I pull out another bottle of champagne and muse to myself – everyone lives like a God in this world. My father – and people like him – throw money at those who work for them and everyone lives merrily and stinking rich. I twist around on my heels and find Marius right behind me. I jump back alarmed and find the champagne bottle pressed to my chest.
“I’m willing to make you forget about Maverick,” he comments and steps closer, forcing me to take a step back. I carry on until I’m pushed against the fridge, my back hard pressed, my hand gripping the bottle tighter and tighter. “He can be just a distant memory.”
“Sorry to burst your bubble, Marius,” I begin to comment, my eyes narrowing slightly as I look at him with utmost anger. “You killed the man I love on my birthday. I can’t just forget that little treasure. You have to do more for forgiveness than some turned-on bullshit and sweet talk, Coglione.”
“Don’t speak Italian to me, Amelia, it makes me hard.” I watch as his eyes begin to flicker across my face. They roam from my lips, to my eyes, and back again. He’s absorbing the sight of me, and I let him as I just continue looking straight at him. “It feels like I’ve waited a lifetime for this.” He leans in, his lips hitting that weak spot on my neck once more.
“You’re going to be waiting a little longer, buddy,” I tell him, resisting his urges. “You don’t get me just for killing a man. Now, drink up,” I direct him as I push him away from me. I hold the large bottle of Bollinger up. “This bottle’s coming up with us,” I smirk, waggling my eyebrows as I bypass him. I only look back to point to his glass. “I want that gone before I reach the bottom of the stairs.”
He adheres promptly, and I smile more as he downs the glass of juice and alcohol in one. By the time he catches up, I’m only up three steps up the stairs, but I don’t slow, I continue to walk them in silence, waiting to hear the warning signs that the poison’s working superbly. When I make it to the landing, I deliberately twirl around and see Marius beginning to struggle with each step.
“Amelia?” he chokes as we make it to the top of the stairs. He’s clawing at his throat, a sure sign the venom in his system is doing its job. It’s lacing and dancing around his veins, claiming him as its victim in delicious beauty. It’s attacking every blood cell, antibody, piece of tissue, sliver of muscle in his body and causing him to hemorrhage from the inside out. Or that’s the idea. Giovanni’s detailed explanation once was enough to sicken me, but this new cocktail clearly drives the inward effects outwards.
As he stumbles forward, he’s parallel with the bedroom, and I move. He looks into the room, obviously seeing his friend before he collapses. As his body begins to writhe, the poison invading every recess of his body, I watch and wait for that pang of guilt to hit me. It doesn’t. I used to have admiration for this man, used to love watching him wander around my house, but as soon as I heard what he had done, all those feelings disintegrated into absolute fucking nothingness. I approach him, crouching down beside him. He looks up at me, his eyes bleeding out, while his gaze pleads with me for an explanation.
“The loser has to die,” I tell him just as the life leaves his body for good.
The new mix Giovanni’s created leaves their victims a bloodied mess. I’m saved from leaving my trademark on Marius. There isn’t a part of him that isn’t smeared in his own blood. Marius was once such a handsome, charismatic man. Now he’s just like the rest – one of my victims. I survey his features and a part of me yearns to know what could have been with the pair of us. Then I remember what led us to this moment. Defiance is rewarded when used right. Jimmy and Marius executed theirs wrongly, and they paid the price. I can only pray mine will pay off.
Standing back up, I move back to the bedroom. I ignore Jimmy’s corpse and start to grab my clothes. As I begin to redress, the magnitude of my actions settles itself on my shoulders like a horde of overbearing demons. My heartlessness at Jimmy’s and Marius’ final moments attacks me and brutalizes my senses. What am I becoming? I’m certainly something only my father can define now.
I mentally curse at myself. I’m Italian royalty. I’m supposed to be composed, strong, and fearless. But I am not made in the eye of the Dio Lavoro. I’m weak, confused, desperate. And I’ll do just about anything for those who I love. I know murder is an expectation, not a choice in my life, so why do I feel so guilty for it? I did what I had to do in order to protect Zane. Or so I keep telling myself.