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Amelia---Mafioso

My fingers inch toward his, desperate for some contact. I am not okay right now. This was supposed to be a quick meeting with the other Dons, a face to face confirmation that I am still alive, much to their dismay. However, this meeting feels anything but simple. There are five other sharks in the room out for blood, and I know without a doubt, they’d love for mine to spill.

I just want to be home, in my sweats, with Rhodes. I still don’t have full recovery of my hands, my body still healing from the attack six months ago. From the combined efforts of physical and occupational therapy, I’ve made almost a complete recovery, but there are still days when I have to fight a little harder. Today is one of those days, apparently. I can’t look to my left because to let myself look at Rhodes is to show a weakness in front of these men. Being a woman in this world is enough of a weakness. The only reason he’s allowed in the room is because I demanded it; partners and spouses are not typically allowed into the inner sanctum of the Underworld.

“Amelia, welcome back,” a velvet voice calls from across the table, bringing my eyes up. Medina is the second most dangerous man in the Mafia. He is reckless, desperate for approval, which makes him my biggest threat. It was his man I had beheaded months ago, sending a clear message of what I thought of him. We’ve played a back and forth game and honestly, I’m over it. How I’d like to run my blade along that pulsing carotid as he squirmed.

They all squirm in the end.

“I—“ The words catch in my throat. As much as I try to project strength, there is still a vulnerability lingering since my attack. I don't know if I’ll be able to hide it today. Dammit it. I sense movement from my left, and then a firm hand grips my thigh, thumb rubbing in a steady cadence. “I don’t think you’re very happy to see me, actually. So let’s just cut the bullshit.”

“Now, now, Amelia. Let’s not be aggressive. Surely, you don’t want to exert yourself so soon. I’d hate for something else to happen to you and your chair be empty.”

I tilt my head, something in what he just said not sitting right with me, and based on Rhodes’ shift in his seat, I’d say my gut was right. Medina has a glint in those green eyes; it is a malice I know well, and it calls to the darkness I try to keep at bay. I had known that my ambush was likely as a hit. Rhodes wondered if it had been at Medina’s directive.

I shift in my seat, anxious to snatch the knife from the clutch laying in front of me, until Rhodes’ hand tightens, squeezing twice. There is chatter among the other Dons. I turn and see the tilt of Rhodes’ head, the smirk on his face highlighting that dimple I adore. He’s supporting me and grounding me while ensuring that the men know exactly who is in charge here. He may lead in our bedroom, but here in hell? The devil is gone, and The Fox has made her den.

The sooner I end this charade, the sooner I can go the fuck home.

I lean forward, reestablishing control of this meeting. Placing my elbows on the table, I steeple my fingers in front of my face.

“Did you miss me, Alonzo?” I ask, my voice low. The need for decorum has gone out the window. I will refer to the man before me by his first name—there is no respect to be found here. “I think we all know how much you love it when I remind you of your place. All of the Underworld knows who the top dog actually is, don’t they?”

I watch as the other men go silent, their gazes now flickering between the two of us, as the air crackles with tension. I see the tightening of his chest, the way his narrow shoulders set in defiance. Yeah, he put the order out to kill me. Alrighty, then.

“Maybe my message was not clear when I sent your brother back to you months ago.” I flick my eyes to the younger man, clear hatred in my eyes. “I do not trade in skin. I do not trade in drugs. I will not take kindly to men thinking they can come into my territory, thinking they can run things in direct opposition to me .”

My stare returns to Medina, a dare within it for him to challenge me. I may not be completely recovered, but if he wants to play, then I’ll let him sign his death certificate.

“I’m not sure what it is you’re insinuating, bambina. You have no proof that any one of us is dealing behind your back. Perhaps that accident of yours fucked with your memory, hmm?” He stands, pushing the tips of his fingers against the smooth surface of the table before straightening the cuffs of his pinstripe suit jacket. “This is why women shouldn’t lead, gentlemen. One little mishap and she’s gone mad with accusation.”

