Page 11 of Depths of Obsession (The Emerald Dagger Mafia #2)

CHAPTER 11

M y heartbeat stutters. “Papa.” I don’t know what to say. The hair on my arms lifts. This man is a stranger to me. Suddenly I understand the terror that his enemies must feel when confronted with his anger.

“You puttana . You disgraced us. You did this,” he says gesturing toward my mother. “You made me do this. You.”

He crowds nearer me, and the stench of whiskey overwhelms me as I shake my head. “I didn’t do anything. I swear I didn’t. Gazzago is lying to you. I did nothing. My boss killed Edoardo.”

“But you were there and for that we must make restitution. Gazzago wants to marry you. You will be powerful as his wife. What is wrong with you that you don’t want that?” he thunders. “What is wrong with you? Every good girl should want what her father tells her. I say you will marry Gazzago and you argue with me.” He shakes my phone in my face. I’m sure he’s forgotten he has it in his hand.

“I can make a better match than Gazzago,” I say. Anything to get him to calm down. “I can marry someone better and then you won’t have to work. You and Mama can retire.”

“It’s too late. You will marry Gazzago. You will stop embarrassing me and do as you’re told.”

My mother groans. I turn to her and reach out to touch her but my father gestures with the gun. “Leave her. She got what she deserves. She don’t listen to me. A wife should listen to her husband. Now she knows what will happen if she doesn’t listen. She argues with me. Nags me about my gambling. Nags me about money. She should be happy. I made her who she is. She was a nobody until she married me and now she argues with me. Tells me I need help. Who the hell is she to tell me I need help?” he thunders.

He waves the gun around some more as he continues his tirade and I’m afraid he’s going to shoot her. Or me. He’s lost all touch with reality. “Papa, if I marry Gazzago, what then?” I ask as I try to move between my mother on the bed and my father.

His eyes narrow. “Then you live.”

I swallow. Does that mean if I don’t marry him, my father will kill me? “But what about you and Mama? What happens to you?”

My father frowns. “What do you mean what happens to us? I go to work for Gazzago. He needs a strong man to be his right hand. His current guy is not so good. Gazzago wants me. I know how to run the business. I know how to make money and protect Gazzago. I’ve done it for forty years for Aldo and he was the head of la famiglia . Gazzago is nothing. I can make him so much richer.” He points to himself with my phone. “I can bring him to the top.”

My father is delusional. Completely and utterly delusional. Aldo Giordano did not need my father to get to the top. He was already there. My father was just along for the ride. He was the muscle to Aldo’s brains.

The sound of a phone ringing breaks the silence. My father looks toward the door. The phone must belong to Rafe. My father snorts. “Valdici thinks he knows what he’s doing? He sends Tony and Rafe to come and stop me. They didn’t have a chance. Stronzos , both of them. What do they know? I’ve been working for la famiglia since before either of them were born. And to challenge me? No fucking way.”

My phone goes off in my father’s hand. He stares at the screen and then throws the phone across the room. “Your friends are puttanas . It’s them who turned you away from me. It’s their fault. Them and your mother. She should’ve had better control over you.” He stares at her. “She got what she deserved. She won’t disobey me again.”

He turns back to me. “And you, you are going to get the same. I will not have you disrespect the family name. Come here,” he commands as he points to his feet. “Come kneel at my feet.”

My stomach rolls. If I kneel at his feet, he will hurt me. I know this but what choice to do I have? My mother makes another sound and my father looks at her. I suddenly move toward him. I need him to be distracted from her.

I drop to my knees in front of him. “I’m here Papa.”

“You will do as I say.” He pulls out a zip tie. “Turn around.” I have no choice. I turn and he zip ties my hands behind my back. “Turn to face me,” he says.

I turn.

He pulls his hand back and slaps me across the face. I rear back but I fall into the side of the bed and not out of his reach, so he slaps me again. “ Puttana ,” he yells. “You will listen to me. You will do as I say.” I try to turn away from the blows but there’s nowhere for me to turn. I scream that he’s hurting me, but he’s too drunk…too far gone. “You whore. You will marry Gazzago and do whatever he says, or so help me God, I will kill you,” he roars and then hauls his arm back and makes a fist.

