Scorned Obsession (Scorned Fate)

Scorned Obsession: Chapter 23



Sandro left with Gian around six this morning. I packed them frittata to go. I’d been reeling from the revelations of the past few days, especially the bombshell Sandro had dropped last night. It made me reevaluate all our interactions. His reluctance to be with me. He felt unworthy because the blood of a rapist ran in his veins. The story that circulated was that Sandro’s mom was Carmelo’s mistress, who became pregnant.

The tenderness between my thighs reminded me of the ferocity with which Sandro devoured me. And, oh God, his monstrous cock. He was long and girthy… Was I frightened? Maybe. Was I turned on? Hell yes.

I’d moved on from being the sheltered daughter of Ava and Cesar De Lucci into being the wife of Alessandro Rossi, mafia don and former assassin. Extreme circumstances forced us into our roles, but after struggling with how to survive this, our paths became clear.

Sandro needed to step up permanently as the boss. I needed to step up as his wife.

If Gian was telling the truth, then someone was capitalizing on Raffa’s revenge against Dad, hoping for an all-out war between the De Luccis and the Rossis. That it involved both sides of my family made me even more determined to find out who was behind these malicious hits.

The lack of news about Jabbin’ Java was making me antsy. I was consoling myself that no one was hurt and I could be patient a while longer. But Divina was driving me crazy.

She arrived around six thirty this morning. It was as if she was waiting for the men to leave. There was pumped-up security and new faces. No Rossi soldiers. I wasn’t sure whether Sandro still mistrusted them or it was because the family was stretched too thin. After all, Sandro took out eight of them.

Sloane arrived at nine but was in the study removing the last traces of that bloody day. Divina and I hung out in the living room with a regular TV for company and we were on our second pot of coffee. She kept scrolling on her phone, and I kept side-eyeing her. It would be so simple to find out what was going on with Tommy.

“Do you want me to call Dom and ask about Tommy?” I asked casually. When Sandro came back from his business with the Toronto Albanians, we were going to have a serious chat about seeing my family. I had an odd feeling that he was still keeping something from me, but my husband had so much on his mind, I didn’t want him distracted.

She glanced up from her phone and I saw the war in her eyes. “What are the consequences, though?”

“To me? To us? To Tommy?”

“Everything.”

“From what I can tell, the Rossi crime family is experiencing a monumental shift. Even if Sandro says Raffa has lost his influence, it’s still too soon to tell if it will last. And without Tommy, he’s short an underboss.”

I hated that Gian was the one accompanying him to see the Albanians.

I flipped through the channels, trying to find more news about the café, but with the limited access, all I got were cooking shows. “Is there any news on the Manhattan Tattler? Can you at least give me that?”

“Yes, that’s the only one reporting,” Divina said. “Nothing new.”

“Have they made connections between the Rossis and De Luccis?”

“There are some comments, but I think one of the popular discussion boards is talking about the coincidence of the club fire and the Jabbin’ Java incident. They haven’t mentioned you.”

“Because I’m low-key. Except that time of the fashion show.” But most of social media had their eyes on Nico and Ivy then. “How about Ivy’s socials?”

“She hasn’t mentioned it, but she has been asked in one of her posts.”

I had a feeling they were up to something. The last thing I wanted was a retaliation. I was sure grabbing Tommy was part of the plan to find out about me.

Divina surged up from the couch. “I can’t take this waiting around.”

“Calm down.”

She burst into tears. “It’s easy for you to say. It’s not your husband who’s being held hostage.”

The irony.

“Imagine how my parents and family feel.”

Her breath caught and she had the grace to look ashamed. “I’m sorry.” She looked around her. “There must be something we can do.”

Desperate times, desperate measures. And I wasn’t above using Divina to end this bullshit. I checked the clock. The meeting with the Albanians was around nine or ten. Sandro should already be there and there was no distracting him now.

“There is, but I need you to fully be on board with this.”

She stopped crying long enough to ask, “What?”

“This is an abomination.” Sloane cringed. “Do you know how much this cost?”

The four of us—Sticks, Sloane, Divina, and I—were staring at the coffee stain on what I realized later was an authentic Persian rug. “I didn’t think Sandro was into collecting these.”

“He got that as payment from someone who owed him money,” Sticks said. “A boatload of money.”

“How much?” I asked, not with a little dread.

“Two hundred Gs.”

“What?” Divina and I exchanged looks. Maybe we should have picked a cheaper rug to ruin. But the living room was the quickest route to the side exit of the house away from the bunkhouse.

“Sloane is here, so it’s not a problem,” I quipped instead.

“I don’t know, Bianca.” Sloane squatted and studied the roughly two-foot-diameter stain. “I don’t want to make it worse.” She picked up the edge of the carpet and ran her fingers several times over the back. “This is an antique.”

“I won’t hold you liable,” I said. “I’ll sign anything.”

“If you all don’t need me,” Sticks said, backing out of the room. “I’ll go back outside.”

