Femme Fatale Page 4

  I feel the licks of my past demons begin to beat upon me. They’re vile, decrepit beings, but sometimes I just cannot forget about them. Some days, they hold a power over me that even the threat of my family cannot save me from. Like right now, my surname, my family’s power offers no solace to the callous beings that live within me.

  Zane doesn't respond initially. He just begins to grin. The bastard takes a miniscule step away while his eyes light up with excitement, his lips turning up into a simple grin. He’s about to laugh. The expression – the one before he falls into hysterics – was always one of my favorites.

  "What have I said that's so fucking hilarious?" I ask. I drop my arms and begin crossing them over my chest.

  "You still love me," he states warily. There's nothing but absolute pleasure in his tone. He's not mocking me and my beating heart; he's pleased to hear from us both. "I knew there was a reason I still think of you every time I jerk off."

  "You're a pig," I tell him, and I see he's now taking great enjoyment in my developing anger.

  "Amelia, you were always my best. You were destined to be my best. You told me when we first started dating how I'd become this better person, and you were right. I didn't believe it until one day you were just gone." I see him give a puppy dog expression, his eyes silently pleading with me. “Just, please, Amelia.”

  “You’re going to have to repent more than that, Coglione,” I hiss, insulting him by calling him an ass. It’s handier than anyone thinks, being bilingual, and I know I could do worse, but not right now. I’ll hold my full rage back and make sure I don’t fail at my mission. “I sacrificed so much for you to turn around and do this. Now, you’re back with an apology, thinking I’ll just fall into your arms and call our issues something lame like they were teething problems.”

  “I’d never done love before I met you!” he argues back. There’s a fierceness and a fight I’ve never seen before igniting within him. “Before you, it was all drinking, sex, and work. Then you sauntered in and gave me one smile, and I fell, Amelia. I fell hard, and I took it all for fucking granted. I took you for granted. I’ve tried to find another you, hell a replacement for you, but no one comes remotely close.”

  “I am not the same girl you fell in love with,” I say, preparing myself to let him know exactly who I am now – or what I am.

  He shakes his head, not willing to accept my comment. “You look like the same girl. You sound like her. Amelia, you kiss like her, too!” He looks crazy with love, and I have to admit, I’m pleased he’s seemingly so cut up. “What could possibly have changed in a little over a year?”

  Everything.

  “You wouldn’t believe me!” I snarl at him, unable to hold back anymore. “You want to know what’s changed?” I ask him, and he nods, now wary of what he’s about to learn. “I changed because when you broke my heart I never recovered. I don’t care for anything anymore. I don’t care what my family does or what I do. I don’t fucking care what you do either, and if I’m honest, Zane, the last thing I want to do is give you the opportunity to make round two a lot like round one.”

  As the final words spill and I feel my body shake, I realize that Zane’s inevitable death might well kill me, but tapping into old, torn emotions could do the same. I thought he would be my hardest case because I love him, but locked away in my heart, alongside his memories, are many built-up emotions that I never wanted to face. Those are just as deadly as any poison my brother could ever hand me.

  “Amelia,” Zane whispers as he takes advantage of my pregnant pause.

  “Fuck you!” I tell him and give him a shove, trying to get him away from me.

  "God, you're so damn hot when you're angry," he growls, his actions becoming unbidden and feral.

  “And you’re not so hot when you reek of desperation,” I warn him and roll my eyes. I’m beginning to think I need to go home and tell my father exactly how impossible this job will be. “I don’t have time for this.”

  Zane has other ideas as I look to the entrance of the alley. He steps forward, fully pinning me between his aching body and the hard wall. The look he bestows upon me is heavy with repentance. “Make time.”

  With the deliverance of his words, I’m frozen. I want to make time. I want to give him all the damn time in the world, but I must resist. My demons aren't dormant. They're very much alive. Each clawing away bit by fucking fragile bit and each of them howl one thing - Zane.

  “We said friends,” I pant as the intensity becomes all too overpowering.

