Destructive King (Mafia Royals 3) - Page 5

“But, Dad—”

“No ‘but Dads.’” He jabbed his finger at me. “Consider your atonement finished only as long as she gets back to this house without looking like she’s been crying. You don’t deserve to breathe next to her, let alone be the reason for her tears.”

“You do realize I’m your son, right?” I sneered.

He grabbed me by the shirt and shoved me against the nearest wall. His smile was cruel. “My son died that day; I’ve yet to see him return.”

Slitting my throat would have hurt less.

We stared each other down.

The room was heavy with tension.

Sick with sadness.

God, when would it finally end?

“That was a low blow, even for you, Sen…a…tor.” I drew out the title, knowing he hated it—especially coming from his only son.

His eyes flashed. “Baiting me won’t make you feel better, believe me.” He shoved me back against the wall, then adjusted his tie and cracked his neck. The tats on his hands seemed to come alive with warning as he moved like he wanted me to know he would punch his own son in hopes of knocking some sense into him.

“Fine.” I looked away so I wouldn’t see the disappointment in his eyes. “I’ll take the Tesla, as much as it pains me to admit, it’s faster than the Lambo.”

He let out a snort. “Never let Tex hear you say that.”

“I think he wept the day an electric sedan beat his sports car.” I sighed and then went over to my dresser to grab a T-shirt.

“It will get easier,” Dad whispered. “One day. Not today, not tomorrow, I don’t know when, but one day, you won’t feel like you’re in purgatory.”

“I don’t feel like I’m in purgatory, Dad…” I looked over my shoulder. “I feel like I’m reliving Hell.”

His eyes softened for a minute before he gave me a nod and then turned around and left.

I kicked my dresser a few times before finally pulling a long-sleeve black tee over my head then grabbing my wallet and cell phone.

One thing I was one hundred percent certain about?

Annie was going to shit a brick that enemy number one was picking her up—which to a masochist like me? Had me smiling the entire drive to the airport.

Chapter Two

Time is too slow for those who wait, Too swift for those who fear, Too long for those who grieve, Too short for those who rejoice, But for those who love, time is eternity. — Henry Van Dyke

Annie

He was late.

I tried to shove every last nerve down into the pit of my stomach and keep it on lockdown.

Almost a full year had passed.

The memories of his words were as new and hurtful today as they had been the day he said them.

But Ash Abandonato could just… rot in hell for all I cared.

That was why I’d left.

Well, it wasn’t exactly part of the plan, but when Chase had found me that day sobbing uncontrollably in the kitchen, nearly ready to collapse against the ground, it had taken everything in me not to rat Ash out.

But Chase knew.

His eyes had left mine and slowly gazed around until they landed on the sliding glass door and the pool house across the way.

“Tell me everything,” he’d rasped.

Then and only then did I find out that I was vetted through the Family because they truly knew everything.

And their only way of protecting me?

Protecting what was going on?

Keep me safe.

I should have known better.

Then again, they’d very carefully kept me alive, and when Chase offered me an out for the next ten months, I’d jumped at the chance. I’d always loved art anyway, and to be able to travel to a foreign country by myself? To be given the type of freedom I’d only ever dreamed of with my own shiny black credit card and the blessing from one of the most powerful men in the states?

I would have kissed his feet then begged to shine his shoes for the rest of my life.

He’d kissed my forehead then.

He’d apologized on his son’s behalf.

And I think a part of Chase died that day, the day he had to carry the sins of his son when he was already too busy carrying the sins of the world—the sins of the Family.

My time in Italy had been incredible.

Studying abroad had been a pipe dream, but now that I was back and ready to finish the last few classes I needed to graduate, I felt deflated.

In Italy, I’d seen myself as brave.

I’d learned to love myself.

I’d learned to put on lipstick, much to the amusement of all the cousins I already missed so much that there was a huge chunk of my heart missing where they were supposed to be.

Whatever preconceived notions I had about living with another mafia family went completely out the window when they hosted a party in my honor upon arrival.

Tags: Rachel Van Dyken Mafia Royals Crime
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