“You ruined your chance to keep that, remember?” I ask him back. I know what we had was magnificent, but shards of bitterness still remain buried deep and that’s the problem with his actions – not all scars are on the surface. Zane’s are crisscrossed all over my heart. They penetrate deep and remind me to save a little piece of me just in case.
“I know,” he mutters unhappily. “But that was worth it, right?” he asks me as I sit, him still buried deep within me. “That was worth caving to. I dare you to tell me otherwise, Amelia. Tell me this was worth it.”
I falter and fall against his chest, wasted on lust. “It was completely worth it.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Enzo was waiting for me when I finally got home.
I messaged him after Zane took me back to my car at the golfing range to let him know I was finally ready to come home. By then it was well past one AM, and I finally felt able to face my home after almost twenty-four hours away from it. It took delaying a late dinner and another midnight romp with Zane, but I finally had courage.
I try to mend my hair as I rush up the drive toward my eldest brother. He’s fixed me with an all-knowing look, and I just blush and look down. He starts to chuckle at me, but it’s drowned out by the thunderous boom of my father’s voice. It stops me dead in my tracks and I gulp. Looking up at Enzo, he gives me a reassuring smile.
“Don’t worry,” he comments, putting his arm around me as he guides me into the house. “You can deal with him. Last night was a blip that he now regrets. He’s been going ballistic that he couldn’t find you.”
“How angry is his?” I ask warily and wonder if that’s a question I should allow myself insight for.
“I’ve been watching his face get redder for the past hour or so,” Enzo jokes and gives my shoulder a squeeze. “Just stick with me. He knows exactly how I feel on the matter. I won’t be backing down if I think he’s beating you down.”
Knowing that Enzo is a solid ally on my side, I feel myself ease a tiny bit. Nothing could steal my nerves away on the walk to see my father for the first time since his malicious degradation from last night. I hate him for how small and unimportant he made me feel. I hate him for making me feel like he would even dare think to traffic his own kind because of one argument. A pit forms in my stomach and only loathing palpates from within. I loathe this man, but hate myself for not being able to break away.
Years of scare tactics has me overanalyzing a safe escape. My differing scenarios of running free are clouded by the murderous moments created by my father. His actions have all rendered me this twisted monster that has an intermittent conscience. While at times I feel for the men I kill, mostly. I feel most for myself and what will happen to me – and, consequently, them – if I don’t comply. I will kill, and I will follow my own motto to the extent that every dead body I leave behind, I leave a part of my humanity latched onto it. A piece of my soul blackens far more with just knowing I can breathe and live in peace for another day because I have done my part in the Dio Lavoro.
“Ahh, the prodigal Abbiati princess finally comes back,” Giovanni announces. His sarcasm laces my welcome home, and I roll my eyes. “You’re actually more pathetic after last night’s fun and games than I ever thought you would be.”
I ignore my brother, reining in my sharp tongue and repressing the witty comeback wanting to burst back at him. Instead, I focus on my father who stands with his back to me. From his stance, I can see that he is far from being a happy man. The anger radiates from him while he shakes with pure fury. I dread to think what I will be met with once he turns, seeing as I’m reduced to such a fearful state by just his back.
The silence now, ironically, resounding from him is deafening.
“So, we are good enough for you to come home to now?” My father’s voice carries small and low as he turns around. “Now you decide to come back home because you’re over your temper tantrum.”
His comments force me to laugh involuntarily. He has to be fucking kidding me right about now. I am moments away from full hysterics when Enzo nudges me to remind me to keep my cool. Shaking my head, I allow my laughter to die and fuel me.
“That’s a grand response,” I observe and resist every urge to clap my hands at him for added derision. “You really are in the running for father of the year, Papà.” I watch his jaw begin to pulsate as he clenches his jaw together in manifesting disdain to my sudden rush of confidence. “Don’t get angry again, we know what sleazy tactics you now lower yourself to!” I watch as my words only fuel the hate firing in his eyes. The flickers of aggression lick at his pupils, dilating them further. “Going to try and sell me again?” I ask, daring to look the devil straight in the eyes.