Scorned Obsession (Scorned Fate)

“I called my friend,” Divina said.

She came by this morning to help me do a walkthrough of the house and start my duties as Sandro’s wife. However temporary that was going to be.

A sitting room on the second floor made me sneeze the second we walked in.

“I only cleaned your room and Sandro’s when he informed me where he planned to stay,” she said.

“I’m sorry he made you do that.”

“He was making his moves without Gian noticing.”

“So only you and Tommy knew?”

“Pretty much, and Sticks. And of course, Raffa.”

We walked to the next room. It didn’t have any furniture, but could be used as another spare bedroom. There were six bedrooms on the second floor that were separated by the sitting room. It opened straight to a central staircase. The first floor was mostly functional rooms. Besides the kitchen, a study, game room, living room, formal dining room, and home theater completed the layout.

I approached the dusty windows. Grit and time weathered the glass opaque. A rustic ranch house stood diagonally across. “Is that where Sticks and the other guys are staying?”

“Yes. This used to be a horse farm, and that was a bunkhouse.”

“How big is the property?”

“Ten acres.”

Probably a horse hobbyist used to own this. “So, what are we supposed to do?” I asked Divina. “Sandro didn’t leave any instructions.” I didn’t want to waste energy prettying up this space if we weren’t staying long, but I certainly wouldn’t want to live in a place that made my skin itch with dust flying everywhere. “Where are we anyway?”

Divina didn’t answer. I turned to look at her and she dropped her eyes. “I’m not supposed to tell you.”

“So, I’m still a prisoner.”

“Bianca…”

“That’s fine.” I figured after I woke up with Sandro gone this morning that nothing had changed. I still wasn’t allowed a phone or any access to the outside world. “You’re aware Sandro is grooming Tommy to become the boss?”

“Yes.” Her gaze was still looking everywhere except me. Dammit, she wasn’t ready, and I had a sinking suspicion she never would be.

I walked to her side and gave her arm a quick squeeze. “What do you need from me, Divina?”

Her mouth trembled. “I wish I was less timid.”

I could see that as a problem. I wasn’t familiar with the Rossi culture, but I didn’t like that it appeared she didn’t have a life of her own. “In what way?”

“I don’t know how to contribute unless I am told what to do.”

“Is that what you think you should do? Contribute to the Rossi crime family? How about what you want?”

Divina burst out laughing, although it bore a vitriolic tinge to it. “That’s not how it works.”

“Each crime family is unique. Do you want to manage charities? Sometimes, wives stay out of the husband’s business and remain oblivious to it.”

“Rossi wives used to be that way, but after what happened to Joe’s wife, remaining ignorant about her husband’s mistress and his side dealings, I told Tommy I don’t want that for us.”

We walked out of the sitting room and returned to the first floor. “I need more coffee for this.” I’d had breakfast and a mug of coffee. But I was still feeling the exhaustion from the collective events of the past few days.

I got the second pot of coffee going and turned back to Divina. “I didn’t ask. Did you grow up in the mafia?”

“No.” She gave a tight smile. “My family owns a restaurant in Brooklyn and that’s where I met Tommy.”

“Were you forced to marry him?”

Again, an evasive look. “Not really. I liked him. But my father owed the Rossis money. Tommy paid it off to the family.”

“Did you marry him because you felt indebted?”

“I love Tommy,” she whispered.

Maybe I needed a double shot of espresso for this talk. “I’m not seeing the problem, Divina.”

Her jaw tightened, and for a split second I saw rebellion flash in her eyes. “I don’t want him to become the boss, but he wants it. And I love him. It’s important to him.”

Ah…hell. I wasn’t equipped to handle this. I didn’t say anything for a while, but grabbed our used mugs and rinsed them to warm them up again, contemplating what to say.

“Does Tommy know you don’t want him to be boss?” I asked finally.

She shook her head. “But I have to be supportive.”

“Are you resenting him for wanting to be boss?” How I felt about Sandro being boss didn’t factor here.

“No. I knew that was a possibility when I married him. I don’t want to feel like a failure. He’s done so much for me and my family.”

I didn’t have any answers for her. Sandro thought all she needed was to become more assertive. Men. Assertiveness was a personality. It was something that couldn’t be taught overnight. Growing up with three older brothers with dominant personalities shaped me into who I was today. Mix the De Lucci bossiness with McGrath stubbornness, and I was the result. And it depended on what I felt strongly about.

