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“I can’t fucking believe you,” Sienna blurts out, her eyes a burning inferno. When she gets like that, there is only one solution. The only way for her to release her tiny inner demon is to fight. That’s problematic in her condition.
I’ll give Matteo this, he did tell me about her pregnancy weeks ago. He wanted to ensure she was well protected when she was in New Orleans without him. I knew Sienna was pregnant long before I found out about Sasha.
“Believe it, and believe this: while I’m the boss and head of this family, I will make whatever decisions I deem best for each of you. I gave you the same chance I gave Ren and Sasha. I placed you in Matteo’s vicinity. It’s not my fault he was too stupid to not notice you the first time around. Be glad I gave him a second chance. That is the only reason today happened, Sienna. But Dom doesn’t get what you and Ren did. Cormac hid her away in Ireland. I wasn’t sending my son to another country when I had to teach him how to be the boss.”
“Come on, Dad,” Ren finally speaks. “You have to see how messed up this is.”
My father ignores his youngest son, his gaze finding mine. “The twins had the luxury of falling in love, Domenico. You do not. I’m sorry for that too, but this marriage is happening. In six days, she’ll become your wife.”
“I’m not marrying anyone.” My voice is eerily calm despite my insides twisting in knots as a flame licks the back of my neck.
Flicking my eyes to Ciera and hoping they’re showing her just how ruthless I can be, I open my mouth again, spitting out words to hurt her, remembering the first time I angered her with crude terms. “I’m certainly not marrying a Fitzgerald whore.”
CHAPTER 2
CIERA
Over the years, there have been plenty of times when I’ve wanted to lash back at another person for the way they’ve treated me, spoken to me, or touched me. But rarely do the words that land on the tip of my tongue break past my lips.
I’ve been verbally and physically abused for as long as the nineteen years I’ve been breathing. When Domenico opens the snarl across his lips and speaks, something inside me rises to the surface, making me want to spew nasty words back at him.
I’m not a mean person. I look for the positive in every situation. I show kindness to people who deserve it and to those who don’t. I make sure to give ten percent of my monthly allowance to the church. Karma is real, and I don’t want to give her a reason to come for me or be on her wrong side.
The night I met Antonio’s son and the equally attractive giant currently standing behind him has stuck with me. I’d never admit this to another living soul, but I dream about them nightly. The dreams are always different. Some take place in my former bedroom in New Orleans, while others are back home in Ireland, but they all end with me waking up wet from my own sweat when the dreams turn deviant and downright sinful.
The only reason I know either of their names is because Antonio told me about them, along with his twins. I got a little lost when he mentioned the boxer that’s now his son-in-law. He and Antonio’s daughter, Sienna, married today. There are many people in his family, and I’m not used to being around so many at one time. It makes my skin crawl and my anxiety rise to levels that have my insides shaking.
I still don’t know what to make of the Caputo boss. Antonio is different from my father and the man that raised me back home. He’s kind and caring, protective even. It’s strange. I come from a family that wouldn’t throw you a raft if you were drowning, let alone jump in the water to save you. They’re the type that would stand back watching you struggle with a smile on their faces, and if I’m honest, they’d have a hand down their pants at the same time.
Fitzgeralds are sick and twisted beings. They’re selfish and don’t have an ounce of loyalty in their bones. I hate that I’m one of them. My last name and the blood running through my veins are equivalent to an elephant sitting on my chest, refusing to get off. I am forever tarnished because I was born into the wrong family.
“I think you’re mistaking me for the last one you shagged.” Being called a whore, or worse, a cunt, is a trigger for me. I’ve been subjected to vulgar name-calling since before my first menstrual cycle arrived. My chest developed when I was still an innocent, clueless little girl to all the ways the opposite sex viewed us. Other girls were mean. Boys were nasty. Men were cruel.
Words affect me more than any amount of physical pain ever has. I hate that about myself. It’s a weakness that I allow what someone else thinks of me to have lasting effects.
Feeling another set of eyes on me, I glance away from Domenico. Turning my head, I meet Tony’s disapproving stare. I swallow the nonexistent saliva in my mouth. It’s in that moment that it dawns on me that I spoke the words aloud, when usually it’s easy to keep them locked behind my lips.
“I raised you better than that, Dom. Show your fiancé more respect,” Tony says, his dominant presence finally releasing me from its grip. My shoulders drop in relief, and it takes effort to pull in a breath of air slowly rather than sucking it in at once. I don’t want to be here, but I don’t know how to get out of this pickle.
“Like hell she is.” The little girl Domenico dragged across the outdoor restaurant stomps her strapped-on platform heels against the concrete and steps in front of him like she’s his protective barrier. She crosses her arms and lifts her head as if challenging me.
“Brooklyn Martina!” her dad scolds before scooping her slender frame into his arms. “Time for you to find your Nana. This is an adult conversation.” Matteo is his name, the groom.
“Si said the same thing,” she reminds him. She’d be cute if her fury wasn’t aimed at me. Her jealousy is thicker than Domenico’s cold-hearted gaze.
Sienna’s husband turns, about to walk away when Tony says, “Don’t worry, Brooklyn. When the time comes, I’ll find you the person you’re meant to be with too.”
“You’ll find her nothing, Tony.” Before those words were uttered from the boxing champion’s lips, I thought he was the cool-headed one of them all. He seemed mellow compared to the others, but then, I’m only going off ten minutes of interaction for all of the rest of them except the boss.
Matteo turns to face his bride. That’s when I notice the dried blood that stains most of the white sleeve. “Sienna, handle your father.” Then he carts his daughter away from our group while I’m left wondering what in the bloody hell happened to him.
“This is a joke, right, Dad?” Sienna implores. Her head tilts down as she lifts her fingers to rub between her brows. “Just say this was a joke. We’ll all laugh, and then I won’t have murderous thoughts towards anyone.”
“He’s not joking, Si,” Domenico informs his sister, his voice seething. “But he’s lost his fucking mind if he thinks for one second that I’m going to lie down like a dog and do as I’m told. Call this shit-fest off before someone gets hurt, Dad.”
His eyes flip to mine, and the malice within them is palpable, while the man standing behind him looks like he’s undressing me from the way his lips curve and his winter-blue stare is hooded.
CHAPTER 3
