Scorned Obsession (Scorned Fate)

Another five days went by and Sandro and I had fallen into a routine. I continued to sleep in his bedroom and finally got used to sleeping beside him. Sometimes, I would even roll into him, and he’d let me. I usually woke up before he did at six, so I could give him extra time to sleep. If I were honest with myself, it was because I was too conscious of his morning wood. Many times, I found myself with my leg thrown over him and he would be stiff as a board. I knew he couldn’t sleep. And he’d already been coming home early in the morning. Sandro needed his rest so he could be clear-headed as boss.

He didn’t wait for Jabbin’ Java to open anymore, not if he wanted to catch a few hours of sleep and sit down to have breakfast with me, but food from my brother’s café seemed to magically appear every morning. These little gestures were melting the last residual anger I felt for Sandro. I was still pissed at the situation, at Raffa’s edict. But I recognized the effort he was making to keep the balance. Besides, it almost felt like a courtship. Aside from the food, my full set of skin care products appeared in the bathroom one morning, including a basket of luxurious bath bombs and my favorite scented candles. I remembered Divina and me talking about the brand I used a few days ago.

Sandro and I didn’t have enough time for any meaningful conversations about the future, but we spent our few stolen moments reminiscing about the past. Unearthing our bond helped ease my acceptance of the situation and reminded me of who Sandro was to me. Our marriage was real to him but questions remained. I wasn’t sure how it was going to work. Would he stay as boss? Did he expect me to go on the run with him when he faked his death?

That evening, Miller arrived with a whole feast of fish and chips from Eamonn’s, my family’s Irish pub. After dinner with the guys, I retired to the theater to watch a series. There was no internet. No connection to the outside world. I tried my best to ignore the fact that I was still a prisoner in this house.

By this time, there were seven sunflower arrangements scattered in different rooms and they provided much needed shots of joy to lift my spirits.

Something woke me. I had fallen asleep across the love seat in the theater room. The projector was off. I didn’t even recall what I was watching.

There it was again. Voices.

My heart jackknifed in my chest. Friend or foe? Then I heard Sandro’s low baritone and my nerves calmed down.

I stuffed my feet in fluffy slippers and made my way to the front of the house, relieved that there was no blood on the floor. I wondered if I’d developed some sort of PTSD. It was quite an introduction to the Rossi crime family on my second night here.

The voices were Sticks, Sandro, and Tommy.

It was three a.m.

“Why are you still awake?” Sandro walked to me and gave me a brief kiss.

“I hoped to wait up for you. I fell asleep in the theater.” The acrid smell of smoke was all over him. He was wearing black as usual, but there were smudges above his stubble line.

“Why do you smell like a chimney?”

“Go to sleep, baby.” He gave me a nudge toward the stairs.

“No,” I said firmly. “What happened?”

Sticks and Tommy looked at each other. Sandro continued staring at me. Almost pleading with me to let it go.

“What. Happened?” I blew out a breath. “What burned down?”

Why even mince words?

“There was a fire at the club.”

Blood drained from my face. I swayed and clutched Sandro’s arm. “How bad?”

“Not bad.”

“It’s going to be closed for months,” Tommy informed me in a way that didn’t hide that he was shooting the blame my way.

“Tommy…” Sandro growled.

“What? She needs to know. First Gian’s poker game and now this.” I heard from Divina the cops raided their poker game yesterday. Gian was pissed. One of his soldiers was in jail, and it looked like the racketeering charges were going to stick.

“You think my family did this?” I challenged.

“Who else?” Tommy replied.

I looked at Sandro. “Do you believe it?”

“What I believe doesn’t matter. The De Luccis are within their right to retaliate,” Sandro said.

“Exactly. But they wouldn’t do this. Blatant destruction of property…” I paused. “Was anyone hurt?”

“A couple of guards,” Sticks said.

“I’m sorry.” At least Sticks didn’t look as condemning as Tommy.

The front door opened. Gian and Griselda walked in with Raffa.

I was immediately on guard with the wave of hostility entering the house.

“Oh good, she’s awake,” Griselda sneered.

A threatening sound rumbled in Sandro’s chest as he pulled me close.

“Look what your family did!” Her eyes flashed viciously.

“Enough, Griselda!” Sandro snapped.

“Enough? Enough?” she shrieked. “It was our sweat and blood that built that club. And now, because of your stupidity over this girl, everything is up in flames.”

“Sandro’s the stupid one?” I shot back. “Why don’t you ask Raffa here how his ridiculous conditions keep me from my family? Was that your intent, huh?” I shot Raffa a glare when he couldn’t see me. I ignored Sandro’s warning squeeze on my shoulders. “You were setting us up to fail. But regardless, you know what? My family wouldn’t do this. This isn’t their MO.”

Gian advanced on me, but Sandro must have had enough. He didn’t even warn his cousin. He simply shoved him.

“Don’t even breathe her air,” Sandro warned.

Tommy grappled with Gian to hold him back.

“My wife…” Sandro stressed those words. “Is right. The De Luccis won’t try anything destructive while they’re not sure of Bianca’s situation.”

