“Have you given me any other reason not to?” He counters, “History doesn’t lie, and the De Luca family as well as Rossi fucked us all over.”
“I get it,” I snap at him.
But he just shrugs. “If you don’t like the truth, then it’s best we don’t talk at all. You do your thing, and I’ll wait for the results, if there are any.”
I laugh humorlessly. “You think that hurts me, Knox?”
He stays silent.
“It doesn’t,” I grab my glass and down the contents before I get up from the table, “I’ve been underestimated my whole life, tossed aside because I’m a woman who couldn’t possibly have anything to contribute in this life. Yes, we are bad people, but I have never pretended to be otherwise. And for the record, half of the deals that were madewere negotiated by me. He went rogue with Rossi. I never would have agreed.”
“Because you’re sogood?” He leans back in his chair and pins me with his stare. “Let’s not forgetwhereyou come from and who you are.”
“Oh, I’m not forgetting,” I jab, “Because at least I amsomeone.”
I turn and start making my way to my room, grabbing the sneakers to shove onto my feet before I head for the front door. The lack of movement makes my departure far less dramatic than I’d like it to be, but fuck being in here.
“Elena,” His stern voice calls after me, “Eat your food.”
“Fuck you,” I yank the door open and slam it for good measure.
Dusk has settled around us, turning the sky a deep dusty purple, not quite dark yet but dark enough that the floodlight triggers when it senses me. I don’t pick a direction to go, but I find myself walking toward the paddock with the bull, the animal standing in the middle of the pen, looking toward the herd of cattle several fences over.
It doesn’t seem feasible that an animal of that size and nature can look like a statue, but he does. The night air is still warm, and the hum of flies buzzes at my ears, the noises of the ranch quieter now it’s settling into night.
“You’re just lonely,” I mumble, leaning on thefence.
A huffing sounds, somewhat muted with the distance, and the bull shakes his head, tail swishing.
“What’d you do to land in there, hm?” He moves slightly, turning to me at an angle that allows him to watch both me and his herd. Beyond the paddock, I can see Knox’s men working, shoveling something into a wheelbarrow at the stables. In the city at this time, the roads would still be packed with cars, horns honking, shouting and hollering joining the chaos. There’d be the odd misfire of a car that would leave people questioning whether it was a gunshot or not, and crowds of people walking down the street toward the strip with the bars and restaurants. It would be alive, chaotic and messy, not this tranquil quiet where the sounds of owls and crickets are the only things to accompany the thoughts inside your head.
I have yet to decide whether I like it.
Being born and raised in loud, messy violence makes the silence almost deafening. I think I was five when I saw a man killed, his brain splattered up the wall after my father pulled the trigger. I don’t remember why he did it, just that I was standing at the door to the kitchen, eating a cookie.
I still remember the way the gun shot had rang inside my ears, and how the blood had sounded when it hit the wall.
It wasn’t until I was fourteen that I killed someone for the first time. I had been sitting in on a meeting my father was having with some of his dealers, why I don’t know, just that he had wanted me there. To learn his ways perhaps, to meet the men and women that feed the business.
They hadn’t been what I was expecting. Hollywood’s portrayal didn’t look like men with Rolex watches or designer suits, but that’s what these men were. Young, rich, corrupt, with narrow minds and a thirst for power. Power that only money and violence can get you.
“Such a shame you didn’t get your male heir,” One of them had said at the table, “While a beauty she is, it’ll only get her so far. Do you plan to swear someone else in? Perhaps an arranged marriage will work in your favor.”
“My daughter and this family are none of your concern,” My father had responded. My dad was a cruel man, with very little mercy and even less patience,buthe did love me. I was his entire world, and to talk ill of me is a slight he wouldn’t let go of lightly.
“I’m just saying, Mr. De Luca.” They’d gotten up from the table, a lit cigar between their fingers. “Women don’t do well under pressure. It’s the hormones.”
The whole table except me and my father laughed. At my expense.
“Tell me, do you bleed?” They’d asked me directly.
My father had erupted then, throwing a glass so quickly no one had a chance to dodge it. It shattered against the man’s head, slicing a clean cut into his face immediately. Blood dripped onto the table, the cigar forgotten and burning a hole in the seventy-thousand-dollar rug under his feet.
“I have made myself clear!” He boomed to the room shocked into silence, “My daughter is none of your concern, and you speak of her like that again and I will castrate you myself and feed you your own cock, do you hear me?”
While there was no unanimous yes, there were nods and hands thrown up in surrender. But the one with the cut looked furious. His eyes had turned dark with hatred, his lips curled in disgust.
I think it was the humiliation that tripped him, sending him into a spiral that he would never find himself out of.
