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I pull myself out of my shock. “Who are you? And what are you doing in my apartment?”
“Mama, is that her? Is Aunt Holly here?” I hear a little voice ask from inside. I glance to Helena, who shrugs her shoulders but is also cautiously looking around the hallway like she’s expecting the boogeyman to jump out at any moment.
“Sorry, I apologize. My name is Angelica Donatello. I believe you met my father in Italy a few weeks back, and I’ve recently come to learn that your husband, Theo, is my brother. I’d very much like to see him.”
Theo has a sister? I remember he mentioned something briefly during a discussion about the whole paternity news he was just handed. Something about a niece, but the fact that he also had a sister didn’t occur to me. He’s struggling to accept that the man who raised him wasn’t his biological father. I’m not too sure how he’s going to deal with the fact that he has a sister looking for him. Right now though, I’m on a mission, a mission to forget everything with the aid of tequila.
“Huh, well, that makes two of us. When you find him, tell him not to bother looking for me,” I say as I walk past her and into the living room. “Also, why exactly are you in my apartment?”
I stop short when I come to a little girl. She can’t be any older than eight. “Ah, it is you. Hello, my name is Isabella. But you can call me Izzy. I’ve never had an aunt before, so I’m very excited that I’ve got one now,” the little girl rambles.
I bend down to meet her at eye-level. “Hi, Izzy. My name is Holly. I’ve never been an aunt before either, but I’m honored to be yours,” I tell her. Then I straighten and glare over her head at her mother.
“Oh, right. Well, I was snooping, of course. I thought there might be a clue as to where I could find my brother.”
“Well, he isn’t here. Helena, I’m going to go shower and put some clothes on.” I don’t have it in me to deal with people right now. I just want to hide away. I want to restart the day and go back to when I was tied to the bed with T’s head between my legs. Why does it feel like I’m living in a never-ending nightmare? “Izzy, it was great to meet you, sweetheart. But as you can see, I need to go get dressed.” I smile at the blissfully oblivious little girl. I’d love to borrow just a bit of her innocence, to be in the dark when it came to the dangers lurking around every corner.
I head into the bathroom and lock the door. Everything looks the same, but I can sense she was in here. I feel violated, having this space searched by a stranger. I don’t have a lot of personal things left in my apartment. I’m surprised I haven’t just handed the keys back yet. I haven’t been back here since we were married. I guess I just never gave it too much thought. Until today. Until I needed space.
I turn the faucet on and sit on the shower floor, letting the warm water wash over me. My mind whirls with thoughts, and I really bloody wish I brought one of those bottles of tequila in here with me. It doesn’t take long for the tears to escape. “Why? Why is this happening? What do I do?”
I just need someone to tell me what I need to do. Where is T? I hate how much I need him. I hate how codependent I’ve become. And I hate how he can so easily leave me and go off, putting himself in danger, when I’ve begged him not to. But most of all, I hate that I’m wishing he were someone else right now. Someone with an ordinary life and an ordinary job, where his rivals don’t carry automatic weaponry. Someone who’s safe.
The little voice in my head reminds me that it’s because of who he is that I fell in love with him. This deep, hidden part of me craves his darkness, thrives on it. I just haven’t had time to stop and openly admit that to myself. What kind of person am I that I’m sitting here, praying that he’s giving whoever shot up our house hell right now? That he’s putting bullets into the heads of his enemies. No, not his enemies. Ours.
“Holly, you okay in there?” Helena knocks on the door.
“Yeah, I’ll be out in a minute,” I call back. I should go and deal with the ramifications of having Donatello’s daughter turn up at my doorstep. I should warn her that Theo isn’t in the frame of mind for a family reunion of any sorts at the moment.
So much for drinking my problems away today.
ChapterSeven
Well, that took longer than I expected. The old man had a lot of balls about him—that’s for sure. Usually, breaking people down doesn’t take me so long, but Beno wasn’t just any random thug off the street. No, he was a Don—as he attempted to remind us over and over again at the end—and I just killed one of the five bosses of New York. (John Junior never officially took to the throne so, for all intents and purposes, that hit doesn’t count.) Ask me if I regret the power move, and I’ll tell you not one fucking bit. There are two more on my list. But they’ll have to wait for another day.
“What are you going to do about this birthright shit?” Neo asks.
According to Beno, because I’m a Donatello by blood, I’m next in line for that throne. Like I want to take over another fucking family. I’m a Valentino; it’s what I know. I have no desire or plans to move to fucking Italy and take over the fucking country. Donatello might have just killed off his underboss—at least that’s the official story we’ve agreed upon, in order to maintain my wife’s privacy and ensure her protection. But it’s his problem to replace him, and it won’t fucking be with me. Beno claims the other two wanted to eliminate me because of the power I’d wield over them, given my birthright. They’re all fucking scared of the bastard.
They should direct that fear towards me, because I’m coming for each and every one of them. They set me up. They wanted me to insert myself in their sex trafficking scheme, knowing I’d be alone. Knowing I wouldn’t say no to stopping that shit. They wanted to kill me off before Donatello could uncover my paternity. How the fuck they discovered the truth, I still haven’t quite figured out. Maybe Holly is right. Maybe I do need to have a discussion with my mother.
“I’m not going to do fucking shit about it. What I’m going to do is pick up my wife and take her the fuck home.”
“Ah, yeah, about that. Holly’s at her apartment. Helena called me earlier; she’s with her.”
“What the fuck is she doing there?”
“No idea, but Helena said to warn you. She’s not in a good mood.”
“No shit. I fucking left her in a café in a bathrobe to come save your ass.”
“And I’m sure when you tell her as much, all will be forgiven. She loves me. She’ll be glad you got there in the nick of time to keep my brains from being splattered all over the dining room.” He grunts as my fist hits his arm. “Ow, what the fuck was that for?”
“My wife does not fucking love you, asshole,” I groan.
“Yeah, she does. You know who else she loved? Sonnie, and she hasn’t even had a chance to say goodbye to him.”
“The funeral’s planned for this coming Saturday. It took some time to arrange to have his body flown in.”
