Reckless & Ruined (35 page)

Two weeks passed in relative silence. Alessa was grateful for the break. She barely noticed the month of September and it was gone already. Joel returned from his unknown trip to Vegas without a word and said nothing about where he had gone when he did get back. He did lock himself in his office for most of that night but Alessa didn’t bother to try and find out why.

Chances were, Joel’s trip hadn’t gone as planned.

He liked to sulk in private like all spoiled men.

At least Adriano had kept Alessa entertained with random texts and quick calls when he got the chance. She figured he was busy though, because every time he called, there seemed to be a lot of noise going on in the background.

“I’m starting to think you’re milking this being shot thing up as much as you can,” Alessa said, teasing her sister.

Abriella sighed dramatically, her face contorting in fake pain. She had situated herself on the couch in the large library with a bowl of ice-cream and a book of poetry. “More ice-cream, Lissa. I demand it! For my poor injured self, I mean.”

Alessa laughed. “You’re practically all better now.” 

She barely managed to dodge the pillow that Abriella threw.

“Don’t make me get off this couch, Alessa,” Abriella warned playfully.

“I’m not getting you anymore ice-cream. That’s your third bowl.”

Abriella pouted. “Damn.”

“But I will go distract Joel with something for at least ten minutes so you can call Tommas and not worry about being interrupted.”

Her sister’s face lit up with joy.

“Yeah?” Abriella asked.

Why not?

Abriella was always covering her Alessa.

“Yeah,” Alessa confirmed.

“I officially love you again.”

Alessa grinned. “Good to know.”

As Abriella pulled out her cell phone, Alessa slipped out of the library. She went in search of Joel, knowing exactly where her brother was. In his office, like usual. Thankfully, Dean had been busy for most of the week and when he had been at the Trentini mansion, he’d been too distracted by kissing Joel’s ass to notice Alessa.

Or notice her still missing ring.

Alessa knocked on her brother’s office door and shoved her one hand in her pocket to hide the missing jewelry. It had become a habit, but she knew sooner or later, someone would catch her little secret.

“Yeah, it’s open,” Joel shouted.

Alessa pushed open the door. Joel sat in a chair with his booted feet propped up on the edge of a desk. He watched a news broadcast. Another one revolving around the Outfit and the newest murder the officials were linking back to the families.

Laurent Rossi’s.

Alessa wondered if her brother killed him, too. Joel’s words that day at the restaurant had certainly gave off the feeling he was pissed at Laurent for missing his mark on Riley.

“What, Alessa?” Joel asked, never taking his eyes off the screen.

“Nothing.”

Joel watched her from the side, but didn’t respond. Alessa watched the newscast with him in silence until Joel had enough and asked, “Do you have a reason to be in here?”

“Nope.”

The phone on the desk rang.

“Then get out, Alessa.”

Not a problem.

Alessa heard her brother’s voice traveling down the hall while she walked away.

“Yeah, that’s not a rumor, we’re opening the books,” Joel said. “But I want it being whispered like one. I’m not sure when. Another week or so, as there are some guys out of town for business. I’m hoping, if the bastard is still alive, that the suggestion of nominations will drive Riley out.”

Alessa knew those words …

Opening the books.

She
knew
them. She shouldn’t, but she wasn’t a fucking idiot.

Opening the books meant someone was going to be nominated to join the family. There was only one man her brother talked about giving the button: Dean.

“Lissa?”

Alessa blinked awake to someone shaking her shoulder and calling her name.

“Yeah?” she asked, her throat dry.

Abriella stared down, curiosity lighting up her familiar blue eyes. “Did you fall asleep in the middle of the afternoon?”

“I must have.”

“Are you doing that a lot lately?” Abriella asked.

“I’m bored as hell in this house doing nothing. You get to go to school and get out of here. I don’t.” Alessa had went on the defensive immediately, even though she knew there was no reason to. Abriella’s question was innocent enough. “Sorry, Ella. I didn’t mean that.”

Abriella kept watching her with that same curiosity as she readjusted the strap of her messenger bag around her shoulder. “It’s okay.”

“You’re home early.”

“I had a headache and called the driver,” Abriella explained.

“Oh.”

“And found you here.”

Alessa pushed up from the couch, feeling like the nap wasn’t nearly enough. “I’m up. What is going on?”

“Dean is in the kitchen. Miss Cathy is making him some food or whatever. I guess he was waiting for you to wake up. Something about a date?”

Alessa cringed. Dean was forcing her to go on dates with him whenever he felt they should.

It’d only been a few days since she learned her brother was getting serious about opening the books to give Dean his button, but it put Alessa on edge. She was trying to get more concrete information on the whole thing before she let Adriano know.

So far, nothing.

“Great,” Alessa muttered, standing from the couch.

“Maybe you can convince Dean to let me tag along.”

Alessa smiled. “Good plan.”

“It’ll keep him from being a dick, anyway.”

Maybe.

Alessa left her sister and found Dean leaning over the island in the large kitchen. He chatted with the cook Miss Cathy until he noticed Alessa in the entryway.

“Princess finally woke up, huh?” he asked.

Alessa might not have been bothered by his words if the sarcasm didn’t ooze from them. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you were coming over.”

Dean lifted a brow high. “Don’t you have anything better to do in the daytime than sleep?”

She chose to ignore his words.

