The gravity of my situation looms over me like the blade of a guillotine, ready to drop and lop off my head.
Nine, ten, eleven—
Because somebody wants me dead, too.
Chapter Eight
MASSIMO
“You left home at sixteen instead of killing me when you had the chance. You could have gotten your revenge but instead, you ran. Now after all of this time, I come to you to make amends with an offer, and this is how you repay me?”
“You ‘offered’ to step in and keep my childhood best friend from getting his ass shredded by that prick boss, Eddie Lugo, when you’re the one who sold him out in the first place.” My lips twist into a grimace. “You followed Joey that night. You knew exactly what was gonna happen.”
“It was easy to anticipate. Lugo’s wife is a hot piece of ass and she spreads those legs for any dick that comes knocking.” Savio shrugs. “Joey should’ve steered clear of STD-infested waters and picked another bitch to fuck that night. But his bad judgment became my gain.”
“You planned the whole fucking thing. You put Lugo’s wife up to it to railroad him.”
“Yes, well, I needed a way to get to you. You’re kind of a superstar now, running in circles with your friend Patrick, the big bad boss of the Mulligan family. You’re a philanthropist, too, helping underprivileged kids with that sports program you guys formed. You’ve really made a name for yourself. You have a solid network and very good, very powerful, friends.”
“I built it all on my own,” I growl. “And do you know why I didn’t kill you when I had the chance, Savio? Because I wanted you to see what I was able to do by myself, without your influence. Without your fucking abuse.” I step toward him, towering over him thanks to the genes I got from my mother’s side. “I didn’t need you at all, not your money, not your favors. Nothing. I worked my ass off to build my businesses and my network. You can’t take credit for any of it.” Ire floods my veins, coursing through me like a turbulent wave crashing onto the shore. “Killing you would have been too easy. It wouldn’t have given me any bit of satisfaction.” A mean smile lifts my lips. “Well, long-term, anyway. Dancing on your fucking corpse would have definitely made me smile for a little while.”
“You’re angry.” He nods. “I get it. I wasn’t the kind of doting dad your friend Joey has. And I’m not the simp your mother ended up marrying. I march to the beat of my own drummer. I make the hard choices, and I can spot weakness from miles away, destroying it before it dares jeopardize what I’ve built. I always protect what matters most to me.”
“Yeah, too bad that didn’t include me and Mom,” I seethe.
“Someday you’ll understand why I am this way and why I wanted you to follow in my footsteps,” he says, adjusting his tie. “And you’ll realize what you need to sacrifice to get what you want and what you deserve.”
“You almost killed Mom. She was your wife, you sick fuck. And you treated her – both of us – like shit until we finally broke the hell out of here.”
“And you’re lucky that action went unpunished,” he says coolly. “I chose to let you leave, never forget that. If I’d have decided differently, make no mistake. You’d both be dead right now.”
My skin crawls with the realization that we did actually escape a torturous death, an end that I’ve been trying to avoid for the better part of the past eight years because deep down, I always knew this day would come, and that he’d yank me back into his toxic and vengeful bubble.
“You’re a selfish, self-centered bastard who never gave a damn about us.”
“My only son. My only chance to pass on a legacy, and you failed me. Epically.” Savio rolls his eyes.
“You failed us,” I spit out through gritted teeth. “You never gave a damn about your own family, only what you could use us to get for yourself.”
He spins around, his eyes blazing like wildfire. “I don’t tolerate weakness, Massimo. Your mother was a risk to everything I built. She defied me one too many times and deserved everything she got!” He smirks, stepping toward me. “You want to lash out, to hit me, don’t you? Maybe stab me in the eye or in the heart. But you know exactly what will happen if you do. What would have happened if you ever acted upon that wrath.”
My spine stiffens because I do know all too well what the fuck will happen.
And who will suffer because I let my rage grab the reins.
I should have fucking killed him years ago, consequences be damned.
Now I have too much to lose and he knows it.
Savio dragged me back here, using my best friend as the bait.
He wants to keep me close for whatever twisted reason so now I finally have a chance to get inside and find a way to make him suffer the way he’s done to so many others over the years.
I can dig my heels in and resist, which will only piss him off.
Or I can do what he asks and seize the opportunity.
I already know the answer, but fuck him if he thinks I’m going to just bend over for him.
“You’re coming to the funeral with me,” he grunts, adjusting his jacket. “You will do exactly what I say, son.”
“You don’t get to call me that,” I seethe. “I’m not your family.”
“You’re still my blood. Don’t ever forget that, Massimo.”
“Believe me, that knowledge haunts the shit out of me every day. I would drain every goddamn drop of it from my body if I could eliminate any trace of you.” My fists clench against my sides as I glare at Savio straightening his black tie.
“Massimo, haven’t you realized yet what we can do together if you just pull the pole out of your ass?” He folds his arms over his chest. “I’ve changed my mind about our arrangement.”
“You need me, otherwise you wouldn’t have pulled me into this shit show to begin with. You don’t get to make the rules, Savio. Not anymore.”
“I do when I have something you want, something you’re desperate to protect.” His lips curl upward into a nasty smile. “It’s called leverage, Massimo. Picture this — Joey chained to the wall in a dirty, dark, and damp basement infested with rats, and Christ only knows what else. One of Eddie Lugo’s guys dumping gasoline over his head, saturating his entire body. And Eddie himself taking his trusty Zippo, flipping it open, and lighting the flame. You know the visual. You’ve seen it firsthand. Want to relive it? I’m sure Joey doesn’t.” He pauses. “Hasn’t his family gone through enough?”
“You psychotic fuck,” I yell, shoving him backward against the wall.
He doesn’t even realize that his words about Joey’s family twist the knife even harder.
And nobody feels the searing pain of each jab more than me.
My dark secret.
“Didn’t you learn anything when you were scrounging around on the streets?” he shouts, straightening up. “You can’t call the shots when you have nothing to bargain with. You know what that means?” He steps closer, the harsh stench of whiskey on his breath making my stomach roil. “It means I’m calling the fucking shots!” He swings out an arm in ire, sending all of the Venetian glass décor on the fireplace mantel behind me flying into the air. They shatter against the black marble floor, thin slivers of colored blown glass glittering against the stone slabs. “You’ll come to the funeral.”