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I stripped off my dress shirt, leaving my ribbed t-shirt on. I had more muscle and height than Marco. He was foolish to get into anything hand-to-hand with me, but if that’s what it took to get him to stand the fuck down...
Sweat crept onto my temples as we walked toward the library. Marco’s jaw clenched, his bare skin beading with sweat along his back. I pushed open the library doors. It would be easier to clean the blood from the slick floors there.
“Alright,” Marco said as he squared off against me. He raised his hands to block his face in a defensive position.
I stepped back and drew my hands up, my fists firm in my line of vision. I let him make the first move, swinging at me with guarded force. I struck back, unguarded and full-strength. My fist made contact with his face, sliding along his cheek. Blood splattered from his mouth as he bit his lip from the force. He took a step back, crimson dripping down his chest, and charged at me, throwing his body weight into me. His blood stained my shirt as I braced against him. Marco threw hooks at my ribcage, and I felt the crunch of a rib or two. My breaths faltered for a moment as I harvested energy from the pain and jabbed punches at his head. Unearthly noises rose from the depths of my stomach as I punched until he finally backed away, faltering in place. He looked as if he might tip over if I touched him. He shook his head to recover. I couldn’t react before he was on me again, leaping at me. I landed an uppercut to his jaw with a scream of frustration boiling over from so much more than that moment. He fell backward and I leaped on him, pinning him at his hips and drawing my arm back again. His eyes went wide, and my hand trembled in place. I couldn’t bring myself to punch the bloody man beneath me. His eye was swollen and bruised already. Blood leached from his nose and ran down his chin and neck.
“Are you fucking done?” I snarled.
“Fuck you.” He spat the words out, along with more blood.
“Are you really in the position to be so goddamn hostile?”
“You’re fucking the bitch who killed our father.” He writhed beneath me.
Goddamn it.Another great time to gain a conscience. “Gia didn’t kill him.”
He wiped blood from his mouth. “Then it was her pops!”
“I fucking killed Silvio.” I dropped my gaze before glancing toward Sammy. His fists were clenched at his sides. Marco stopped writhing beneath me and stared up at me with wide eyes. Well, the one was wide. I panted above him. “I did it.”
Marco tried to throw me off by lifting his hip, but it was futile. “Wh-why?”
“You won’t believe me if I told ya, but hedeservedit.”
“Ain’t nothing he could have done to deserve being killed by his own goddamn flesh and blood,” Sammy said behind me. Their reactions verified what I always knew, that they were never touched. Fucked around with. Made into a goddamn show.
“I’m glad you say that. That means you didn’t go through what I did. Be grateful.” I climbed off him.
In a way, it was comforting. But it also meant they’d never understand the depths of pain and mistrust Silvio created. The degradation stole my dignity, ate away at my worth. To fuck a whore while your own fucking father jerks off to you...Fuck you.I couldn’t even think about the rest without conjuring up more memories, forcing me to live with them.
“Silvio was a sick fuck. That’s all I’m willing to tell you.” My eyes narrowed as I offered my hand to help him to his feet. With hesitation, he took it. “Leave Gia the fuck out of it. She and I are done.”
ChapterEight
Gia
How the hell was I going to explain what I knew? I needed to tell my father about the hit. I needed to make sure his men kicked up their protection. But I somehow had to explain how I found out about it, where I was when I learned of it, and who I had been with.
The enemy.
I stood in my kitchen, my mind swirling as my fingers tapped on the glass of a vodka bottle. I wanted to down as much of the bitter liquor as I could. Maybe it would restart my heart, which felt like it had no beats left. My chest was silent and still. It felt vacant. Being alone in my head in the big kitchen made me realize just how fucked everything was.
I should have trusted Enzo. I should have known. Enzo loved me. I loved him. With everything against us, we were somehow making it work.
Ro walked into the kitchen and jumped when he spotted me. He nearly dropped the glass in his hand. “What the hell are you doing here?” he asked with suspicion all over his expression. Suspicion I deserved.
“I’m back,” I said.
“From where?” He cocked his eyebrow.
“I needed time to clear my head.”
Ro squinted at me. “Time withhim?”
Fuck.I knew that would be the first thing they thought. And they were right. I ran off with the man whose family I was supposed to infiltrate. He was supposed to be a faceless casualty, a pawn in the family game. Enzo wasn’t shit to me back then. He was a speed bump on our way to the top. But then I got to know him. He suddenly had a face. Instead of a speed bump, he was a whole person standing between us and our goal. When he protected me from his uncle, handed me the gun to take my vengeance, I got feelings. When he preyed on my fantasies and desires, bringing them to life for me, those feelings grew wings. As I fell for him, he made me fall in love with the business once more. I wanted to be a part of it again.
“You don’t have anything to say?” he said as he set the cup down in front of me.
