Page 10 of Her Vengeance

“Can you sit down? When you tower over me like that, you remind me of my father in a bad way,” Claire admits, and it rocks me to my core. I know just how much that man had her under his thumb her entire life, and he’s the last person I want to remind her of. Instead of sitting across the table, I move one of the chairs near hers so I can sit within reach of her.

“I am sorry. I never want to be a reminder of him to you,” I apologize sincerely, hoping that she understands. I extend my hand out to let her grab it when she’s ready. She reaches out for her glass and takes another sip of her wine. From here, I can smell the sweet notes, and I know that having that on the order list was absolutely worth the risk of getting caught.

“I need answers, Rome,” she tells me, letting go of her glass and placing her hand in mine. The second our skin touches, everything in the world seems right again. I know that every battle that I have fought is worth it for her. I just need her to give me enough room to show her how good we can be together.

“Where do you want me to start?” I ask, not wanting to assume what she may need. The catharsis of talking it through with someone who isn’t directly involved with the mess of her family might help her process it all better.

“At what point did you decide that I mattered?” she asks me, and it’s like a knife to my heart. She wants to start this story at the beginning, and as painful as recounting this entire process might be, if it’s what she wants, it is what she will get.

“Do you remember the day that your dad brought you to the compound?” I ask, setting the scene to when we were children. I was young and stupid, even as a child of a mafia family. Eva stands, walks into the kitchen in the silence, and comes back with two glasses of brown liquid. She sets a glass in front of me, and I continue to patiently wait for Claire’s answer.

“Yes… It was the day that my mom died,” she answers, and her voice sounds so fragile. I want to wrap her in my arms and take her away from all the pain this life has given her. Fuck me.

“That was the day you walked into my life covered in blood, holding the hand of my best friend. Instead of letting the world break you, you fought back every step of the way. When I tried to stop both of you in your tracks to figure out what happened. You broke a mirror hanging in the hallway and held a large shard out to defend yourself and your brother,” I recall the moment that she came into my life in vivid detail. The smell of blood and urine was evident on the small frame. In her eyes was a fire that refused to die.

“Leo grabbed my wrist and told me you were a friend,” she chimes in where I left off. Eva sits there, sipping my brother’s favorite bourbon and listening to how our relationship started. She doesn’t interrupt; instead, she sits and listens to the history without making it about her.

“After we walked to your bathroom, Leo and I sat there talking. He told me everything. Including how you called him to help you. You didn’t call the cops. Even as young as you were at the time, you understood what needed to be done,” I reminisced as I take another drink from my glass.

“When your mother is killed, and you are told that your only reason to survive is to give a message to your mafia boss father, you complete the task and hope to survive,” she responds to the idealism of not calling the murder of her own mother into the police. Even as a child, she had what it took to be part of a crime family.

“That was the day that I knew you were different,” I admit. Raw emotion is trying to claw its way to the surface as I barely keep it at bay. She takes a calculated sip of her drink.

“At what point did you decide I wasn’t worth the trouble of trying to date?” she asks as she pulls the glass away from her lips. The question itself does more damage than I can see coming.

“That is bullshit, and you know it,” I respond, letting out my frustration at the assumption of her worthiness. Within moments, there is a gun to my shoulder, and I am looking Eva in the eye.

“She asked me not to kill you, but if you raise your voice at her like an entitled prick again, I will start putting holes in you. It won’t kill you, but it will hurt,” she threatens me without hesitation.

“At some point after we met, you knew you cared about me more than you should about your best friend’s little sister. Yet, you decided it was too risky and that having me wasn’t worth it. I want to know when you made that decision for both of us,” she accentuates her point without even blinking.

“It was the day we met. Your brother saw the concern on my face and my persistence to protect you and told me that if I ever looked at you like more than a little sister, he would tell your dad. He elaborated that if I broke that boundary, I would end up dead,” I admit, vividly remembering the way that my heart felt when my best friend told me that all those years ago.

“You never thought about breaking that rule? Did I ever matter enough for you to consider it?” she asks me, breaking my heart.

14

Chapter 14

Claire

“Violence isn’t always the answer, but sometimes it’s the solution.”

We sit there, as uncomfortable as this conversation is, I deserve answers. It’s been years of me being hidden from the world and not being able to control my own life. The least I deserve is to understand why I have been excluded from being loved.

“I considered it periodically over the years. The first time I thought that I was man enough was when your father disposed of your tutor,” he admits, and I think back to that time of my life. Bitterness creeps up my chest, a violent and angry feeling.

“So you decided that I wasn’t worth the trouble then. Why are you here now?” I question, my voice resonating with the anger at being so easy to discard.

“Coming from the woman who shared a bed with her bodyguard last night,” he throws out, trying to mask the pain in his voice. You know what? No. Absolutely not. I stand, putting myself above him, over the charade that he is putting on. I grab him by the collar and twist until I know that I am squeezing his airway.

“You don’t get to say anything to me about how I have chosen to live my life. You left me. Time and time again, you turned me away and made me feel unwanted. What I did during that time to feel whole is not up for discussion. The next time you throw anything in my face, I will carve out the cold, dead organ you call a heart and feed it to you.” I spit at him, tightening the hold on his neck.

Suddenly, my door opens, and there stands my brother, stopping us all in our tracks. He blinks, turning white as a ghost, looking at the scene before him. I can see every emotion gliding across his face as he processes the scene before him.

“Romeo,” he whispers as his wife guides him farther into the apartment. They stagger into the apartment together, both of them in shock. Ella walks over to the table, more pale than I have ever seen her, and grabs his wrist, checking for a pulse. She falls to her knees, tears spilling onto her cheeks as she sobs silently. Leo walks over and picks Rome up by his neck and pins him to the wall.

“Give me one reason I shouldn’t make you as dead as we all thought you were,” he seethes at his lifelong best friend, back from the dead. He reaches into the waist of his pants and pulls out a gun pressing it to Rome’s forehead. Without thinking twice, I tackle Leo.