Then he slammed his study door in my face and I didn’t dare open it.
He sounded angrier and more disappointed than I’d ever seen him.He looked like I’d mortally wounded him.And he sounded like there was no forgiveness to be had.
My mom told me to leave it, to go change into something more appropriate and get some sleep, and I simply obeyed her.Not the sleep part.That won’t come.
Every time I close my eyes, everything starts spinning and I see my dad’s face, dark bags under his eyes, hair out of place because he didn’t comb it properly, or because he’d been tugging on it all night, his tie askew, his shirt wrinkled, a brown stain on the front of it.He looked like things are ending, that’s the only way I can describe it.My father, the head of one of the most powerful families in New York, always in control, always looking picture perfect, looked totally disheveled.Like he was on his knees.And I caused it.
Dawn is breaking in the distance, behind the low houses on the other side of the river.Just a glow of white slowly turning yellow, slowly growing.I reach under my bed and pull out the bottle of vodka I keep hidden there and take a swig, then another, and a third.As I knew it would, the alcohol makes the room spin worse.But I’d hoped it wouldn’t, I hoped it would take the edge off, make me stop thinking these heart-wrenching thoughts of endings and things crumbling to dust.
Just like Matteo’s life.He’s probably dead by now.And all I see in my mind is his bright, beautiful face, so full of light and life, with a glow I’d never seen on a man’s face before.It’s all glowing so much brighter now in my memories, because it most likely doesn’t glow at all anymore in real life.Because he’s dead.Killed by my father for daring to save me and spend all of fifteen minutes with me without permission or supervision.
My curse has blossomed, extended beyond just men I’m engaged to, encompassing all men I connect with.Pretty soon it’ll be all men in my life.Maybe my brother fell victim to it too.Maybe my father is next.No one is safe.
If I could find the witch who laid this curse on me, I’d strangle her with my bare hands.
But that wouldn’t be enough to lift the curse.
It wouldn’t be enough to change the past.
Nothing can save me.
I drift off to sleep with those thoughts swirling like shadows all around me, spinning as the room spins, swallowing me in their cursed darkness.Where I belong.
Chapter8
MATTEO
The skyoutside Nico’s penthouse is just starting to turn a pale gold, the light fighting the night’s darkness, looking like it’s not gonna win.Even though I know it must, I still think that today it might not.The last thing I wanted when I came to New York was to enter another position of servitude at the lowest rung.But that’s exactly what has now happened.I spent years being at the bottom, existing only for everyone to shit on when they pleased.
Sure, with Dante I had no chance of ever rising anywhere and here I might.But it’s gonna take years, and I don’t got years.I’m pushing 33, I need my revenge, and I don’t have the time to dally around, sucking up to an old man while he decides if I’m worth keeping or not.I’m probably not.I’m done working for others.I either get my own back, or I die.
As I suspected, there must’ve been quite a party in here after Nico brought the two girls home.The living room still smells of alcohol—whiskey and margaritas for the ladies, going by the mess they left in the kitchen.The glass coffee table is frosted over with white powder as though the living room got a little snowfall during the night and clothes are strewn all over the place, including a shiny red stiletto shoe hanging off the chandelier.
To each their own, I guess.
But the problem is, the three of them are probably passed out in Nico’s room and I need to raid his closet again, because I need to show up forworkin less than an hour.
Fucking work!And starting at the crack of dawn.On no sleep.The worst.
“You just getting in?”Nico asks in a hoarse voice behind me as I tinker with the espresso machine in the kitchen, hoping it’s like every other and I’m pressing the right buttons.
He’s wearing a thick, black monogrammed robe and probably nothing underneath.Last night’s festivities seem to have aged him by about ten years, the skin on his face sallow and sort of hanging off his cheeks.
“Yeah,” I say and make way for him by the sink so he can pour himself a huge glass of water which he then chugs down like he just got back from a week spent crawling in the desert.
Meanwhile my double espresso brews and the smell of it lifts my spirits just a little.The first sip a little more.
“So you hooked up with someone, or what?”he asks, leaning against the sink, cradling his glass of water.
“You could say that,” I say and finish my espresso, then immediately start another.
“Do say more,” he says.“Although you could’ve just come home with the three of us.Brittney and Lia are very talented.And insatiable.”
I assume he’s talking about the two women he brought home.I didn’t actually remember their names last night.
“My hook-up was with Victor Codelli,” I say and pause for effect during which he gasps dramatically just as he should.“I saved his daughters from some Russians, and he gave me a job.”
Nico is still recovering from the shock, his face slack and his eyes wide.The amount of coke and alcohol he consumed last night must make it hard to process information.It’s why I won’t touch either until my mission is done.Although now that it’s been bumped back by a decade at least, while I do the Capo’s bidding, I might as well let loose.