I lean back into my chair, watching him the way a predator hunts its prey, as he moves along the table and runs his hand in a caress on the surface. A signet ring glints in the overhead light; all the mafia Dons wear one, save me. To an outsider, it would seem insignificant, but I know this world and that move? It’s a tell before delivering the killing blow, and he seems to think I’ve fallen into his trap. A chuckle falls from my crimson-painted lips.

I check my manicure, considering the color. I should do a nice brown next time, or maybe even a matte grey. That could be cute. Who am I kidding? Black all day, baby. Rhodes squeezes my thigh in warning.

I don’t think he wants me to kill anyone today, and to be honest, I’m not sure I have the energy for it. Medina reaches me and forces my chin up, his grip forceful and painful. It is a move to force me into submission, ensuring I understand that, as a woman, I am beneath men.

“Don’t you touch her.” Rhodes moves to stand, but I lift one hand in warning. This isn’t his fight, and as much as I know it kills him, I need him to stand down.

“Such a delicate flower, aren’t you? One wrong move, one slip of my hand, and I could end you right here.” He tightens the hold on my jaw, the pressure making it difficult to regulate my breath. “It would be a pity if I were to finish what was started. After all, you killed my man. You know I could demand reparation, don’t you? But you are already familiar with that, hmm?”

A slow, evil grin crawls up his lips.

“Have you told him, bambina?” His eyes flick to Rhodes before they return to mine. “ Does he know how they broke your body? Have you told him how you simply lay there, not an ounce of fight in this magnificent body?” Medina’s gaze slithers down my chest. “How you paid your dues, all so you could play pretend in your father’s chair?”

I feel another hand stroke along my face before tracing down my neck, leaving fire in the wake. Tears well in my eyes as I refuse to break my gaze from him. I will my resolve to hold the wall just a little longer.

“I knew,” Rhodes says from behind me, but I can hear the shock-laced rage in his voice. This was the last wall of my vaulted heart, the last stronghold of my existence, and it’s now rubble at my feet.

Medina shakes his head, lowering himself down so our eyes are level.

“No, you didn’t. Amelia doesn’t let anyone in, do you? The last thing you’d do is let anyone know your dirty little secret, isn’t that right?” He squeezes and releases my chin before caressing my face. I yank away from him, wanting nothing more than to kill him where he stands. I train my stare at the wall behind him, hoping this ends quickly. The shame floods my body, the feelings I’d long buried bubbling to the surface. All of the work I have done to hide my ghosts is undone within a mere minute.

“Shame you are in that seat, Amelia Conte. Don’t worry, I have a feeling you won’t be there for long.” He stands, shaking his suit out before turning to the other mafia heads. “Come, let us leave and talk about actual business. Women aren’t meant for these conversations.” One by one, the men stand and begin to follow Medina, a few meeting my stare in support. There’s been a power struggle for a while now, and I know that I have a few allies in this circle. I just have to bide my time.

My demons taunt me, flashes of my body breaking flickering across my eyelids. The way the water turned pink after. I shiver, struggling to maintain composure.

Sobs wrack my body the second the door closes, and I feel strong arms wrap around my heaving shoulders. I shrug him off because I am not worthy of comfort. I know Rhodes just wants to hold me, but right now, I need to rebuild the crumbling walls around me. I have to refortify the barricades, and I need to put my armor back on. I no longer have the luxury of being simply Amelia Conte. She ceases to exists in this world.

“Amelia?” His voice is soft, the way you’d speak to a frightened animal so it doesn’t spook. I look at him out of the corner of my eye, seeing the look on his face. It is full of pity and heartbreak, which is the last thing I need. I made my decision years ago, and I live with the consequences of that every day.

I stand, straightening my suit jacket before facing him. I take a few deep breaths before speaking, forcing power into my voice.

“Let’s go home, Rhodes.”

“ Kochanie . I don’t—”

“No. I am not having this conversation. Not here. I can’t have it here. Take me home, Ro.”

I gather my clutch, holding it with a death grip. I turn, walking to the door when I feel his hand slip into mine. A gentle squeeze tells me I am not alone and that he is still here.

I can’t trust it. Who would stay when they learn what I did to take the helm?

Who could love a weak woman?