“You little bitch,” Zane muses, mirth filling his eyes. “Right, Daddy Abbiati can go fuck himself while I fuck you.”
I don’t have time to take in what’s happening as I go from teasing Zane to laying flat on my back with my hands locked in the handcuffs. I stupidly tug at the cuffs, thinking I’ll break free, but I’m trapped. When I revert my gaze to Zane, he looks at me with utmost amusement. I stare as Zane leans over only to flip the phone over and looks back at me. He looks ready to devour me as his hands prop himself up on either side of me and he covers my body with his.
“If he’s going to keep calling while I keep you here, I’m not having his face staring at me the entire time.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“You have got to be fucking kidding me!” I bellow and resist the urge to tear my hair out.
My father has come back a monster. He’s on a continual rampage to find order, but he’s finding that it’s not all that easy. Sadly, the Dio Del Sangue doesn’t have the smarts to see the rebellion rippling under the surface of his otherwise perfect family. He’s full of integrity and grit, but he lacks the common sense to see that those right under his nose are far from happy.
And now he’s landed the ultimate insult – teaming me up with Giovanni.
“I’m not joking on this matter, Amelia,” he scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “This is happening whether you like it or not.”
“You’re treating me like I’m on probation or something,” I retort, my voice rising higher into a shrill, desperate cry. I resist screaming to get my own way because I see it won’t work. Becoming angry won’t do fuck all to get me away from my brother.
“You kind of are, Bambina,” my father states and releases his folded arms from his chest. He begins to pace a slow, steady trail back and forth across his office. “The way I see it is that by letting you go off and work alone, you’ve become complacent. You’ve deviated from all of your own teachings and from mine, and I think it’s time you got back to how you were.”
“It’s not that easy,” I comment dryly, perplexity unfolding within. “I’m not some student who needs teaching. I’ve deviated because I have a fucking conscience! You gave me a hit that was too big for me, and my conscience got the better of me. That’s on you, not me.”
“Now, now, now, Amelia,” my father chortles at me, “you’ve always had a conscience. You always questioned the life the men had outside of the kill, but Maverick had actually caused you pain. I had hoped he would have been your easiest kill. I mean, revenge is a dish best served cold, and he had been out of your life so long. Your feelings for him should be at their coldest.”
“Are yours for Madre?” I ask him, glad for the distance as red-hot anger unfurls from within him. The reaction causes me to smirk. “Didn’t think so.”
“You would do well to remember what happened the last time you used her against me,” my father grounds out between clenched jaws.
“I, also, remember it did fuck all to keep me in line,” I counter and look between my father and brother. “Now, who are we killing? Because the sooner I get this over and done with, the better for my sanity.”
“Not so fast,” my father diminishes my hopes of a quick kill. “It’s going to be a long night for you, Bella.”
My brow furrows, wondering what else could happen in one evening. “Why?”
“There’ll be a family meeting in order to sort Manuel out tomorrow.” He applies a heavy glare to me, appalled at more deceit over Manuel’s recent betrayal.
It doesn’t take a genius to realize that Giovanni did what he always said he would.
“No,” I gasp, my breathing stolen as I realize our own family betrayal. “You absolute fucking asshole!” I look at Giovanni who stands with the biggest smile on his face. I’m sickened at his enjoyment of torturing his own siblings. It breaks my heart that he can do this to us and still sleep easy. “Why?”
He shrugs and begins to laugh. The arrogance riles me more, and I have to restrain from reaching my boiling point. Most of the corruption we face is at Giovanni’s hands because he chooses the wrong allies. He isn’t run by love. He’s run solely on power, and he gets that because our father allows it.
“Delinquents don’t make for a strong family,” Giovanni asserts, and I can feel the dagger of his words hit me, too.
“Twisted bastards don’t either!” I retort, my throat tightening on me. “He’s done nothing wrong.”
“Yet,” my father states, shaking his head with dismay, “I want this nipped in the bud before anyone finds out about Manuel’s sexuality. I do not raise weak men, and homosexuality is a high sign of that. It’s unnatural within in the Dio Lavoro.”