Things have changed for me in theFamiglia. In the beginning, it was just a means to an end, nothing more, but over time, some of these men have become like real family to me.
I’ve learnt to trust and open up a little. I’ve still got a long way to go, but I’m slowly getting there. A couple of them even know about Lil’ Peach, which is a part of my life I never planned on sharing.
When there was a threat against Dante’s sister-in-law, Lucia, he summoned me to a town a few hours away to find the people responsible. We had intel that’s where they were hiding out, and when three of our men turned up butchered, I was tasked to step in and help.
It wasn’t a quick job, and I had no idea how long I’d be gone, so when Mrs B wasn’t around to watch Peach that first night, I had no choice but to leave her with someone else.Saying no to the job wasn’t an option. The Mafia always comes first. That’s the deal you make when you sign up. Once you’re in, everything else takes a back seat, including your family.
I’d met Lucia once, when I had to watch her for a few hours at the safe house while Romeo ran some errands. She was a little full on, but it didn’t take long for her to break through my walls and get under my skin. The thought of anything happening to her, or someone crushing that vibrant spirit, was something I wasn’t prepared to stand by and let happen.
I turned up at their place with Lil’ Peach in tow and asked them to watch her overnight. Leaving my niece with people I didn’t know that well wasn’t an easy decision, but my gut told me they were good people, and they’ve yet to prove me wrong.
Today isn’t just about celebrating the take down of those Italian fuckers, but it’s also to honour Romeo, the underboss, who almost didn’t make it out of that mess.
I come to a stop when I reach the table, and instead of the usual grunt I use to greet people, I actually move around the table and shake a few hands. When I reach Romeo, the man of the hour, he stands, gives me a one-armed man hug, and taps my back a few times.
“How’s Lucia?” I ask him once I’ve taken a step back.
“She’s good,” he replies, with a smile. “As crazy as ever, but I wouldn’t have her any other way.”
I let out a small chuckle. She’s a top chick, and he’s lucky to have the love of a good woman like her.
Images of him getting resuscitated on the tarmac at the airstrip by Dante as I dragged a heartbroken Lucia away still fucking haunt me. I’m so glad he pulled through. He’s a tough motherfucker.
“How’s Lil’ Peach?” he asks.
“Good.”
Romeo pulls out the seat beside him, gesturing for me to sit. I’ve moved my way up in the family pretty quickly. The fact that I’m seated up near the head of the table now confirms as much.
I no sooner plonk my arse down, when a hand reaches over my shoulder and places a glass of water with a wedge of lemon in front of me.
I don’t have to look to know it’s her. I can fucking smell her. She smells like a damn cupcake—sweet and tantalising.
My head snaps to the side to see Emily standing right there. Even after all this time, seeing her knocks the air out of me.
“I saw you walk in,” she says, a pretty pink blush creeping up her neck.
My brow furrows as I stare up at her because I despise the way my heart rate kicks up a notch whenever she’s near. She’s so beautiful … too fucking beautiful, and that effortless smile that I usually love feels like a swift kick to the balls now.
“I haven’t seen you in a while,” she adds when I don’t respond. I wish I could say the same. “How’s Peach?”
“Fine,” I mutter, spinning my face back towards the guys, dismissing her without shame.
It’s a cunt move, but I don’t care. I can’t deal with these feelings—they’re one-sided and messy—and she’s not mine. She belongs to someone else, and the last thing I need is to make it harder on myself.
Maybe I should make her hate me. If she stops looking at me the way she does, and doing sweet things, like bringing me drinks and leftovers as if I’m someone special to her, I’ll finally be able to forget.
“Harsh,” Romeo murmurs beside me when Emily turns around and walks away. “You know her or something?”
“Or something,” I reply, picking up my glass of water and taking a sip.
There’s no way I’m going there with him, or anyone for that matter. This sick fucking obsession needs to stop.
By some miracle, I managed to ignore Emily for the duration of lunch. I’m pretty sure I felt her eyes burning into the side of my head when she and the other waitress brought out the food, or maybe that was wishful thinking on my part, but I stayed strong.
To my annoyance, I still found myself shoving my hand into my pocket throughout the meal, rolling her Chapstick between my fingers. I’ve done it so often since it came into my possession, the label’s completely worn off now. I’m fucking obsessed with the thing.
It goes everywhere with me as if it’s some kind of prize. It’s even become part of my morning ritual. Wallet in the back pocket, watch strapped onto my wrist, then I reach for this. I should just throw the fucking thing away and stop torturing myself.