I squeeze my eyes shut and brace myself for the blow but it doesn’t come. Instead, I hear a strangled sound. I open my eyes. Luca has my father by the throat and he’s wrestling the gun out of his hand. Luca’s eyes glow and his teeth protrude like fangs. I can’t make sense of what I’m seeing. My father fights back and the gun goes off. Luca staggers.

“No!” I yell. “Luca!”

He staggers but then straightens. He knocks the gun out of my father’s hand and then he rips my father’s throat out. Blood sprays across the room. And then Luca is on him. He’s sucking the blood from my father’s neck. What the hell is happening ? I’m dizzy from lack of being able to draw a breath. I see spots in my vision for lack of oxygen. My skin crawls with each violent sucking sound coming from where my father twitches in Luca’s grasp.

Mercifully, everything goes black.

“Is she okay?”

The voice is familiar, but my world is so foggy, I can't quite place it. I could be swimming through a thick, cloying mist for the heaviness in my limbs. I try to open my eyes, but they feel like they’re made of lead. Even the thought of moving them makes my head spin. I drift off again, losing myself to the darkness.

“When will she wake up?”

The voice is back, more urgent this time. Mia. I recognize her now. Why can’t I wake up? I force myself to try again, my eyelids twitch, but they remain stubbornly closed, heavy as ever.

“Not sure. It shouldn’t be too much longer. The sedative will wear off soon.”

Renzo. That deep timbre is unmistakable. Progress. I want to laugh at the thought, but even that seems too much effort. Instead, I just let myself float, weightless, drifting on a cloud. It’s nice here, warm and comforting, not like before—before something terrible happened. Something bad. A memory flits just beyond my reach, like a butterfly dancing away from my fingers. I remember butterflies. At the summer house. We used to see them all the time. I miss the butterflies. I miss the summer house. I want to go back… but something tells me I can’t.

Why? Why can’t I go back?

A new voice cuts through my reverie. “Any change?”

Nico. I know that one too. Hooray for me. I want to giggle, but my body doesn’t respond, as if it's betraying me. Oh well. I’ll just keep floating. It’s peaceful here.

“No.”

That voice is terse, biting. Luca. He sounds angry, upset. The cloud beneath me begins to fade, slipping away, and suddenly I’m falling. My mind spins, pulling me back into a whirlpool of memory. Luca’s anger. My father—he’s angry too. The memories crash into me like waves. My father standing over me, the sting of his blows, my mother on the bed, beaten and broken. The image is vivid, and the whirlpool I’m in accelerates. My stomach lurches. I’m going to be sick.

I sit up, gasping for breath, my eyes flying open, and immediately I vomit. Luca is there, holding a bowl, catching it. He hands me a damp cloth when I’m done. I wipe my mouth, staring at him as more memories rush in—of my mother, of her pain. It’s too much. I gag and spew the remaining contents of my stomach.

“Maybe give her some space,” Mia says, stepping in, her voice soft as she tries to take the bowl from Luca. He glares at her, the tension palpable, but eventually, he steps back, retreating from the bed. Mia takes his place, sitting beside me, her eyes gentle.

“How are you feeling?” she asks, brushing a strand of hair from my face.

I let out a hollow laugh, my throat raw. “I just hurled my guts up, so I’m going with shitty.”

Mia grins, her eyes twinkling with relief. “I think she’s on the mend.”

I swallow hard, blinking. “Where’s my mother? Is she okay?” My voice trembles and a cold sweat breaks out along the small of my back. I brace myself for the answer.

“She’s okay,” Renzo says, his voice reassuring. “She’s at a clinic in Switzerland. They’re taking good care of her.”

“Jesus,” I whisper, my eyes darting around the unfamiliar room. It’s definitely a man’s room—the dark wood furniture, the minimalistic decor, the scent of cologne and leather lingering in the air. Luca’s scent. It should be comforting, but it’s… There is some memory still floating beyond my grasp. But trying to pull it forward makes my head throb. I lay a hand on my forehead. “How long have I been out?”

“Twenty-four hours, or so,” Mia answers.

Luca lingers at the back of the room, leaning against the wall, his gaze steady. Nico is beside him, while Renzo is close to Mia, who’s seated next to me. I shift, pulling myself up against the headboard. The tension in the room is suffocating and all their eyes are on me, like they’re expecting me to crack or shatter.