The fluffy, sweet cherry cheese Danishes on the counter called to Alessa. She crossed the space quickly and reached for one of the fresh pastries set out on the wax paper.

She realized her mistake the moment Dean’s eyes narrowed in on her hand, but it was already too late to hide her missing engagement ring.

“Where is it?” Dean asked, his voice going dangerously low.

Alessa snapped her hand out of reach and hid it behind her back. “I—”

“Where is your fucking engagement ring, Alessa?”

Miss Cathy glanced between the two rapidly but said nothing. She really couldn’t say much, not if she wanted to keep her job.

“I just—”

“She was making bread with me yesterday and we lost it in the dough,” Miss Cathy said for Alessa when she couldn’t come up with something. “We tried for hours to find it and ended up throwing out all the dough. She was supposed to help me remake all the bread today for Joel’s party on Monday, but she fell asleep. It was an honest mistake, Mr. Artino.”

Alessa nodded quickly though every word had been a lie. “Yes, the dough. I’m sorry.”

Dean’s eyes flashed with rage. He hid it well enough, but even the way his fists clenched at his sides was enough to tell Alessa he was pissed. Really, really pissed.

“I paid a great deal of money for that ring,” he said quietly.

The memory of having her face slammed into a brick wall ran through Alessa’s mind. She had to placate Dean, or his anger could show and he’d lash out at her physically again.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated.

It was the only thing she could think to say.

Dean reached out and snatched Alessa’s arm so he could see her hand. Without warning, he squeezed her fingers hard enough for her bones to creak. It fucking hurt. She held back the whine but couldn’t hide her flinch.

“I will have you a new one by next week,” Dean said. “I have enough going on this week without you adding to it.”

Alessa swallowed hard. “Okay.”

But it wasn’t. Not at all.

Dean’s fingernails dug into Alessa’s palm, marking her. “And you will not lose the second one. Is that understood?”

“Yes.”

She could practically feel his rage seeping from his hand to hers.

“Let me go, Dean,” Alessa demanded softly. “You’re hurting me.”

He did. Silently, Dean left the kitchen without another look back.

Alessa flipped her hand over. The imprints of Dean’s fingernails had cut into her palm and marked her red. If he’d pushed a little harder, she might have bled. It was probably going to leave bruises.

Tears welled in Alessa’s eyes as her hand throbbed. She couldn’t marry that man. This would be her entire life with him—abuse and fear.

“My God, Alessa,” Miss Cathy whispered.

“I’m okay,” Alessa said, waving the concern off.

She wasn’t okay by any means. If Miss Cathy hadn’t been there, Alessa had a feeling that Dean’s violence would have made another appearance.

Alessa’s stomach finally gave into the fear she had been hiding, rolling with sickness. She barely made it to the garbage can before she was sick and shaking. As she wiped the vomit from her mouth, Alessa decided right then and there that she wouldn’t have to worry about Dean doing this to her again.

Ever.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

A
driano walked into Slips, a sports bar, giving the familiar bouncer a nod as he passed the man. Quickly, he found the man he was looking for sitting at a far booth with his black books spread out, three cell phones resting beside each book, a pen in one hand, and his eye on a flat screen television playing the latest on the Chicago Cubs.

“Ryan,” Adriano greeted as he sat down on the bench across from the man.

Ryan didn’t take his eyes off the screen. Bookies had a way about them. “Skip.”

“What kind of line are we running this week?”

“Twenty-five percent. That’s the only way we’re going to make any fucking money since we’re not working with the DeLuca or Rossi crews currently.”

Adriano scowled at that. For every gambler that wanted to put money down on a game, he had to put an extra twenty-five percent down, too. That way, the bookie for the Conti crew wasn’t losing out, even if he had to pay a lot out. Unfortunately, having high percentage lines on bets meant some gamblers wouldn’t come back.

“And what is the pool looking like?” Adriano asked.

“Seventy-k at the moment,” Ryan informed. “But we’ve got that big game next week. I’ll get the difference made up.”

“Good.”

Ryan finally graced Adriano with his attention. “Don’t you think it’s a little ironic, Adriano?”

“What is that?”

“You’re not even legal to sit in this bar, yet there you are.”

Adriano chuckled. “I’ve been coming here with Kolin since I was sixteen, man.”

“Still, it’s funny. That’s all I’m saying.”

Glancing around the bar, Adriano felt a little uncomfortable. He was firmly tucked into the South side of Chicago, a territory the Conti family had always controlled. But Slips was closer to the far South of Chicago, where they didn’t control. In fact, the DeLuca side of the Outfit controlled the far South. It just made him edgy to be close to another family’s lines when everyone was in a big uproar.

“What has got your panties in a twist?” Ryan asked.

Apparently Adriano’s discomfort wasn’t going unnoticed.

“Nothing, man. Just choose a different joint, would you? Somewhere close to the middle of the South until this shit blows over. Even closer to the Southwest.”

The West and Southwest side of Chicago was mostly controlled by the Rossi crew, although the Contis had been known to slip in on their streets from time to time when it was needed. The Rossi crew was a hell of a lot less likely to cause a ruckus if someone showed face on their side.

“Sure, whatever,” Ryan muttered, going back to the television.

Being a Capo was not as glamourous as it may have looked to the outside. Men worked for years to get their button, and then they hoped and prayed for the chance at an actual position inside the Outfit. Like being a Caporegime was the end all, be all.