Scorned Obsession (Scorned Fate)

I collared a bottle of wine in each hand. My flash-in-the-pan employer carried a wooden box of top-shelf whiskey. “There’s an open bar, but make sure to keep their glasses filled,” he said behind me while we made our way up the steps.

Conflicting feelings rattled with each step that brought me closer to the second floor. A part of me wanted Renz to appear and drag me out of here and lecture me for this escapade, while another part of me seethed with righteousness about confronting Sandro. I wanted to sneer in his face. Did he think he was the only one who knew how to stalk? Granted, this was by accident, but I couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when he saw me pouring him a glass of wine and congratulating him on his engagement.

I ignored the pressure in my chest. The kind of pressure that made you want to scream into an abyss or ugly cry in a dark corner to ease the pain.

There was no time to dwell on conflicting emotions because when we entered the room where the party was being held, my feet sank in quicksand and I became a statue.

Apparently bravado before and after an idea was different when set in motion.

Quite a few people squinted at me.

One of them was Tommy Scavo. He was Griselda’s brother and currently the Rossi underboss. I’d had friendly interactions with him. He was the same age as Sandro but was smooth-shaven and had a lankier build. Whereas Sandro’s hair was wavy, Tommy’s had tighter curls.

It was wishful thinking that he wouldn’t recognize me.

Tommy strode to me directly, a thundercloud on his face.

“Bianca,” he whisper-yelled. He gripped my elbow and crowded me into a corner. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m about to serve wine.”

My faux employer eyed us warily. “You two know each other?”

“Kinda,” I squeaked.

“Yes,” Tommy shot back with a glare so hard, the other man backed off and disappeared. Turning back to me, he said, “I saw Renz. He’s pissed that he didn’t know the order was for this. You guys shouldn’t be here.”

Too late. I was in full-blown stalker mode and determined to get my answers. As long as I’d known Sandro, I wasn’t privy to the inner workings of the Rossi crime family. I only knew he was their top enforcer. It appeared he was more involved than I thought. If I had known this, I would have backed off a long time ago. I always thought he was the outcast and the Rossis took advantage of him. But if this gathering was in his honor, then he hadn’t been honest with me.

“Hey, Tommy,” someone called from across the room. “Stop harassing the wine girl and send her over.”

His grip tightened on my arm, but I yanked at my elbow and freed myself. “I have work to do.”

I strutted across the room. A few of the men eyed me up and down. I spied Sandro’s dark outline out of the corner of my eye, but I refused to look at him.

Yet.

I pasted a smile on my face for the stranger who called me over. “More wine, sir? This is a Barolo vintage 1995 from the Piedmont region.”

More men surrounded me. “Okay, you guys need to give me room.” I flashed them a fake nervous smile.

“So what’s your name?” one of them asked.

“I bet you taste better than this wine.”

Wine was the last thing on their minds. They were probably wondering if I was a candidate for mistress.

“Move over, Sergio. Give the lady some room,” Tommy growled.

Bodies pushed against me. I could not extend my arms to pour the wine. Air became scarce. Either that or I was panicking, like I’d been thrown into shark-infested waters with a bleeding wound. In this case, it was my bleeding heart.

Just when I thought I was going to let out the scream in my chest, fresh air expanded my lungs.

The bottles disappeared from my hands, and I was staring into Sandro’s livid gaze. He used his hulking form and shouldered men aside, or maybe they simply backed off from the vicious hostility emanating from him.

His jaw was clenched. His mouth was trying to form words but failing. He gripped my arms the way Tommy did earlier and then dragged me from the room.

My gaze passed over to Griselda. Her expression was just as furious as Sandro’s. That was when I realized she was standing beside the man I knew as Gian. The adopted Rossi. The new boss. I didn’t like the speculative gleam in his eyes, like he was already plotting bad things for me.

My legs struggled to match Sandro’s long strides.

He hauled me into a living room with pass-throughs on each side. Guests got startled at our abrupt entrance.

“Out,” Sandro roared.

The occupants scrambled for the exits.

He let go of my arm and the momentum at which we entered the room had me stumbling a few steps forward.

“What the hell, Sandro?” I shrieked.

“What the hell?” he repeated, as if I had the gall to get pissed off at him. “What the hell,” he repeated more softly. And I knew him well enough that he was about to explode. And I was right.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he roared.

“I came to congratulate you on your engagement.” I tilted up my chin. Shocked, how I calmly delivered that line when my knees were knocking against each other. Self-righteous anger simmered inside me, remembering all the years I thought I could steer him away from the Rossis, showing him that their way wasn’t the only way. That my family would embrace him and protect him as long as he severed ties with them.

His eyes flickered with an unnamed emotion. Surprise maybe? Or guilt that I knew about the engagement.

“What do you want me to say, Bianca?” He exhaled a resigned sigh. “Thank you?”

“Are they forcing you to marry her?” I asked shakily.

“No.” His reply was immediate and my tattered heart started hemorrhaging.

My foolish, foolish heart. I shoved his chest. Angry tears scalded my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. “Then what was that fucked-up game you were playing with me? You scare my boyfriends away and then not want me?” A pained hitch choked those last two words. “You said I deserved better. Help me understand, Sandro. Why marry someone else?”

The last shred of pride kept me from asking, Why not me?

“Bianca…” Was that pity in his eyes? I should’ve turned around and walked away. Left him to the Rossis. It was clear he made his choice.