  “I know you feel it still,” he remarks. He has a small smirk on his lips as he reads me. “Just give in.” His comment renders me defenseless. “Amelia, just give in. If you feel the same way, then really, we will start again.”

  “I can’t,” I tell him. I feel like such a fraud to my family. I’m supposed to be a strong Abbiati, but I’m not. I never was; it’s all a facade that I dance behind. To everyone else, it’s impenetrable. Everyone except to Zane. He’s my kryptonite.

  Taking a calculated step forward, Zane pins me against the wall once more, but this time I don’t resist. All the voices in my mind scream in horror at what I’m allowing, but I cannot walk away from something I’ve spent countless sleepless nights wishing for. I’m not fully addicted to him - far from it. I can walk away from him whenever I like. I can force my mask back on and leave him behind. I can fight with myself to resist his power over me, but right now, I want to stop denying myself.

  Pushing his head into the confines of my neck, I feel his lips against my skin, dotting delicate kisses that tattoo themselves into my memory. I moan and my head falls back enjoying every caress of his lips, lavishing the touch of his hands as they skim down my body. I hear him muttering against my skin, but I’m so overcome with blissful euphoria that I pay no attention. I don’t even stop as he hitches my skirt up and begins to course over my body, nearing my hot core. He’ll feel how wet I am for him almost immediately, and he’ll know how weak I am for him.

  “No panties,” Zane remarks with a chuckle, pulling away to look up at me. There’s a feral power to him as he pauses, leaving my skin tingling from his touch. “You always did have a thing about panty lines on your ass showing through these tight dresses.” His joke falls flat as he gets closer to his desired destination, and I realize I can’t do this. As he goes to resumes with his intent to get me off in public, I find myself unable to breathe properly.

  I push away, pull the skirt of my dress back down, and force myself from feeling guilty or dirty over what just happened. I quickly lean down, grab my jacket and purse, and flee from the alley. My breathing is still a heavy pant, heaving on each inhale and exhale. As my car comes into sight, I open my clutch and search for my keys beneath the crap I’ve brought with me.

  I’m not given any time, as I’m spun again. Zane pins me against the side of my Ferrari and my jacket falls against the paintwork, trapped by my body being forced against the side of the car. I fight him off and look down, seeing the zipper has taken the paint off. My emotional rollercoaster is about to derail, and I just want to go home and analyze my next strategic step in this game plan – if there are any to take!

  "You scratched my car, you bastardo," I hiss. I'm pissed that I even let him back so easily. I'm a fool. It's now been proven again in my life.

  "I've done worse," he reminds me. “That is just a reminder that I’m scratching the surface. Soon, I’m going to be under your skin and you’ll have to give me another chance.”

  I gulp. There’s only one problem with his plan – he’s always been under my skin, sheltered in the confines of my heart and ebbing life into my soul.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  "The Femme Fatale strikes again," Enzo announces as I walk into the grand living room. The paintwork here much like the dining room, but he does nothing to calm me.

  I glower toward him, who in return just laughs at me. "Don't test my patience with that name."

  "Oh, someone is mighty touchy today," he continue
s to ruthlessly, teasing me. "What corpse got under your skin?"

  "The one that's still a heartbeat away from being called a corpse," I growl and slump into one of the chairs. I'm furious that I allowed Zane to get so far into my veins that I am now recklessly listening to my heart.

  Zane and I love like we're a drug. We become insatiably addicted at a rapid speed. I feel myself crave him, and even after all this time, I'm still excited to see him. I don't even mind just standing in the same room as him. I just need him. It's how we love - with considerable hunger. He might be my victim, but I am well and truly his.

  That's a sorry state of affairs to be caught in.

  "Lia, what's wrong?" Enzo breaks into my reverie and I look up at him. I can feel my eyes trapped in a wide stare, frightened to admit the truths that trouble me. "Dad and Gio are out on business. What's wrong?" he prompts after my silence.