That was why my brothers called me sweet, but a psycho. I could be sweet about one thing and psychotic about other stuff.

But I had also known Divina for less than a day. What did I know about all her hopes and dreams?

We both turned toward the kitchen entrance when we heard the front door open followed by voices. Sticks appeared with a big smile on his face. A lanky boy in a fisherman’s cap and dark coveralls stood beside him.

“Look who’s here!” he said.

“Sloane!” Divina exclaimed. The two rushed toward each other as if they were long-lost friends. “I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“Busy with jobs.” The melodious voice was unmistakably feminine.

I raised a brow. Sloane was a girl.

“I’ll leave you girls to it,” Sticks said. “Boss just called.”

Before I could ask him where Sandro was, he retreated. I focused on the newcomer. She was slightly taller than me and I couldn’t discern her build from the oversized clothes. Reddish hair peeked underneath her cap. I wasn’t sure if it was short or she had it bunched under it.

“This is Bianca.”

Sloane raised her hand, and I couldn’t help raising mine to shake it. “Nice to meet you, Sloane.”

The lip of the cap partially shadowed her eyes. Freckles smattered her nose and cheeks. Her skin was creamy and pale, like she hardly saw the sun. Her pinkish lips were generous and defined.

“Divina said you were aloof. You seem normal to me.”

“Sloane!” Divina reprimanded her before turning her flushed face to me. “I’m sorry, but…”

I laughed. “No. Don’t be. I wasn’t welcoming yesterday.” I turned to Sloane. “And it’s not nice embarrassing your friend that way.”

“It broke the ice, didn’t it?” Sloane retorted.

“Do you know my situation here?”

“Yes. Forced to marry Sandro. I was expecting a hysterical bride, so I’m glad you’re quite the opposite. Okay, what job do you girls have for me?”

My mind was spinning. I loved no-nonsense people who got to the point, but Sloane broke all the sound barriers.

“Slow down,” I enunciated. “We’re still having coffee.”

Sloane made a point of checking her watch.

“We’ll pay you for the entire day or week since it seems you’ll have to do the entire house.”

That got her interest, and she looked at Divina, who appeared surprised at my offer. “Uh, Bianca…”

“Does she know my rate?” Sloane deadpanned.

Uh-oh.

“Tommy said as long as Bianca needs you. Sandro will pay.”

“Just out of curiosity, what is your rate?” I asked.

“A thousand an hour.”

That jolted me. I wasn’t sure if I was outraged or impressed. “That’s highway robbery. Even lawyers don’t charge that much.”

“Sloane, stop messing with her.”

“I’ll give you a fifty percent discount.” She winked. “Okay, coffee sounds good. But the clock is ticking.”

I didn’t balk at her abrasiveness. It was probably because of her hypnotic voice. I’d never heard anything like it. It was just the right amount of huskiness and almost had a musical quality to it. “Do you sing?” I blurted out while sliding her a mug of coffee.

Her mouth tipped up at the corners. “If I had a dollar for every time I hear that…no. I have a terrible singing voice, but before you ask, I have also gotten offers to do those sexy hotlines.”

“I never thought about that. So you prefer cleaning?”

“It’s a family business.”

“Sloane wanted to be a nurse,” Divina said.

“What happened?” I asked.

“Debts to be paid.” Sloane raised the mug to take a sip. “Huge debts.” I saw regret and sadness in her eyes, but her mouth quickly corrected to a smile as she said, “This seems like a big enough house. Might make a dent in that debt. I don’t normally do residential cleaning, but Divina is a friend.”

“Thank you.” Divina gave Sloane a hug.

After the coffee break, we worked through lunch, then stopped in the afternoon for pizza because the men were hungry and wondered where lunch was. I told Sticks to tell one of the guys to get pizza because Sandro forbade delivery.

We continued to clean until late afternoon. Sloane was a workhorse. She had shed the top of her coveralls to reveal a tank and firm arms and curves underneath. She took off her fisherman’s cap and replaced it with a bandana. Her hair was up in a messy bun.

We’d cleaned three bedrooms and most of the first floor. We were in the home theater now and she insisted on waxing the leather chairs. The home theater was an exact replica of what we had at the De Lucci mansion. Sandro had seen it. I wondered if he had it copied. And if he did, I didn’t know how to process my emotions about that.