“What?” I ask, my voice defensive. “Where’s my father? Is that why you’re all staring at me? What happened to him? Did the police come get him?”

Mia takes my hand, squeezing it gently. “No, Pippa. Your father is dead.”

The word echoes in my brain. “Dead,” I repeat, numbness spreading through me. I look around, their faces somber, as if they know something I don’t.

I lick my lips, frowning. Wait. They aren’t swollen. They feel… normal. I touch them with my fingers, confusion knotting my brow. “Papa hit me. Why aren’t my lips swollen?” I move my hands to the rest of my face. It feels… fine. None of it hurts. “What aren’t you telling me? Why are you all staring at me? Am I going to die? Do I look hideous? Am I still dreaming? What the hell kind of drugs did you give me?”

Luca’s lips press into a thin line, and he puts his hands on his hips. “You’re not going to die. You don’t look hideous. You’re not dreaming. I applied… some creams to your face. They helped it heal faster. The drugs were just to let you sleep while you healed. You’re fine.”

“Then why are you staring at me like that?” I snap. The fog in my brain won’t clear, and it’s frustrating. “What aren’t you telling me?” My eyes lock on Luca, and there’s something there—a memory, still just out of reach. He steps forward to the end of the bed, and suddenly I know. I know this is his room. We’re in his loft in Milano.

My gaze meets his, those deep green eyes of his, and everything comes rushing back, all at once. The black of the gun, the red of my father’s blood splattering over my mother’s already on the walls, the green glow in Luca’s eyes—his fangs. He had fangs. I stare at him, my heart pounding in my chest, my breath catching. This can’t be real. It must have been a dream. It had to be the drugs.

“It’s not the drugs,” Luca says, his voice low, raw with something I can’t quite place.

I swallow hard, looking around the room, searching for something, someone to tell me I’m wrong. I grip Mia’s hand, my knuckles turning white. “Tell me. I’m imagining things, aren’t I? Luca couldn’t possibly have fangs. He didn’t rip my father’s throat out and—and drink his blood. It’s the drugs, right?” My voice breaks, desperate.

Mia gives me a sad smile. “No, Pippa. It’s not the drugs.”

“Luca shot my father,” I say, my voice trembling. “He took the gun and shot him.”

Mia shakes her head. “No, he didn’t shoot your father.”

“But… but… what the hell, Mia? What the hell is going on?” My head spins, and I can’t get the image of Luca—his fangs—out of my mind. I press against the headboard, trying to flee the truth. “That can’t be real,” I whisper, almost to myself.

“It’s real.” Luca crosses his arms over his chest. “We… The Valdici’s…we’re vampires.”

Mia shoots him a sharp look, but he ignores her, continuing. “The sooner you understand that what you saw is real, that vampires are real, the sooner we can move forward.”

“No.” I shake my head, panic clawing up my throat. “This is bullshit. Vampires aren’t real. You guys are in some… crazy cult.” I press my back into the headboard, trying to get away. Turning to Mia, I grip her hands. “We need to leave. We need to get out of here, now. This is some whacked-out shit, and we need to go.” I try to get out of bed, but Mia stops me, her hands firm on my shoulders.

“I’m sorry, Pippa,” she says, her voice gentle but firm. “I didn’t want you to find out this way. I didn’t want you to find out at all, but it’s true. Vampires exist. All sorts of magickal creatures exist. When you think about it, it makes sense.”

“Makes sense?” I stare at her, incredulous. I jerk my shoulders to dislodge her hands, but she grips me harder. “What kind of drugs is he feeding you?” I glare at Renzo.

Mia smiles sadly. “Believe me, I wish it were drugs, but it’s not. Renzo, Nico, and Luca are vampires. There are witches—real witches, not the kind with pointy hats. There are demons and mages. There are… all the magickal creatures we’ve read about in stories. They all exist, and they’ve been here all along. We just can’t, or don’t want to see it.”

I shake my head, my heart pounding. They’ve all gone insane. There’s no way this is real. I blink, an idea forming. It’s a dream. It has to be. My face is healed—there’s no way it could have healed in a day, cream or not. I’m just dreaming. I pinch myself, hard. “Ow.”

“You’re awake, little one,” Luca’s voice softens, his eyes watching me closely.

Renzo clears his throat, stepping forward. “I know it’s a lot to take in.”

