“I want to talk to him,” I demand.
Arlo shakes his head. “He’ll be out in just a few months, talk to him then, when you’re both able to actually fucking talk. Not in that place.”
Nodding my head, I stand. “I need the day off. I need to process.”
Arlo lifts his hand, giving me a wave. “Go and meet with Lenora, take her to lunch? She works too hard. Put it on my card, yeah?”
I sink my teeth into my bottom lip and nod my head. I reach into my purse and check to make sure that I have Arlo’s company credit card, not the one for the casino, but the one for his legitimate businesses with Gavino.
When Arlo agreed to have me work for him, I thought that I would be in the casino just filing the paperwork here, but apparently his legitimate business office with Gavino was a train wreck too.
So, my assumption that this would be a little part-time thing for extra money to dump into savings has actually turned into a full-time position and one that I have fallen in love with.
I can’t imagine myself not working for him, not only do I get to see a little of the inner workings of the famiglia’s businesses, but I also get to spend time with the men and women that I’ve felt extremely distanced from since Massimo went away.
“I’ll see you tomorrow morning, first thing.”
“Take the week off if you want, Pippa. It would be okay with me.”
“And do what? Sit around in my house wondering who else watches me and jacks their dick? No fucking thank you. I need to be here first thing in the morning, Arlo,” I snap.
Arlo’s brows lift before he lets out a snort. “Just go. I’ll see you in the morning,” he grumbles. “I’ll have a car come and get you.”
Turning away from him, I lift my hand and wave before I turn and walk out of the room. My phone rings in my hand and I notice that it’s a blocked number. My initial reaction is to let it go to voicemail. I don’t. Instead, I answer it just as I step outside of the building.
The recorded voice that I’ve become familiar with asks me if I would like to accept the collect call. I think about telling it to go to hell. Almost a year. I haven’t heard or seen my husband in almost a year and now he calls me?
Agreeing to the call, I inhale a deep breath while it connects us. “What?” I shout.
“Dolcezza,” he hums.
“Fuck your dolcezza. What the fuck do you want?”
“You’re angry.”
“No goddamn shit,” I snap.
There’s a moment of silence and I think that he’s going to hang up on me, but he doesn’t. I hear him clear his throat, then I hear him hum softly before he speaks.
“I’ll be home soon. I know you’re angry. I just want to make sure you’re okay. Arlo probably told you what happened.”
I snort. “Yeah, Arlo told me what happened. I’m okay, grossed out, but okay.”
“Pippa, I just…”
“You’re sorry?” I ask when he doesn’t finish his thoughts, his words. “Sorry that you were a giant fucking asshole and ignored me for years. Not days, Massimo, years,” I hiss.
I hear him sigh, then he inhales before he lets it out in a long exhale. “I deserve that, Pippa. I deserve a hell of a lot, and I have a fuckload to atone for when I get out.”
Tears stream down my face at his words. He does have a fuckload to atone for, but neither of us is perfect, never have been. I open my mouth to tell him just that, to ask him if he will let me come and see him so that we can talk in person.
I open my mouth but no words come out. Instead, I scream. I feel something hot slam into my shoulder, then my waist, then my thigh. My entire body crumples to the ground, I try to pull my legs up into the fetal position, but I can’t.
I can hear Massimo’s voice in the distance. I hear car tires screech and squeal. I lift my eyes and watch the back of a red sedan speed away. A man shouts, then another. A woman screams. Then Enrico’s face appears in front of me.
“Oh, fuck,” he growls. “Fucking shit,” he snaps. I watch as he picks up my phone, holding it to his ear. “She’s right here. Someone got her, don’t know who. Bystanders already called 911. I can’t tell, two, maybe three times…” His voice begins to fade away.
I open my mouth to call out, to say something, but no sound escapes my lips.
Then.
Everything.
Goes.
Black.
MASSIMO
Shot.
No, gunned the fuck down.
I could do nothing but listen to her screams. I want to know who the fuck did this and when I find him, I’m going to torture him—slowly. Flashbacks of my mother’s death play in my mind on a loop. I’m as helpless right now as I was at five years old.
Making my way back to my cell, I clench my fists tightly as I stare at the wall in front of me. All I can do is think about my wife. Think about my treatment of her over the past four and a half years. I’ve been downright cruel when she has been nothing but kind and patient.
Pippa never deserved me, never deserved an ounce of the treatment that I dealt out to her. But she stayed when she could have run. She also stayed faithful when it could have been a hell’ve a lot easier to find pleasure elsewhere.
Whoever did this to her will die a slow and painful death. Pippa is a true mafia wife. Strong and true, faithful and honorable. I will avenge her. And if she lives, I will do right by her.
I’ll make her the mother she wishes to be, I’ll try to be
