Page 89 of Bitter Poetry

He sent her to me in Ettore’s office and again at the wedding reception.

“Now. Tell me how she tastes, asshole, I need to know.”

“Like sweet, young pussy.”

My brother is something else. He sure as fuck lives for danger. I’m here, and he’s there with her multiple times a week, her personal chauffeur and bodyguard.

My brows pull together and a weird flutter kicks off in my gut.

I turn the shower off, wrap the towel around my waist and head back to the changing room.

Adam has finished and is exiting the changeroom when I return. Leon is still sitting with his back against the lockers. He has his cell in his hand and his thumbs are moving over the screen.

“Do you think I should be worried about Christian with Carmela?”

His head snaps up. His cell dings. He glances down, scowls at whatever he reads, and shoves it in his pocket. “He comes over as obsessively loyal to you. Also, didn’t he have a large hand in you taking her V card?”

“The fuck?” I toss my towel into the hamper and shove my feet into my boxer briefs.

“You asked my opinion, asshole. One day, maybe soon, you’ll get the girl, and I’ll get to carve pieces out of Ettore until his heart gives out. But it’s not today, and I need to know you’re not going to go caveman if I let you out to play on your own. And no, I don’t think Christian is screwing you over. Also, the two of them hate each other. He blames her for you being here. You know that.”

“Fine,” I say, pulling my pants on before reaching into the locker for my dress shirt. “I don’t know why I even mentioned it.”

“When I came in here today, I was worried about you with Ettore; now I’m worried about you with Christian.” He grins. “Don’t pick a fight with your brother. One, he has your back—always. Two, your boxing might be improving, but you’re not close to his level of crazy, nor do you spend your day dealing with the scourge of this lifestyle. He would kick your ass… Do you need me to come along?”

“No.” I shake my head, working the buttons closed. “I’m not really worried about Christian. And Ettore might have suspicions you’re more than a club manager, but that’s all they are. If he meets you in a business context it will elevate your profile. Better if we don’t play that card yet.” I sit down for my shoes, then straighten, grab my suit jacket, and give Leon my full attention as I slip it on. “I trust you, and I trust Christian, despite my earlier lapse of judgment. After the last few years and theway things have been sliding, I’m just fucking glad to have you back. Going there won’t be easy, but we’ve come this far, and I won’t fuck that up.”

“Good. I appreciate the price we’ve all paid—that we’re still paying. I should have come back sooner. I feel a lot of fucking guilt that I didn’t. After my visit around your father’s funeral, I knew it was time, but something still held me back. Bitterness. Sawing between my conviction that Ettore was behind my father’s death, then, despite digging, not finding evidence to back it up.”

“You couldn’t have known how this would play out,” I say. “None of us could.”

“We’re going to have to agree to disagree on that. My gut told me he wouldn’t stop—he didn’t. Even without any evidence, his ways, his actions in taking Carmela from you… in removing you as consigliere and sending his thugs to fuck you up. They all tell me about his character. I still want my revenge and still think he’s the man I need to exact it from… That he hasn’t even had the courtesy to visit you once. That he hasn’t so much made a social visit to me, to ask about my fucking mother, is telling. My father was the underboss, a position that carried respect.”

“He won’t ask because he’s guilty.”

He nods. “It’s hard to disguise just how many soldiers we’ve amassed, and we definitely can’t play with the books without risking his wrath. Rocco, while a weak consigliere, is good with finance. Ettore will be aware we’re raking in the profits. One of the reasons I keep expanding and investing is to keep money off the table and out of his hands. But aggressive expansion isn’t sustainable, and we are reaching the tipping point… You know he’s likely to press for you to marry Helena. Rocco said that Ettore would look favorably on the match last time he was here. Maybe that is behind him finally inviting you for a meeting.Maybe he’s thinking it will get the bitch off his back. Maybe he wants her as a spy in our camp. Maybe both.”

I grunt and shake my head. “Marry Helena? That’s where I draw the line.”

“You shouldn’t,” he says.

I frown. He can’t be serious. “No fucking way am I marrying her.”

“Why not? You don’t have to fuck her. Don’t even need to share a home with her. Get her a house somewhere—and a credit card. It will shut Ettore up. Might even make him relax his guard.”

I really hate that what he’s saying makes sense.

CHAPTER 28

CARMELA

Icheck my reflection in the en-suite mirror. My hair’s been blown out into big bouncy waves, the way he likes. I kept my makeup light. My dress falls to just above my knees, and my heels are exactly two inches—I have gone so far as to segregate all my former favorites in case I accidentally put a pair on.

Two inches… I feel like an old woman every time I slip them on. I swear if I ever escape Ettore’s clutches, I will never wear anything but four-inch heels again.

It’s been a week since the infamous incident where Christian fucked me on the kitchen counter at my father’s brownstone. The event represents yet another moment of sheer lunacy on both our parts.

My husband is a jealous, vengeful man who takes great joy in the demise of other people, while wielding his power with a savage lack of mercy. I’m under no delusions that my father lived a pure life, but he was a good man as far as being a father and husband went.