I never had any intention of loving her the way I loved Shelby. I shake my head; Aiden is right I need to move on. It’s been two years since her death and the dirty bitch still haunts me.
“So again. Why are you here? You don’t visit unless you need something.” He runs his thick fingers over his shaved head. Matteo is built like a bodybuilder and tattoos cover his body, even his bald head has a tattoo of a skull in flames. He’s known as the Skull King.
“You do business with Irish mob?” I ask, and his eyes widen before he downs the rest of his whiskey.
Matteo doesn’t have an alliance with any of the mafias. He’s an association.
“He buys a shipment of kilos of cocaine from me.”
My blood fucking boils but I don’t let it show. He shouldn’t be working with the enemy. Despite the fact we share the same blood, his loyalty should be with his famiglia, but I don’t have the right to be angry because it was Draco who slaughtered his parents. It’s a miracle we’re sitting in the same room, having a casual conversation.
“He doesn’t make his own coke?”
“Not anymore, he’s going broke. He doesn’t buy my pure coke. He buys the synthetic kind and sells it to the boys in the hood.”
“Tell me when his shipment arrives so I can follow him. I’ll pay you.”
“The rumors are true. You do want to kill Cashel, yeah?” He grabs his cigar and lights it.
“I’m going to chop his head off and feed it to the pigs,” I say, casually. My eyes venture to the bar on the dance floor where a bartender wipes down the mahogany wood.
“I’m kind of glad my familiga is not part of the mob anymore. I run my illegal stuff on my own.” Relief washes over his face.
“You need to be with your famiglia. I’ll make you an underboss, and if anyone wants to bring up the past. I’ll have them killed. My word is law.”
I mean every word. If anyone ever brings up the past, I’ll have them murdered Jigsaw style. I want the past to be the past and we start over. Draco is dead so there is no reason for us to be at each other throats.
“Two things wrong with your statement,” he says. “I don’t like to take orders from anyone, and your word is not law here. I’m the Skull King here.” He rubs his hands together. He’s lucky I like him and need something from him because if he was in my territory and disrespected me, I would have put a bullet through his head.
“Are you going to tell me about his shipment?” I ask, needing to change the subject.
He nods, puffs on his cigar, then flick ashes in the ashtray. A cloud of white smoke lingers in the air. I beckon my soldier with the suitcase of money, and he slides it to Matteo. Matteo opens the suitcase, beams at the fresh crisp hundred bills, and slides the suitcase back to me.
“You don’t have to pay me. I owe you for what you did for my wife.” He scratches his chin. “His packages will arrive on Thursday at midnight. A few of my men will be there. Don’t kill any of them.”
“Thank you,” I say, standing up from the chair.
“No problem. You should have dinner with me and Jasmine. Bring your wife,” he says, with a smile on his face.
I nod. “Let me know and we’ll come.”
If I can get Roselyn to behave then I’ll bring her.
“I’ll give you a call, soon.”
Roselyn
INSANITY IS BECOMING MY BEST friend. For a week and a half, I’ve been waiting for Devious to kill me. I haven’t seen him since he forced me to suck his dick. I’d rather take physical abuse than mental abuse. The—I don’t know if I’m going to die today game—is fucking with me. Every time I see the elevator door open, my heart beats so hard I think it’s going to burst, and my adrenaline spikes every day. My anxiety is back in full force. I cry a big bucket of tears hoping and praying it’s not my last day on earth and Devious is forgiving as Jesus. I can’t stand sitting in pitch black hours and hours of the day. I can’t take living off bread and water, nor shitting and pissing in the bucket. I can’t take being treated less than a human being. Loneliness greets me like an old friend. Trying to kill Devious was a dumb move and I should have thought twice about doing it. I could have made my life a lot easier if I would be an obedient wife.
I sit on the thin cot with my hands wrapped around my legs and my chin resting on my knees. It feels like it’s been weeks since I saw the sunlight. I miss it. The warmth of it. I miss being able to sit on the balcony and people watch. Now, I stare at the wall, beating myself up about Tommy’s death.
Most of the time, all I think about is Tommy, my mother, and Nonno. I wonder if he’s getting his medication on time and if the nurses take care of him. I help pay for his medical bills and medication. And Papa doesn’t want to have anything to do with him, so I know he’s not looking out for him. Pain bubbles in my chest. Usually, I start my day with tears, but not today. I don’t think I have enough tears in me to cry.
I never thought I’d say this, but I miss living with Papa. Swallowing, my throat burns from screaming for Devious to let me out of the glass box. I