“Surely you’re not suggesting we just tuck our tail between our legs,” Gian sneered. He looked at the Blind Don. “Raffa, do you see now who you backed as boss? He’s pussy-whipped. He’s more concerned with his wife’s feelings than the Rossis’ interests and will never put us first.”

“I am putting the Rossis first,” Sandro spat. “Do you really want this to become a bloody street war with the De Luccis? Tit for tat. When will this end?”

Raffa, who’d been quiet through all this exchange, finally said, “Are you absolutely certain that the De Luccis aren’t behind the club fire?”

Sandro was silent.

“They aren’t,” I answered.

“I wasn’t asking you, little girl,” the old man said. A smirk curved his mouth. “Do your job, Sandro. Figure out this shit. In the meantime, try to curb your wife’s tongue. She should know her place in the family and give us that Rossi heir.”

As they turned to leave, Sandro went for his gun. I grabbed his arm.

Griselda saw what was about to happen and gasped. That was when Gian started to turn, but I’d already stepped in front of Sandro.

Gian smirked. “Oh, look at that, your little wife trying to protect you.”

“Come on, Gian.” Griselda grabbed his arm. “Let’s take Uncle home.”

As the three left, we heard Raffa mumbling about being too old for this shit.

Tommy slammed the door before turning back to Sandro. “What the fuck, man?”

Sandro gave me a flat stare. “Go to bed, Bianca.” He turned to Tommy. “Office.”

Sticks and I were left in the foyer.

“You don’t believe my family would burn down the club, right?” I asked.

Sticks sighed. “Not a hundred percent, no. And Sandro feels the same. But like he said, it would be a fair retaliation.”

“This is so fucked up. We need to do something. Get word⁠—”

“Oh, hell no.” Sticks gave an incredulous laugh. “Don’t turn those big doe eyes on me. I like my head where it is.”

“But if we don’t⁠—”

He yanked open the door. “I’m heading back to the bunkhouse. I need some sleep. I suggest you do the same.”

Sandro

When we entered the study, I headed straight for the scotch. I took two glasses. Poured one for Tommy and another one for me. Then I threw myself behind the desk. Tommy stood in front of me, tossing back his scotch. He grabbed the bottle in front of me and poured himself another one.

“Easy on that.”

“Easy on—” he sputtered. “Tell that to yourself, Sandro. What the fuck was that out there? Were you really going to shoot Uncle Raffa?”

“I’d probably nick his ear.” Though putting a bullet through his head would take care of most of our problems.

“Look, I get that you’re protective of Bianca, but do you think shooting an old man, a blind one at that, is going to endear you to her? You’re only putting a target on her back, showing everyone how little it’d take to push you over the edge.”

“What’s the matter, Tommy? Afraid you would have to step up as boss sooner?”

“Fuck you, Sandro. Is that what you’re doing? Forcing Raffa’s hand to replace you as boss? It wouldn’t be me at this point, you know. It’d be Gian.”

“I don’t think you deserve the position as much as Gian,” I replied.

“What? Because I think the De Luccis set fire to the club? It’s a logical explanation.”

“You’re letting your emotions rule your judgment.”

“And you’re not?”

“Mine will not start a bloody war. And as much as the thought of killing a blind old man sounds unsavory, let’s not forget this is the same man who has slaughtered men and their families. Who doesn’t care about collateral damage. His blindness came at that price, but it still doesn’t absolve him of the many innocent lives he’s taken.”

“And you, Sandro?”

“I have a code. I only take jobs to kill men with criminally black hearts.” Or rapists.

“So how are we going to launder the money coming in without a club?” Tommy instantly changed the subject because we’d had this discussion before. My assassin’s code. It helped that my first kill was a big one. I’d been able to dictate my limits. No women or children, even as collateral damage. All because I wanted to look Bianca in the eye and not flinch.

Losing the club would make it a challenge to achieve our six-month plan to position him as boss. But I was wavering about what to do next because I was determined to keep Bianca.

A significant part of me still maintained this: The De Luccis wouldn’t risk Bianca with a big move like this. That they trusted me enough to keep her safe even when I cut off all communication. But I couldn’t be everywhere while I ran the family, and that was why I had Sticks on this property. Someone who was loyal only to me and who couldn’t be corrupted by money and influenced by mafia politics.

“This is a mere setback. We should get rid of our toxic assets first and rebuild from there.” I leaned back in my chair. “Now, where are we with the cocaine?”

Tommy’s mouth flattened, and he regarded me as if he wanted to talk about the fire some more, but thought better of it. His shoulders sagged in resignation. “The Toronto Albanians contacted me. They’re willing to take it off our hands for what we paid.”

I tried not to smile. Luca came through, after all. According to Luca, the relationship between the Toronto Albanians and their New York counterpart was on shaky ground and it was the perfect opportunity for a power play. New York didn’t want our cocaine? Then fuck them.