“I could see a girls’ night here with all the wives and girlfriends,” I told Divina, but I was thinking more about my family. Cleaning the house kept my mind off them, but coming into this theater reminded me of Mom and Dad, my brothers. Renz.

“Hey, include me too,” Sloane said.

“Of course, you’re the one who is doing the hard work.” By this time, Divina and I were sitting on the couches, exhausted, while Sloane showed no signs of flagging. She said she’d been doing this since she was old enough to hold a mop. It used to be her mom and older brother. Her dad abandoned them. But when her mom died, her brother ended up in a gang. That was when she found cleaning for the mob paid much higher. She had to drop out of nursing school to either keep her brother in rehab or out of jail.

“I’m thirsty,” Divina announced. “Want anything?”

“Blueberry soda.”

“I’ve never had one of those,” Sloane said. “Get me one too.”

Divina made a humming sound and left us alone.

Sloane gave the entrance to the theater another look before she said, “Thanks for looking out for my friend.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“It means…I worry about her. The men in the Rossi crime family are a bunch of misogynistic assholes stuck in the eighties. Tommy is the exception, but he can’t be everywhere.”

“Divina should talk to him.”

“She doesn’t want to because Tommy has enough problems with Gian. They’re vying for underboss position since Sandro took the top spot and the men are confused about who’s in charge.”

“It’s only been a few days.”

Sloane shrugged and continued polishing the leather. My thoughts went back to my conversation with Sandro. How he was positioning Tommy for boss. Could Divina rise to the task? I’d hate for Tommy to be pushed out because Divina couldn’t handle the pressure and waste Sandro’s sacrifices.

Fake his death?

Despite what I told him, I would never enjoy my freedom if that was the price.

I cleared my throat, still parched, and that was when I noticed Divina had been taking too long.

I went looking for her and ran into her in the foyer, exchanging harsh whispers with Miller.

When Miller saw me, he paled. Poor guy. Sandro must have scared the shit out of him.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell,” I teased.

Divina spun around and gasped, “Oh, no.”

“What? Weren’t you going to get us snacks and soda?”

“Well…well…well…the little girl is playing house.”

My spine stiffened in recognition of the voice. I turned to see Griselda descending the stairs.

Indignation surged. “What are you doing here?”

She didn’t seem in the least bit ruffled and continued her lazy descent. “I came to get my earrings. I left them in Sandro’s bedroom the last time I was here.”

“She’s lying,” Divina said. “Sandro hasn’t been in this house for over a year.”

Griselda glided up to us, her mouth twisting in derision. “Look at you. Where are your loyalties, Divina? Some kind of sister-in-law you are. You’re kissing ass to Bianca now?” She skewered me a head-to-toe appraisal. “She’s not going to last.”

“Sandro wouldn’t leave his bedroom unlocked,” I said.

She dangled a set of keys in her hand as she walked up to us. “I have the keys to everything that belongs to him.”

“Don’t listen to her, Bianca.”

Griselda’s nose flared as an irritated expression flashed through her face. “You better bet on the winning horse, dear sister-in-law, because their marriage”—she stabbed a finger in my direction—“is a sham.”

“Let’s talk about a sham,” I shot back. “You tried to pawn off a pregnancy on Sandro, and guess what, he doesn’t give a fuck if you’re pregnant or not because he told me the baby is not his.” He didn’t deny not sleeping with Griselda, but it was going to be at the top of my list of questions to ask him.

“And your marriage, Bianca?” Griselda sneered. “You don’t even sleep in the same room.”

“Did you go into my bedroom?”

“I don’t have to. Sandro’s room is still all Sandro without a trace of you.” She laughed in a way that brought back all her jeering from my teenage years.

“Get out,” I said.

“Oh, I will.” She swept past me and opened the door, but she wasn’t done. She turned around again. “Sandro will never touch you. He’ll always think of you like a little sister.”

My mouth wanted to sneer and tell her I just had an orgasm grinding on Sandro’s big, hard cock. But I was selfish about sharing that, even if it might give me pleasure to wipe the mockery off her face.

At my silence, she snorted another laugh. “Just you wait until I tell Uncle Raffa.”

“Maybe you should admit to him first that you’re not pregnant.”