  "I still love him, Enz," I mutter miserably and try to cuss away the tears. "It’s been over a year, and I am still as in love with him as I was when he kicked me down. How do I kill him?" I ask and find my heart begin to pound with the dilemma. “He got me exactly how he used to and there was a moment that I truly believed the last year had never happened.” I give a small smile as I remember those happier times. “He says he still loves me, that he regrets ever leaving me, and I almost fell for it because I still stupidly love him.” My rambling doesn’t stop there. “If I don’t kill him, my father will disown me, and Zane is bound to when he finds out what I am. But if I kill him, then I will lose him forever.”

  “It is a predicament, but if he loves you he’ll forgive you for what you’ve been forced into,” Enzo comments. He’s always been quick to clear my mind of uncertainties, to sway my negatives toward a positive route, and to always make me see things how I refuse to. “And if Zane is like he used to be, then damn girl, you’ve met your soul mate. You’re the luckiest of us trapped here. You found your match, and I think Papà knows that. So take it slow and I’ll deal with the consequences. This is no ordinary hit.” I look at my eldest brother and feel appreciation wander through me. He might have been the one who’s seen it all, killed more than he wishes to count, and sits as the top heir to our father’s throne, but he’s the one who understands how much myself and Manuel are being pressured into doing in order to keep some sort of top ranking in our father’s eyes. “And didn’t Papà say that Zane was looking into some of his business? Wasn’t that a reason for Papà to get you to kill him?” I nod my head. “Well then, Zane will have some understanding of what our father’s capable of. Play this at your rate, Amelia.”

  “What...get a tiny piece of my forever and then kill it off?” I ask him dryly. I’m striving to find the funny side of this fate I’ve been given even though I could cry at the horror story I have to create. “Papà thinks I’m some heartless woman who kills because men do wrong to her father, but I’m not. I do it because I’m scared of what will happen if I don’t. I kill because I want my father to forever believe I am the perfect Abbiati daughter and no one can come close.” I sigh, hating myself for the bare truth of my own existence. I don’t live for myself. I live for Salvatore Abbiati – I live only because of him. “But if I kill Zane, I won’t recover.”

  “That was quite well done,” my father’s praising ignites in the air as the doors to the living room fly open. Mine and Enzo’s conversation goes to the side for a later date. “Your brother here managed to keep our business intact and kill three snitches.” He doesn’t say hello, just grabs two crystal glasses, and pours out whiskey into them both. He passes one to Giovanni and takes a gulp of his own. “You deserve that one, son.”

  “Good kill?” Enzo pipes up, giving Giovanni a head nod of appreciation.

  “I was only standing guard when I heard them all talking. I didn’t even think,” Giovanni begins to gloat. “God, it was amazing. It was actually exhilarating to take charge like that.”

  “How’s the Maverick case going?” my father asks. He falls into his old faithful armchair and ignores Giovanni’s triumphant speech. “Am I any closer to hearing music to my ears?”

  “No, sorry,” I apologize and look up with hope my father isn’t looking at me with utter disappointment. When I look, he gives me an encouraging wink. “I met up with him earlier, and well, it’s a lot harder than I had ever first thought.”

  My father waves away my concerns by giving me a small smile. “Well, Bambina, Rome wasn’t built in a day, but I just don’t expect you to spend an eternity killing a man I could have dead by sundown.”

  “Let me kill him,” Giovanni bargains, cracking his knuckles. “He won’t be breathing by the stroke of midnight if I got my hands on him. I don’t care about him. No need to worry about emotions fogging what my true job is.”

  “You are not doing it,” I immediately retort, taking the opportunity away from him. I know Giovanni sees me as incapable, and at times, I see myself that way too, but Zane is too close to my heart for Giovanni to step in and literally rip his heart out of his chest cavity.

  “Amelia, you’re fucking in love with the man! Tell us, please, how the fuck you think you’ll ever be able to kill him when you think with your heart and not your head.” Just to annoy me further, Giovanni points his left index fingers and gives me a sharp jab into my chest, right above my heart. “You’re a weak Abbiati. You should be ashamed of failing this one job.”