Despite my costly actions, I laughed. “Don’t worry, I don’t think Sandro intended for you to be responsible for my housebreaking.”

He waved me off.

When we heard the front door close, Sloane stood. “This is a nutty plan.” I’d already briefed her on my scheme so she wouldn’t contradict me on anything in front of Sticks. “But I love it.”

“Is it really hard to remove the stain?” I asked.

“I can remove it. The question is the damage it will leave on the carpet.” Then she winked. “Just kidding. But the cleaning foam, brush, and a lot of patience should do the job. But I’m more interested in the other plan.”

The other plan meaning escaping the house that had been my prison for over two weeks. Why not just wait it out?

Because another day of Divina’s anxiety might drive me over the edge.

And I wasn’t waiting around for Dad or Dom to execute a retaliation. Desperate times and all that. What if they acted out of character and only escalated the problem?

Forgive me, Sandro.

Forty-five minutes later, I was climbing into the back of Sloane’s van. She parked it in a blind spot to the surveillance cameras. Divina was keeping watch from the foyer and told me Sticks was in the bunkhouse.

Sloane joked she could roll me in a carpet and load me into the van using a hand truck. I didn’t tell her I wouldn’t oppose such an idea as a last resort.

“Now is the time to say no,” she said with her hand on the door.

“What the fuck!” Sticks’s voice boomed from behind us.

“Shit,” Sloane muttered and moved aside, leaving me in full view of Sticks with a worried Divina scampering after him.

His face was etched in disbelief, and I could say he was angry. I’d seen his resting dick face at the club when he intimidated entitled patrons, and right now, his scary-bouncer mode had been activated.

Sloane stepped in front of him. There was something in her hand.

“Move aside,” Sticks growled.

“Sorry, Sticks,” Sloane said and zapped him with a stun gun.

My mouth dropped open when Sticks went down like a pile of bricks.

I jumped out of the van, worried. “He might have a concussion.”

“Oh my God, Sloane,” Divina shrieked. “What did you do?”

Without answering her friend, Sloane went to the van and grabbed two rolls of duct tape, tossing one to me. “Bind his legs.”

I didn’t hesitate. She tipped Sticks on his chest and stood-straddled over his body to bind his wrists behind his back.

When Sticks was coming around, Sloane tore off a piece of tape and plastered it on his mouth.

“This is not your first rodeo, is it?” I asked.

I finished rolling the duct tape around Sticks’s ankles.

Sloane shrugged.

“Why are you helping us?” I should be suspicious. What if Sloane was working for whoever was causing trouble between the two families?

“Look, you can either trust me or stay here. In either case, I’m screwed because I went along with your plans for escape.”

“I’m in your debt and you know I’ll feel guilty if they take it out on you.”

“I’m helping Divina. And maybe you could put in a good word for me with the De Luccis.”

Sticks started writhing on the ground and mumbling, probably cursing, behind the tape. If his eyes were lasers, Sloane would be incinerated.

“Decide. Because when I leave, your best chance of seeing your family”—Sloane looked at Divina—“goes with me.”

“You’re crazy,” Divina said, climbing into the van. “But I love you.”

“Love you too, girlie.”

“Well, hell, this is it for sure,” I grumbled. “Sorry, Sticks, I’ll be sure you get freed when we’re clear.”

Sloane didn’t dramatically screech out of here, but went the regular normal speed.

“Good. No one seems to be around. And there are only guards at the entrance to the driveway during the evening. I didn’t see any today.”

“They have perimeter sensors,” I told her. “Once you leave the driveway, they’ll be alerted.”

“Yes. But they won’t see anything, so keep your heads down.”

“Unless someone tries to contact Sticks.”

The van started rocking. I knew we’d reached the long unpaved driveway. Sloane sped up. “It’s a bouncy ride back there.”

“So where is this property, exactly?”

Sloane told me the area was around an hour from Manhattan.

Wow, okay. I could just imagine all the round trips Sandro took if his business was in Manhattan or New Jersey.

“The Rossi mansion in Scarsdale is being watched, according to Tommy. That is why it’s abandoned for now. Sandro is proposing to put it up for sale,” Divina said.

“But it’s been in the Rossi family for decades,” I replied.

“Yes, but the family needs more liquidity.”

“How bad are the finances?”

“Tommy is tight-lipped,” Divina said. “Sandro is in way better shape. He minded his business in Harlem and didn’t do crazy shit like Frankie and Joe. So it’s a good thing he has separate accounting from the family. Speaking of which, Tommy also said the Rossi accountant might be embezzling.”

I heard Tommy and Sandro talking about it, too.

“You’re handling Sandro’s books. Why don’t you handle the family’s?”

Divina shrugged. “No one suggested it, except you.”

“I like you,” Sloane told me. “You get shit done.”

“Or have shit blow up in our faces.” The two of us laughed. Divina looked ready to throw up. Maybe it was the rocking in the van, but I was sure it was because for the first time since marrying into the Rossis, she was going against a boss’s wishes.