“Oh, he already knows I’m not,” she snapped.

Then it dawned on me. “They’re pissed at you for faking your pregnancy, aren’t they? That’s why you’re trying to redirect their anger toward me and Sandro. To distract them from your lying.”

“Just like Sandro is lying to Uncle Raffa about making this marriage real? You really think I buy that Sandro wants to be the boss for long?” She studied my face, trying to discern the truth, but when I showed her nothing, she gave the whole grand foyer an assessing gaze full of contempt. “Don’t get too comfortable in this house.”

She didn’t bother closing the door, probably so I could hear her triumphant laughter as she walked away from me.

I slammed the door behind her and pivoted to Divina. “Did you know she was here, and that’s why you made the excuse to get us drinks?”

“I was trying to avoid a confrontation.”

“And if I hadn’t come out, would you have kept it from me?”

“I don’t know,” Divina whispered.

“Hey, what’s taking the refreshments…?” Sloane came up and broke off. “What happened?”

“Griselda happened.” I speared Miller with a look. “Where’s Sticks?”

“He went to town to get something,” Miller replied. “Look, I can’t say no to Griselda unless Sandro says so. She’s the club’s manager, so technically, she’s our boss.”

“What a clusterfuck,” Sloane muttered.

“You think?” I retorted. “I’ll talk to Sandro and clear it up.” But nothing was more disheartening than my disappointment with Divina. Was it her fault, though? I’d had enough dealings with Griselda to know her expertise was in stirring trouble. Even fabricating it. Were there really earrings? If she indeed had keys to this house, I was going to demand she give them up. But that was not my immediate concern.

“Sloane, Miller, can you give Divina and me a minute?”

When the two left us, I told her, “Sloane is right. This situation is a mess, and you’re being put in the middle, but you have to choose, Divina. If Sandro fails, Gian will be boss. And you know who he’s in league with.”

She nodded.

“The Philly mob. I’m trying to help. The consequences of Sandro failing are unacceptable to me. He’s been my friend since childhood. If you’re torn about what to do, then you need to have an honest conversation with Tommy. Sandro needs people he can trust, especially with the power struggle going on. Do you understand?”

“I do.”

“Text Sloane and tell her to meet us in the kitchen.” This encounter with Griselda had left me thirstier and surprisingly hungry. Damn, if I ate my weight in stress, my family would have to roll me out of here in three weeks.

When Sloane met us in the kitchen, I had a pitcher of margaritas ready.

I’d emptied a bag of chips on a platter and microwaved a bowl of queso.

“What are the guys doing for dinner?” Divina asked.

“They can fend for themselves,” I said. “I think they’ve ordered enough pizza to last us a few days.”

Divina gave a light laugh. Kind of a forced one, but it left no question she was still feeling guilty about what happened. “They sure did.” Then, as if she knew we couldn’t sweep this under the rug, she said, “It isn’t Miller’s fault.”

“Did I say it was?” I poured the margarita mixture into glasses and slid them to the women. “I think the problem here is the new chain of command. Dance club business…it’s Griselda, but here in this house, I have the say.”

Sloane laughed while taking a sip of her margarita. “Hate to tell you, Bianca, but it’s kind of hard for you to assert your position if you’re not even allowed a phone.”

“Sloane,” Divina snapped.

“What?” Her friend went wide-eyed with mock innocence. “I’m just stating the obvious. How will people listen to her if her position is clearly as a captive?”

“Let’s put it this way, assume this is my kingdom and I’m just denied a passport beyond it.”

Sloane snorted into her drink.

“What?”

“Whatever you say, Mrs. Rossi.”

I looked at Divina. “Your friend is snarky.”

Sloane grinned.

“And annoying.”

She grinned wider.

We continued to snack on chips and queso, and when we a ran out of queso, I opened a jar of salsa. I would worry about the empty calories later. Sloane entertained us with interesting clean-up jobs. Apparently, she didn’t only work for the Rossis but a slew of criminal organizations.

The door to the house opened to a barrage of voices.

And screaming.

We all looked at each other, eyes wide, before we scrambled to our feet. “What now?” I muttered.

We rushed out of the kitchen and I was relieved to hear Sandro’s voice giving orders.

But anxiety rippled in my chest when I saw the change in the foyer.

The once pristine marble flooring was now covered in a pool of blood.