Page 53 of Sins of the Orchid

I held my breath, my eyes fixated on my newfound father. Time stood still, everyone watching the scene unfold. My grandmother’s men stood by ready to defend her. Two of her men came behind me, and I suspected it was to grab me and run if the situation worsened. My father’s family and my brothers put their hands on their handguns, ready to pull them at any second.

“She is my fucking daughter! She isn’t going anywhere.” Dad’s roaring and possessive tone surprised me. Yes, he made his wife pay for burning me and torturing me, but he hadn’t known about my existence for the first thirteen years of my life. He even admitted himself that he didn’t know what to do with me.

“Only by genetics.” Grandma Regina, despite her small form, was a force to be reckoned with. She bowed to no man; she listened to nobody. She was the queen. “You know nothing about her. Two weeks under your roof and your own wife tortures her. What’s next? She is scared of you, otherwise she would have confided in you. She doesn’t belong here, Bennetti!”

My heart thundered so hard, my ears buzzed, and I found it hard to breathe. The air was heavy, too thick.

“And whose goddamn fault is that?” he shouted, pointing his finger at her. “You kept her away from me. You and Margaret!”

“You were a married man!” she screamed back at him. “We had her reputation to think about. She deserved better than to become the whore to a criminal.”

“Grandma,” my voice was a shaky whisper that nobody heard.

“You fucking hypocritical bitch,” Dad yelled. “Get the fuck out of my house! And never come back.”

“She is my granddaughter. I have a right to be in her life.”

“Not if I say you don’t! I’m her father, and I trump you. I don’t give a shit who or what you are. Stay the fuck away from my family and my daughter.”

My whole body trembled, and my hands shook as I brought them to my lips, trying to keep the sobs from coming out. I bit hard into my lip, the pain grounding me. My dad’s face was red with rage, the vein on his neck throbbing, evidence of him trying to control his temper and failing.

“She is my flesh and blood. My only grandchild.” My grandmother’s voice shook. “I can give her so much more than you could ever dream of. She is the only heiress to the Regalè Empire.”

“She is a Bennetti. Always has been and always will be. You know it. It is you that kept her away from me. Get out now before I have you killed.”

My grandmother’s arm reached for me. On reflex, my hand went for her fingers when everyone pulled out their guns.

Hell rose, and I readied for the worst. My skin crawled with images of my mother’s dead eyes, the scent of the burning flesh, and my stepdad’s tortured screams echoing somewhere in the distance.

“Go to your room, Amore.” Dad’s voice was an order that wouldn’t tolerate disobedience, but I couldn’t move.

I stood frozen, staring at the scene unfold. The silence was too loud, the thundering in my brain increasing with each heartbeat.

Shoving the unpleasant memories into yet another dark corner, I focused on the two brothers.

“Trying to figure out how to shift?” Santi’s voice startled me, and I lifted my head, our gazes meeting in the rearview mirror.

“Maybe,” I shrugged. “I might want to take your car for a test drive.”

Santino Russo loved his cars. Anyone that valued their life would never touch any of them.

His lips barely curled upward but his eyes remained unmoved. “Only if you have a death wish, girl.”

I rolled my eyes at him. From kiddo to girl. I wasn’t sure if this was a step up or step down.

“Amore’s driving has gotten better,” Adriano glanced behind at me. “Though she hasn’t tried a stick yet.”

My cheeks flamed at his terminology. “Manual shift,” I corrected him. “Manual shift, Adriano. That’s the proper terminology.”

Adriano chuckled. “Same thing. Don’t have a dirty mind, Amore.”

I narrowed my eyes on Adriano but remained silent, avoiding his brother’s gaze because all my dirty thoughts revolved around Santi Russo, and the day he buried his father was not the time to think about it.

* * *

My eyes scanned the crowd, looking for Adriano. He had been slipping in and out of my vision all afternoon. I kept out of the way, quietly watching everyone. The other three families of the Cosa Nostra hung around, every so often throwing their glances my way. I didn’t usually frequent gatherings of the underworld, so I was a novelty to them. The only families of the mafia I socialized with were my own and the Russos. My gaze drifted through the room, and I spotted Gabriel Carrera at the same time he spotted me.

Inkman, I thought dryly of the nickname I assigned to him.