I grabbed her hand. “Don’t worry. This won’t blow back on you. You’ll be an unwilling accomplice. After all, it was Sloane who stunned Sticks. You didn’t even take part in tying him up.”

“We can say we kidnapped you at stun-gun point⁠—”

“Stop it,” Divina cut her off. “I’m sick and tired of being the follower and playing it safe.” She glanced at me and Sloane. “Both of you are rubbing off on me.”

Sloane and I laughed again.

“Not sure the guys will be pleased with that,” I said. “Are one of you being tracked on the phone?”

Sloane tossed her phone to the back of the van. “Turn it off and take out the sim.”

And keep our fingers crossed.

The drive to Manhattan was smooth, but rife with trepidation. I noticed Sloane kept checking the side mirrors. Both of us continued to keep Divina entertained and unworried about the consequences of our actions. It was obvious that she had done nothing this wild in her life. With the few days I’d spent with her, she was the quiet and bookish one in her family. The obedient daughter.

Sloane was the opposite, but maybe that was why they were best friends. They tried to look at what was missing in the life of the other.

Although I didn’t think Sloane was wild by choice. She was opportunistic, and sharp, and maybe it was because she was dealt the bad cards in her life, shouldering the debts of her family. With a brother constantly getting in trouble with gangs, she was constantly bailing him out. Plus, she’d mentioned a relative needing senior care. At least that was what I’d gleaned from the snippets of our conversations and why she was doing this.

When the familiar Manhattan skyline came into view, tears sprung to my eyes, and a pressure sat in my chest, making it hard to breathe. The agony of how much I missed my family came roaring back along with my hatred for the Rossis. For two weeks, they held me prisoner, cut off from the people I loved. I’d never been more impatient with New York traffic, but there was something comforting about being stuck in the hustle and bustle after being trapped in a quiet country house.

I needed the city.

Finally, the van coasted onto Twelfth Avenue and we were ten minutes away. I glanced at Divina. Her head was down, staring at her turned-off phone as if willing it to come to life.

“We’re almost there,” I said.

She glanced up with unmistakable fear in her eyes. “You think Tommy will be okay? They never sent proof of life.”

I tried to find the words to tell her. It could go either way. My family was ruthless, but calculating. Killing Tommy Scavo made little sense. “They have the underboss of the Rossi crime family. They wouldn’t damage him too much without getting the information they needed.”

She dropped her head again, but a suppressed sob escaped her.

“Cut it out, Divina,” Sloane snapped. “You’re being unfair to Bianca. You’re mafia for Chrissakes.”

I really, really liked Sloane, but a crack began to appear in my excitement to see my family. The price that would come with it. Would Sandro think I betrayed him? Would that show him where my loyalty was?

I shoved him out of my mind. I would not let my guilt taint my reunion with family.

Heavy traffic met us again on the turn into Forty-Ninth Street.

“I walked by the café yesterday after it was sprayed with bullets,” Sloane said.

“You didn’t tell me that.”

“Duh, because you would’ve asked endless questions. It was crawling with hot dudes in suits and in cool military gear. Surprisingly, the cops didn’t stay very long.”

When she didn’t add more, I pressed. “And?”

“There was a gal I recognized from the Manhattan Tattler that was being a nuisance.”

A sour taste coated my tongue. “Romero.”

“Yes, that one.”

“She has a hard-on for the New York Five Families.”

“I hate her,” Divina muttered.

“Same here.” She ambushed Sera and Matteo on their date. She left Nico and Ivy alone, probably because Ivy wasn’t mafia.

The vehicle finally made the turn onto the street where The Grindhouse building was located. I could barely keep myself from getting out of the van because running toward the café would be faster than the crawl of vehicles. We were hitting Hell’s Kitchen at high noon and were running into the lunchtime crowd.

We were a block away when I spotted Nico. He wasn’t in a suit, but was in fatigue-colored cargo pants and a black tee. Standing beside him was Trevor, who was similarly attired. There was no question they were assessing building security. Their heads were huddled together and they were staring at the café, which I didn’t have a clear view of yet.

“I’ll drop you girls here and find parking,” Sloane said. “A van stopping right in front of the building isn’t a good idea right now.”

I dragged in a deep breath before I passed out.

“Ready?” I asked Divina.

I shoved open the door and the early October air filled my lungs with the freedom that had eluded me.

I jumped out of the van and resisted the urge to run. Divina was behind me, but at that moment, my focus zeroed in on the dearly familiar form of my brother.

“Deartháir.” Emotions clogged my throat, and the endearment came out as a ragged whisper. We were at the street corner and too far for them to hear me anyway.

Trevor saw me first. I could almost see his mouth form, “Holy fuck.”

Nico’s body whipped around, stiffening and alert like he was about to be ambushed, and then he was moving.

Toward me.

I ran.

Toward him.

I was bawling and mumbling sorry over and over again.

“Bianca.” His voice cracked hoarsely, just as I hit his body at full tilt.

His arms surrounded me. He lifted me and buried his face in my hair.

I was home.


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