Money laundering? Yes. Illegal gambling? Yes. Selling guns, drugs, fixing races, extortion, blackmail, etc. Yes, yes, yes. And that slimeball was somehow acquitted every single time, lending credence to Juliana’s insistence that the Bellantis have law enforcement in their pockets. But never has there been even ahintof trafficking, running brothels, or even being associated with escort services. I would have foundsomethingwhile I was up all night searching on my phone, battling a combination of insomnia and post-booze vertigo.
Juliana’s story just doesn’t hold water.
I’ve always trusted everything my best friend has told me. But apparently, the entire time I’ve been handing over information about the Bellantis, jumping into the fire for her, risking life and limb to do the right thing, she’s been spinning a web of lies.
It’s certainly possible that she was lying unintentionally—that her uncle Sergio has been lying to her all along, brainwashing her so completely that she never even thought to question his stories. Just like I never thought to question my supposed best friend. Except…it’s hard to believe Juliana is just another innocent victim when she’s been actively involved in some shady-sounding international business dealings with a Russian. A man she openly admitted was pretty rough. Who is, in all likelihood, a mobster. Who she now intends to marry.
Which is interesting, considering the fact that she has no trouble going out of her way to smear Armani for being in the mob. I guess it’s perfectly fine for her to marry a criminal, but the one I’m with is the devil and has to be destroyed at all costs. It’s also suspicious as all get-out that she never breathed the slightest mention of this guy to me before. Is it because she knew I wouldn’t approve? Or because she thought I’d try to talk her out of it? Or did he really just pop up out of nowhere and she’s just decided to throw caution to the wind? I don’t get it. There’s no excuse for her shifty behavior.
There’s only one thing that makes sense to me about any of this—Juliana’s prejudice against the Bellantis is rooted in the sad reality that they killed her parents. However, this was decades ago, so it was the work of Enzo Bellanti. A man I know very little about, except for what I gathered from the news articles I read and the bits and pieces of stories Armani has shared. I have no doubt that the former Bellanti boss was a tyrant. Violent, abusive, ruthless, egotistical. The list could go on. The point is, yes, Juliana may have every right to believe the Bellantis are pure evil.
But is it fair to lay the sins of the father upon his children?
I don’t think so. Not at all, in fact.
Especially when those children have tried so hard to get out from under his shadow.
Has Juliana let her biases against the Bellantis cloud her judgement to the point where she’s never considered that her uncle might be lying to her about the crimes that Armani and his brothers are allegedly involved in? Or has she been in cahoots with Sergio all along? What does she get out of any of this? Revenge? Power? Her uncle’s approval? Is it a money thing?
Over the years, she’s detailed plenty of heinous crimes that the Bellanti family has been involved in. So when Sergio asked Juliana to recruit me as a spy, it seemed like a no-brainer. The few times I met him, I thought her uncle was intimidating—and he definitely had a devious air—but Jules vouched for her uncle and I quickly agreed to help them take down their enemies. I had no reason to question the stories I’d been told about the Bellantis.
As far as I was concerned, the tales of the Bellantis’ misdeeds had real weight, simply because I’d been hearing them for so long. Every time Juliana had a few drinks, she’d relay the latest sordid stories about what they had done recently. The Bellantis were behind the influx of fentanyl-laced drugs circulating in Northern California, responsible for the deaths of hundreds. The Bellantis were selling cheap weapons to African warlords. If a local restaurant or boutique went out of business, it was because they’d refused to pay the Bellantis protection money. A local politician got caught up in a sex scandal? The Bellantis were the ones who’d framed them. Meth lab explosion? It was the Bellantis’ lab.
She rarely mentioned the same misdeed twice. It seemed like she had something new to report every time she went off on one of her diatribes. And I rarely pushed back. The few times that I did, she’d turn her anger toward me for questioning her. I learned to simply be the sympathetic ear she needed.
Now, I just feel like a fool.
My best friend isn’t who I thought she was.
Guilt pangs inside my chest. After all we’ve been through together, and all the help she’s given me over the years, it feels traitorous to think of her in anything other than a glowing light. Yet…how can I trust her anymore? I’ve been played.
Juliana pushed me into agreeing to spy on Armani for her uncle. She encouraged me to sleep with a Bellanti, to move into the Bellantis’ estate, to dive right into the vipers’ nest, just to get information. And when I’d texted her to let her know about my surprise elopement in Vegas, she’d been over the moon. Not because she was excited about me getting married, but because she was thrilled to learn that I’d made so much progress weaseling my way into Armani’s life, while simultaneously reminding me that I needed to gather more intel. To do more, more, more.
Despite the danger, nothing I did during my time as a mole was good enough for her, for them. It didn’t even matter that I’d legally bound myself to a mobster, possibly for the rest of my life. I doubt if that even crossed Juliana’s mind. Her best friend had sacrificed herself for the “cause,” and she was totally fine with it.
Now? I’m not even sure anymore what the cause is.
There are plenty of other things bothering me, as well. Like, why hadn’t she told me about her Russian fiancé before the sudden engagement announcement? We used to tell each other everything, and immediately. She’d call me with the smallest bit of news, no matter how trivial. Yet she didn’t let on about this marriage deal until she was already preparing to sign on the dotted line. And I don’t believe it was sprung on her so quickly that she didn’t have time to tell me beforehand. What is she hiding?
Despite the warmth of the water, I shiver.
My head is pounding, and it’s not just from the alcohol. All these doubts and suspicions have my head spinning. I don’t have any answers. All I have are hundreds of questions, circling each other in my mind nonstop like a dog relentlessly chasing its tail.
I hate this.
I sip my tea, which has gone cold. Sliding my sunglasses on top of my head, I look out the window. It’s raining, and hard. Fat droplets smack against the glass, driven by the wind. Tree branches bend and sway, their leaves flying around from the force of the storm. A perfect match for my mood.
With a shiver, I sink deeper under the water. There’s an ache at my core that’s both delicious and sore, and I recall how rough Armani was with me last night. As if he was desperate to mark me, reclaim me as his own, ensure that I gave myself to him wholly and with complete loyalty.
Obviously, I loved every second of it.
He had reason to be upset with me, to banish me from the bedroom, from his life. The accusations that I made clearly triggered him, and not in a way that I expected. He’d been shocked, angry, incredulous. Not only that, but also…hurt. Wounded.
But he didn’t send me away. He defended himself and his family. Because it mattered to him that I stood there and listened to what he had to say. All of that just doesn’t strike me as the reaction of a guilty man. And in my heart, I have no lingering doubts. Mafia family or no, the Bellantis live by their own code, and that code says they won’t be involved in anything to do with the skin trade.
I think through my time with Armani, the things he’s revealed about his family and himself that began to change my beliefs about them. I’d been groomed to see the Bellantis as the enemy, but the tug-of-war started when I realized that Armani is the man that he is for a reason. To protect what he loves, at all costs. It’s just like the trifecta of Italian words that he has tattooed across his chest:famiglia,onore,forza. Family, honor, power. These are the things that Armani holds dear.
Swallowing hard, I get out of the tub and wrap myself in my robe.