I shoot my gaze back to Luca, my voice shaking. “My father shot you. I saw it. You staggered.”

He nods, his expression reluctant. “I was weaker than I normally would be because I had to use the magick realm to get to you so quickly. It can… drain us sometimes. It fades after an hour or two, but I was slower, weaker than I should have been.”

“Where’s the bullet hole?” I demand.

“There isn’t one.” He pulls his shirt up, revealing smooth skin over defined abs, unmarred by any wound.

I turn to Mia, my eyes wide, tears stinging at the corners. “Why are you lying to me? Why is this happening?” My voice breaks, and hot liquid slips down my cheeks as I start to cry. “If your magic cream healed my face, why is my mother in Switzerland?” I demand, my gaze snapping back to Luca.

“The cream can only do so much,” Luca says, his voice gentle. “Your mother has internal injuries.”

I close my eyes, the truth sinking in. My father beat her badly enough to put her in a hospital. I knew it, deep down, but I couldn’t face it. I don’t want to face any of this. It can’t be real.

I need to fucking wake up.

Mia’s voice breaks through my thoughts. “Would you like something to eat?” She points to a tray of scones, clotted cream, and jam beside the bed.

I look at the tray, my stomach churning. Scones are my favorite, but I don’t think I could eat right now. My eyes flick to the knife beside it, and an idea forms. “Maybe,” I say, my voice small.

Mia hands me the tray, placing it in my lap. Fighting the urge to gag again, I force myself to pick up a scone. My fingers are clumsy as I try to spread the cream. Luca moves closer, reaching out to help, and I lunge, stabbing him in the arm with the butter knife.

“Pippa!” Mia exclaims, her eyes wide with shock.

Luca pulls his arm back, the knife sticking out of it, his lips curving into a faint smile, his eyes twinkling. He’s amused. “Are you testing me, little one?” He pulls the knife out, blood running down his arm. I watch, transfixed, as the cut closes, the skin knits together until it’s like it was never there. I grab his arm, twisting it, trying to find the wound, but there’s nothing.

“Do you believe me now?” he asks, his voice soft.

I look down at the knife with blood on the blade, then back at his arm, my mind reeling. I have to be dreaming. I grab the knife, my hand trembling, and move to stab my own arm, but Luca catches my wrist, his grip firm. “No, Pippa. You’re not going to hurt yourself.” He takes the knife from me, his gaze never wavering. “You’re not dreaming. You’re not drugged. This isn’t a cult. You need to accept that vampires, as well as all kinds of other magickal creatures, are real.” He sits on the bed and gently scrapes his thumbnail on my arm. I feel that. I’m not dreaming.

So I must be going insane. Tears prick again, and I gulp the emotion back.

A silence stretches between us, heavy and charged. Renzo touches Mia’s shoulder, and she stands. Nico and Renzo follow her out of the room. Luca stays, his eyes locked on mine.

“I think your real issue is accepting what your father did and that he’s gone. It’s not going to be easy, and it will take time. None of this is pleasant, but you’re strong, little one, and you’re not stupid. Stop fighting reality. When you accept it, you can move forward.” He hands me back the knife, his expression softening. “Don’t hurt yourself. It won’t prove anything. Eat your scones. Get some rest. I’ll be back to check on you later.”

He turns and leaves the room. I jump a bit as the door closes behind him, my heart pounding, my mind still spinning. Can this really be happening? I push back the blankets and climb out of bed. My legs are shaky as I make my way to the ensuite bathroom. I stare at my reflection in the mirror. My face is fine. Almost perfect, with just a faint shadow of bruising around my eyes, a mere hint of what happened. There’s dried blood in my hair. I tilt my head, examining my ear. My earlobe is torn, the result of when Papa struck me and ripped my earring out. My head spins and my vision swims. My heartbeat pounds in my ears as I grip the countertop.

Oh my God. It happened. It all happened. I didn’t want to believe it. Denying vampires are real means then none of it was real. I don’t want it to be real because if it is then my father really did do all those horrible things.

I stare at my reflection, seeing the truth in my own eyes. Luca is right. I’m denying the truth to protect myself from facing it. My father was a monster, and he hurt me and my mother. But now, that monster is dead. And the vampire who killed him, just another kind of monster… maybe, just maybe, he’s the kind of monster I can live with.