It was four thirty when I snuck into the bathroom of our bedroom. I’d been sitting in soot and the smell of smoke for half the night; washing all the grit away lifted some of the weight off my shoulders. I decided to just wear shorts when I slipped into bed with Bianca.

She immediately rolled into my arms. “All done?”

“Yeah.”

“You smell good.” She rubbed her nose against my chest.

“You should have joined me in the shower.” So much for sleep, I was getting hard. I purposely stayed out late to reduce our time in bed. And I refused to sleep elsewhere. Taking care of Rossi business was a perfect excuse. But each night, she seemed to trust me more and started rolling into me when I slipped in beside her. I had brushed her full tits, gripped her tiny waist, and had my hands all over her generous hips and ass. Fuck. Forget getting hard. I was fully erect.

She gave a small laugh. “We haven’t even had sex yet.”

“Oh, is that the order of things?”

“Hmmm.”

“Why aren’t you asleep?”

“I’m sorry about the club.”

“I don’t want you thinking it’s your fault.”

She didn’t answer for a while and I thought she had fallen asleep. Then her fingers drew circles over my chest. “I don’t want you to go shooting people simply because they insulted me or looked at me wrong.”

“I wasn’t going to shoot Raffa,” I admitted.

“Then—”

“I was going to give him a warning. You probably shouldn’t have challenged him earlier.”

Her fingers stopped circling. “I’m sorry.”

She was silent for a few beats before saying, “What is this about producing a Rossi heir?”

I stiffened. At the beginning of all this, the thought of consummating the marriage was not even part of my plan. That changed rapidly the second I made Bianca my wife, and I wanted a taste. But I was also a coward, because I knew once I had a taste, I would never let her go. Boy, was I wrong. I didn’t even have a taste, and I decided to keep her. I was jealous as fuck of Miller, and I wanted to rip off the head of any man who even looked at her with lust or stars in their eyes. It reminded me of the time after I watched Bianca in that fashion show. I returned to Club Aristos and destroyed my office.

But I would never, ever become my father. I would never force myself on a woman. I would never force a woman to have my child. Bianca only knew that my father had an affair with my biological mother and she died during childbirth. Raffa and Wilma were the only ones alive who knew the whole sordid truth of how I came into existence.

A product of an atrocity.

Raffa wanted to prove I was my father’s son.

“Sandro?” Bianca’s voice was tentative. “What’s wrong?”

I blinked back my dark thoughts. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her about that part of my life yet. She would recoil. Be disgusted. “The reason Raffa wanted me to keep you from your family for three weeks was because he thought I could get you pregnant by then.”

“What?” She pushed up on an elbow. “Why didn’t you tell me this?”

I raised a brow. “Are you going to have sex with me to fulfill that request?”

“No, because that’s a crazy request.”

“Exactly.”

She got off the bed and stood in front of it, glaring at me. “Then why did you agree to it?”

“That’s the only way to get Raffa to agree to me becoming boss. I was going to worry about it later. Also…” I swallowed the tacks in my throat. “I would get to keep you longer.”

She just stared at me. But her features went through several emotions. Surprisingly, none of them were anger. She pursed her mouth and her eyes gleamed with tears.

“Sunlight…” I whispered.

“Damn you, Sandro,” she exhaled raggedly. “Why can’t I stay mad at you?”

“That’s a good thing, right?” I patted the space beside me. “Come to bed, baby.”

Even taking sex out of the equation, I enjoyed behaving like a married couple.

She sniffled, and walked around the bed and got in beside me. “You should have told me sooner.”

I dragged her into my arms. Fuck, she felt so good. She made me feel good. Whenever I was in Bianca’s presence, I didn’t feel filthy or disgusted with who I was.

“What if I’m ready?” she ventured.

This time, I was the one who untangled myself from her. I sat at the edge of the mattress and couldn’t help the derisive laugh that escaped my lips. “Don’t say that. You’re not.”

“How do you know?”

I stared her in the eye and pointed between us. “I need you to be okay with this. Are you?”

“In what way? We’re married.”

“Do you feel married to me?”

She had to go chew on her bottom lip. Jesus Christ.

“It’s a weird state,” she answered.

“Because you were forced into this.”

“So were you.”

“That’s what you think. I simply found an opportunity and did not feel guilty about it.”

“Because you saved me from Gian?”

“Yes, but I also got what I wanted. But did you get what you want, Bianca?”

“I’m not a white-picket-fence kind of girl.”

I stood up. “No, you’re not. But are you finally okay being married to a made man?”

She averted her eyes.

“That’s what I thought. Until you’re okay being married to every aspect of who I am, then, no, I’m not gonna fuck you.”

I leaned over and brushed the back of my fingers along her face. “There’s too much beauty in our history. Despite the times when we’re mad at each other, I don’t what to ruin it. But make no mistake, I already consider you mine. I’m not letting you go ever.”

Her eyes met mine in surprise.

“I’m going to earn that right to fuck you…and be your husband in every way.” I walked back into the bathroom and shut the door, locking it because my self-control was fraying and it wouldn’t take much from Bianca to make it snap.

Time for a cold shower.