  “So weak, I’ve killed twice the men you have,” I observe sarcastically and snigger. “Yeah, I’m fucking weak, Gio.”

  “You don’t really get involved in the gritty grisly deaths, though, do you?” Giovanni states dryly.

  “Their hearts all stop beating the same. It’s kind of the only conclusion to death. They’re all ending up at the same destination. Just because you prefer bloodshed doesn’t give it much difference!” I can feel my blood boiling with agitation, and I want to scream at Giovanni. He probably still wouldn’t even get the idea in his head. “So, get it out of your head now – you are not killing Zane Maverick.”

  “I’m in agreement with your brother, Amelia.” My father stands back up, setting his glass down on the side. I look at him disbelievingly. “I imagined this case to take you by surprise, but you’re delaying the inevitable now, Bambina.” He comes over to where we’re standing. “All you’ve got to do is pop some poison in a drink and serve it to him. Hell, pin him down and drown him with it. Amelia, I don’t care how you do it, just do it.”

  “She loves him,” Giovanni points out. “Ergo, she won’t be able to do it.”

  “Princess, he broke your heart. This is the time to get even and break him in the best way you know how to.” I cringe at my father’s reference to death as if it’ll be a simple crack in Zane’s heart like the multiple he caused to burst into mine. “Kill him and I’ll allow you to take a break.”

  “Kill him and you might stay in Daddy’s good graces.” Giovanni strikes up, taking the opportunity to use my own comments against me. “Or, let me, and you don’t have to kill the only man who will ever love you and your cold heart.”

  “I think Giovanni’s onto something.” My father’s hand comes up to my arm as he begins to release me from my duties. “Let your brother take care of this one.”

  “Shut up!” I bellow, my voice hard and barely shaken by anger. “Zane is my hit. I will kill him as I so please, but I cannot and I will not treat him like any other man you’ve had me kill.” Zane isn’t another victim to my family’s name. He’s a victim to my love. “And you,” I say and point to my father, “need to realize that I love him, so unlike you with Mom, I cannot just kill him and not think twice!” The moment I say that comment leaves my mouth, I regret it. Even more so when I notice my father’s eyes darken. “I don’t care if this takes me two weeks or two months, I need to do this. He is mine. Not yours, not Gio’s, but mine.”

  “Then you continue to kill other men while I wait for news Maverick is dead because I fear it’ll take far longer than two months.” My father�
��s deal is offered with spite. He hates to have to negotiate with anyone – family means no exception.

  “Fine,” I exhale, happy with that compromise. I go to leave, but my father grips my wrist and traps it at such an angle I fear he’s about to break it. “Papà,” I hiss in pain as I fight for freedom from his grasp on me.

  “You dare bring up your mother’s death to me again,” he begins to snarl, and I interject him immediately.

  “What? Bring up the fact that you strangled the life out of her, you mean?” I ask him. He’s already hurting me, but I’m past the point of trying to keep calm over this. “I might do your job for you and I might remember how it was all too easy for you to kill her, but I’m not you. I might have your genes and your name, but I have her heart. The one she fucking loved you with!”

  My father releases me only to slap the back of his hand over my cheek. The powerful swipe sends me falling, and I land upon the floor with a heavy thump. I look up at him in horror and his look matches mine. I reach to my cheek and feel the heat of his strike. I can’t believe my father lost his cool so quickly that he lashed out at me.

  “Amelia.” Enzo is by my side in seconds, helping me up. As my father approaches, apologetic, Enzo puts his hand up to stop him. “I think you’ve said and done enough on this matter. I’ve told you before you never lay a damn finger on her!”

  “We need to discuss this,” my father comments and tries to smooth over what he just did to me, even though my cheek is burning and the pain radiates across my face. “We need to discuss Zane Maverick. I need to know the job will be done.”

  “Okay, let me tell you how this will go. Zane is mine.” My comment is bitten into with conviction and hatred and I care for nothing but giving my father a piece of my feisty attitude to appease him. “I will kill him when I’m ready. Leave it up to me. It’s my job.”