, the gold wrapped cigar boxes clutched at my side, I come out to find Zane pummeling Roscoe’s face. I can see from the split lip and reddening eye that Roscoe did get a few swings in at Zane.
“Zane!” I call out, but all I seem to cause is a distraction to force Roscoe to get the upper hand. “Get off him! We have what we wanted.”
Apparently, my demand goes unheeded, so I pull the gun from my back, point it up at the ceiling, and fire it. The resonating gunshot sends an echo around the shell of the warehouse, causing birds to fly away and forces the two men apart.
“Get up,” I say, pointing the gun deliberately at Roscoe. “This part of the deal is done.” I wait for Zane to get up, his suit now dirtied, before I even begin to turn, but as I do so, I notice that there’s fire now igniting in the room where Lurch is just leaving. I hasten myself to leave and I just hope to God Zane is behind me.
“Are you crazy?” he asks, catching me up, clearly not acknowledging the fire I started.
“Not one hundred percent,” I comment, giving him a smile, but I see it doesn’t change the look on his face. “Be happy I didn’t need to use the gun on someone,” I deadpan but see that doesn’t help matters.
We barely get started on the matter when part of the warehouse blows out; we both duck, covering our heads, and Zane instinctively moves over to cover me. We stand up straight and look back at the billowing smoke and lashings of fire that propel from the building. I look at Zane and smile innocently, but it causes his expression to become even more aghast with horror than ever.
“You’re an actual psychopath, Amelia!” he shouts over the roaring blaze, getting the car keys out of his pocket.
“Why, thank you!” I say jokingly as we run for the car. “But we can discuss my psychopathic tendencies later. For now, we need to get out of here before the police get here.”
***
I step out of my room and hear the gentle hubbub of men talking. I realize now they’re all waiting in the foyer for me, as I’m the one running fashionably late. Clasping onto my clutch bag, I roll my shoulders and prepare to head down. My father wasn’t ecstatic over the spectacle I created in picking up that lousy package, but we didn’t get time to talk as we realized we all had to get ready.
I expected my neck on the chopping block and a publicized slaughter, but Enzo broke the moment up and gave me time to work up what I need to say without really ramming my foot into my mouth.
I still just at the top of stairs, suspended from going down to them just yet. With my bag under my arm, I run my hands down the white satin of my form fitting skirt and strive for oxygen. I feel like I’m about to make some grand entrance and, for once, I don’t want all eyes on me. Closing my eyes, I take a clean breath to calm my nerves and exhale to rid myself of them. I open my eyes and find that Enzo has clocked me already and is watching me expectantly. I give a little grin, finding an ounce of confidence to begin to walk down the stairs, and as I do so, Zane catches sight of me and looks up; his eyes swell with what I can only assume is awe and his mouth begins to hang open. One by one, the men of the house turn to look; even Lorenzo can’t help but stare. It’s unsettling, but after the wreckage I’ve left in my wake, my appearance means everything to calm my side of the mess the Dio Lavoro is becoming.
“Pick your jaws up, we have a party to attend,” I state as I stop on the bottom step.
“Took you long enough,” Giovanni grumbles and heads for the door. He’s becoming more like a bear with a sore head every day and it’s driving me insane.
“We’ll meet you in the car, Bambina,” my father comments, his voice sickly sweet toward me.