Femme Fatale Reloaded (Pericolo #2)

“What?” he asks, clearly thinking I’m mocking him.

“It’s nothing,” I say, still chuckling at this little spin on our reality. “I always thought I had to look after you, but you’ve pretty much done that for me tonight. Given me total clarity.”

“I have you to thank for that, Lia,” he comments, leaning in toward me. “You’ve protected me from a lot. You’ve kept me alive and safe in this hell and proven you would do anything to give me a full life. Sometimes you just need a reminder that we’re here to do the same for you, too.” He then sits back, parting our bodies. “Even Zane.”

I give him a pointed look, telling him silently that he’s not playing fair.

“Don’t hate,” he tells me, frowning. He stands up. “I just think that the real reason Zane is here isn’t to become one of us, but more to get you out.”

“You, baby brother, are a dreamer.”

“Someone’s got to be,” he says and starts to leave the room. “You used to be, too.”

With that, he’s gone. I fall back on my bed and wonder if he’s right – am I that out of touch with my old self that I’ve forgotten what it is to dream? Before I left for Italy, I thought the world was my oyster and I could cut loose and run. I walked around with my heart on my sleeve just at having Zane back in my life. It was because of the heaven he wrapped me in that I saw a future, a hope, some semblance of a new life. When he tore it away, he tore more of me than I could ever fathom.

When life settles down, I might give in to that feeling again. But for now, with the minefield we live in, I would rather wait for the dust to settle so I can set my gaze on what I truly want.

I’ll wait for the calm before I dare to dream.





CHAPTER TWELVE


I watch from the doorway, my disgust magnifying.

Giovanni is hunched over himself, a bill rolled up, making it easier for him to snort the blurred line of cocaine. The greedy fucker snorts one line and immediately takes a second before standing up, sniffing harder while he wipes his nose. He turns to see me watching with utmost revulsion at his newest stint, and he just leers at me, grinning like a fool.

“Thought you gave that up?” I ask him, my arms folding over my chest.

“There’s nothing better than getting through this fucked-up life than a little bit of coke, sis,” he quips, chortling as he stumbles to me.

I take in the goofy grin he’s gotten, the drugs clearly loosening him up, and I watch as his pupils dilate. I’m sickened that he’s stupid enough to think snorting a fucking drug will make this life a better one. When the high ends, he’ll be back where he was – unneeded, almost forgotten, and still a sociopath.

“You should do some. It wouldn’t make you not so fucking uptight,” Giovanni comments, tossing his head over to the gang who are snorting away their evening.

“I don’t need drugs to enjoy my life,” I remark, snarling my words hatefully at him.

He laughs hard at my comment. “Amelia, you’re not fucking enjoying this life. I can see it every day. You hate it as much as you hate Papà and me. But not as much as you hate Zane being here.”

“Leave him out of this,” I say, and turn to leave. I am not about to listen to some riot act that Giovanni Abbiati thinks needs to be heard.

“No,” Giovanni snaps, grabbing onto me, “that man is ruining everything. Papà finally had you back after hearing just how ruthless you had become, but you’re still just a woman in love, Amelia. Zane could mutilate you and you’d still love him.”

“You know nothing.”

I decide to make my leave after that lie. Talking with the devil’s advocate will only ever land me in more bother than I’m already creating for myself. Giovanni can see right through me, I know he can, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to stand around and find out just how much he can.

I drift around the party – the one to celebrate the Dio Lavoro – and find myself overlooked for once. No one stares at me with fear, nor do they make way for me. No more am I cowered to or treated like I’m above them, and I love the sensation it fills me with. My freedom is just on the cusp of happening, and it’s proven in the way that people now treat me. I’m the fallen angel, and I have to admit, I fucking love it.

I come to the main room and find my father surrounded by adoring fans, Zane stood beside Enzo and Carlo with Manuel hiding in the background. My father looks happy as he stands adored and honored. When his gaze settles upon mine, I know I have to react. Dutifully, I take the adequate steps forward to stand among my father and brothers.

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