Things didn’t go the way I had planned for them to. I wanted a few days respite to spend some time with Zane, mentally recuperate with a man who wanted nothing more than the promise of a future with me. However, my wishes rarely go granted these days, so I wasn’t surprised when news came in and my father went into a midnight rage.
I had spent all day unaware that my actions toward Jimmy and Marius were going to set a change of reactions in so quickly. However, Big Al found out about his men’s demise, and if I didn’t take the chance to pounce now, I lost the opportunity entirely. Filled with panic, the Italian brute was ready to flee back to Italy and go into hiding until his last days, but I didn’t want to lose this chance. I didn’t want him to choose his death; I wanted it at my hands. He was just making it far more complicated. After all, Big Al – once my father’s most humble right-hand man – was now a wanted man and he knew it.
Without him knowing my father was onto him, my father managed to wrangle a date with me for tonight. I had less than twenty-four hours to prepare, but I was ready the moment I secured that small glass vial in the side of my bra.
Once more, Enzo tried to argue with me, but I just ignored him. I listened to what I wanted rather than sat down and rationalized everything for the greater good. I just wanted to murder one final time before I started to hand in my title of Manhattan’s very own Femme Fatale.
Considering everything, I was shocked he wanted to meet me, but I know how to wrangle this moment with lies and make sure only one of us is left breathing.
Crack.
I cringe back to my reality and look back at Big Al across the table. He had already ordered before I even arrived and was now digging into a lobster feast while I was waiting on my first drink to arrive. I have to admit, I never realized how fucking rude and sexist he was to the female race, but apparently not all Italian men worship sexy women.
“So, why did you want to meet me?” Big Al asks with a mouthful. “I’ve known you all my life and now you want a date.”
I try to resist scrunching my nose up with disgust and just force a sickly sweet smile upon my face. “Well, before I always thought my father would frown upon it. I mean, with you being close to his work and everything, but after what you did with Zane Maverick, I had to admire that someone felt that dedicated to the Dio Lavoro.”
“The fucker’s still alive,” Big Al replies heatedly, slamming his fists down onto the table. It rocks, the water already placed on the table sloshing from its glasses and Big Al throws his napkin at the puddle as if it’ll tidy itself up. “I wanted him dead, Amelia. Did you know how badly I wanted him dead?”
“Possibly as much as my father did?” I counter, trying to defuse his intense hatred to the reality that Zane had very much survived.
“Try more,” he grounds out, pushing his plate away. “I wanted to make your father proud. Not checking to see if he had a heartbeat wasn’t enough.” He stops only to look back at his meal unsatisfied. “Makes me so angry that I botched this.”
“That’s actually why I’m here,” I interject his fizzling anger. “Jimmy and Marius had to die, as did Benji. They were still proving themselves. You have nothing to prove to my family. If they wanted to really prove they had everything it took to be a part of the Dio Lavoro, they should’ve put a bullet between his eyes and done it execution style.”
Big Al chuckles at me. “And here we heard you were insanely in love with him. It was another reason we did it. He was tearing you from your true family and making you blind. We wanted him gone so we could move onto bigger and better things without distractions.”
I wince heavily at the sound of that, and pray it doesn’t outwardly show. I worry that my overloading emotions will one day be my biggest downfall. Not my rebellion, nor my defiance, but my true emotions. I’ve felt the beginnings of it, but what if love is the biggest killer of them all?
“Love is blind,” I comment dryly, thankful that my own glass of wine has arrived. I thank the waiter gratuitously and take a large sip.
When I finish, Big Al nods, picking up his glass of red wine. “L'amore è cieco,” he repeats my words in Italian and raises his glass to me. “Just always remember, Amelia, Il sangue non è acqua. Blood is thicker than water.” He speaks his Italian with such roughness that the words leave a resonating impact on me – is blood thicker than water, though? “Do you want to order?”
“I’m not hungry,” I tell him sincerely, taking another sip of my wine before placing it back down. “If anything, what I have in store for you will work up more of an appetite.” I give him a seductive grin, leaning forward enough to place my elbows on the table and press my breasts together. “I wanted to offer you a thank-you for making me see sense. Not only where Zane Maverick is concerned, that is, but where my family is, too. I think I’ve spent so many years teasing you, it’s time to give you what you’ve always wanted.”