“I followed you to America for a reason; I’ll make sure you love me,” Lorenzo states. He exudes so much confidence, he really thinks he’ll win.
I wonder if the feeling within me, that insubordination to let his love in, is me running scared or because I really don’t feel a thing for it. I know that can’t be true because when I think about Zane, I feel a familiar beat in my heart as it begins to work again. It’s not me; it’s my heart that’s the issue. I will only ever be able to feel the love of one man because what we had was pure, innocent, and forever meant to be too good to be true.
“Well, we’ll have to see what the future holds,” I murmur softly, knowing I can’t win this. I have tried to get Lorenzo to fall out of love with me, but apparently he’s smitten with my tough Italian self and I can’t crack that. No amount of evil, bloodshed, or bitchiness seems to deter him.
“Do we need champagne for this party?”
I close my eyes and feel all my hair stick up on end as the voice penetrates right into the sour depths of my soul. All of my tough girl attitude melts away and I’m left the weak girl I was when I was escorted from my father’s office and placed into a car and sent away. I feel all the cracks in me begin to show; this time they come back worse than ever and the physicality of the pain they inflict is enormous.
“Not going to turn and look at me, bambina?” my father says, his smooth tone laces around me and I want nothing but to be back in Italy, basking in ignorance and overwhelmingly hot sunshine. “Your good ole papà has been waiting for your return.”
As he says that final line, I bristle. I feel myself pull together, hiding all the cracks from show. Like fine china glued back whole, I want to look almost pristine to him. He’s been waiting for my return? The thought begins to make me laugh, and as I do so, I turn back to face him.
“You couldn’t wait to have me out of the house,” I state, my tone tight as I make all attempts to rein in my aggression. “Nothing you have done since before that night makes me feel like you’d want me back. So yeah, we do need champagne, but only so I can drink to forget what hell I’m back in.”
“Amalfi Coast wasn’t hell for you?” he asks, smirking at me as he scrutinizing my entire look. “I know what you’ve had to do, bambina. I’ve known every move you’ve made every single day while out there. It’s good to see you could behave.”
I laugh in disbelief. “Is that what Alberto told you?” I ask, wondering what else my loving uncle has told him. “I’m guessing he left out the part where I defied even him and treated him exactly like I would you. With total disrespect.”
I see my father’s jaw clench, the muscle tick as I watch a volcanic eruption begin to build within his emotions. However, the daughter he sent away never came back. I might have cowered before I pointed a gun at him, I might have repented my sins for my actions, but now I don’t care about anything.
What use is caring when you always lose?
“Did he tell you that he threatened to chop me up and send me back to you like that?” I ask and watch disbelief filter across my father’s wide eyes. “Did he tell you how I castrated a man on my first kill over there because, if I didn’t, I would have found myself mutilated for my unwillingness?” I want to smirk at how I’m affecting my father, but I’m nervous as to how my brothers are feeling about the new me. “You both preach about how lucky I am to have been here or there, but what’s lucky about having to make a man bleed out? What’s fun about killing to save yourself?” I query, but I don’t stay fixed on the heinousness of my own actions. “Just unlucky for Giovanni, I guess because I don’t give a shit about making someone suffer anymore.”
With that, my father’s face changes. It lightens up and he beams with a bright smile. “And this is all I ever wanted to see,” he states joyfully, and I’m sickened. He ignored everything before and only heard the bit he wanted to – that I’m fearless to hurt people now.
I’m broken and I see no way back to a hopeful future anymore. I used to spend nights wondering how I’d die and, with Zane, it was always the same way – old, grey, and still madly in love. However, now, I’m riddled with bullets from whenever the police storm the house or because a hit goes wrong. I meet an untimely end and it’s neither glorious nor glamorous. It’s fitting and warranted.
“Well, I’m glad I could do one thing right,” I comment, snarkily. But I have better aim now so I’ve upped my killing skills.”
“You think I’ll allow you to have a gun now?” my father scoffs in my face, chortling at the same time. “Bambina, I won’t ever trust you with a firearm around me again. Had I not had my own to shoot your brother in the arm and scare you enough to distract your already poor aim, I might well be six feet under.”