“Oh, how wonderful that she knows.” Griselda strode in.

“Not now, Griselda,” he bit out.

“Oh, Sandro.” She sidled up to him and clung to his arm. “Sooner or later, she’ll find out.” The smile she cast me was full of triumph, of satisfaction that in the end she’d won and I was left with heartbreak and humiliation. “It’s time to stop indulging her girlish dreams and concentrate on the family we’re going to have.” She palmed her lower belly, leaving no question what she meant. She was already pregnant. Griselda was having Sandro’s baby.

I wanted to throw up.

Sandro stood stiffly, but he didn’t object to how Griselda plastered herself to his side in a show of possessiveness. Did I misread his concern for me all these years? Too blinded by my obsession with him, I couldn’t see him the way he really saw me.

“Oh, poor baby,” Griselda continued. “Sandro cares for you, but you’re always going to be like a baby sister to him.”

She spelled out what my obsession had kept me from seeing. Sandro remained a silent, brooding mountain beside her, not even trying to contradict her.

“You’re right.” The grinding in my jaw started to hurt. “Now, can I leave?”

“Not so fast.” A new voice joined the conversation, and Gian stepped into the room.

Sandro wiped his face clean of emotions. Griselda grew wary. Tension snaked into the room and coiled around us.

“Bianca De Lucci. Now why is Cesar’s youngest here?”

“There was a last-minute change to the catering.” It was Tommy who spoke up. “There was a bit of confusion and there was no dessert.”

“Oh, I remember now,” Gian said in a tone as silky as slime. “Your family owns a café bakery. But…why were you pouring wine, hmmm? Were you hoping to poison the Rossis?”

“That’s absolute nonsense. I’m just a business grad trying to find her footing. And if you had the right info on me, you’d know I get into different things. Like I’m helping out at my brother’s café right now.”

Gian stood beside Sandro. “Is that right? The De Luccis always seemed to be peripherally involved whenever a Rossi boss gets assassinated.” He looked at Sandro. “First Frankie, and then Joe.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Sandro cut in, but he didn’t offer an explanation.

“I guess we’ll never know, but I think if I dig hard enough…”

When Gian passed Sandro and moved closer to me, Sandro’s shoulders noticeably stiffened, but Griselda gripped his arm to keep him in place.

“Let her go, Gian,” Sandro said, his voice quiet but fierce.

“Or what, Sandro?” Gian mocked. “Your little pet obviously came here for something.”

“I told you I just delivered the baked goods, but you were short on serving staff, so I helped. And I wanted to congratulate Sandro on his engagement.”

Gian laughed like a hyena. Meanwhile, Sandro was growing more remote, his face darkening, and he was eyeing the back of Gian’s head like a piñata. His gaze briefly drifted to mine, but his chin dipped and his eyes scouted the area.

When Gian stopped laughing, he turned to Tommy. “Make sure you educate whoever is screening the service staff for gatherings like this. We’re two Rossi bosses down. We need to be more careful, capisce?”

Gian’s beady eyes returned to me. “Now, what am I going to do with you?”

“You have no choice but to let her go,” Sandro gritted.

“Bianca!” Renz’s voice shouted behind me. I spun around to see my brother barreling in from the other entrance of the living room.

I stumbled toward him, and he hauled me into his arms. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” I cried, my relief crashing over me.

Renz glared over my shoulder. “We’re leaving.”

“Not so fast,” Gian hissed. “How do I know you’re not spying?”

Tommy started to say something, but Gian held up his hand and cut him off.

“This was a mistake.” Renz started backing away with me, not confirming or denying Gian’s accusation.

Sandro’s stoic face morphed into one of alarm and anger. He rushed forward and pushed Gian out of the way. I thought he was trying to grab me from Renz.

Everything happened at the same time and in slow motion.

“Put the gun—” Sandro shouted. But then his shout was cut off with a loud cracking sound.

Renz grunted, and we started falling.

“Bianca!” Sandro’s anguished roar engulfed the rush in my ears, but my breath deserted me when I landed on top of Renz.

Another blast.

Then chaos erupted.

I scrambled off Renz with my heart lodged in my throat. Tears and disbelief clogged my words and I screamed, “No!”

My brother…

His entire left side was a map of red. I shifted to my knees, paralyzed in terror. “Where are you hit?”

“I dunno,” he wheezed. He was dazed, head moving from side to side, his eyes trying to stay open. “Liz…”

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” I sobbed. All my fault. I glanced up and screamed, “Call 911!” Tommy slid to his knees beside me and started ripping Renz’s shirt off.

There was a crush of people in the room. Sandro had a man up against the wall, and I spotted another man on the floor.

Everyone was talking at the same time. They were discussing how to clean up this mess. As in, we were the mess. Getting out of here alive was becoming an impossibility.

The stronger odds? Renz could die.

My eyes latched on to the gun that had fallen under an armchair. Without another thought, I scrambled for it and succeeded.

“Bianca,” Sandro gritted.

I raised the gun and shot at the ceiling before pointing it at Gian. Several guns pointed at me, but with Renz dying, fear had deserted me.

A thought in my head was on repeat. Renz was bleeding out, and it was all my fault.

“Call 911,” I repeated.

“No,” Gian sneered.

Sandro grabbed me from behind and divested me of the weapon. I jerked away from him and sank to my knees again in front of Renz, trying not to feel defeated. Trying not to surrender to the fear that Renz would die. Tommy was applying pressure to his chest wound. Blood spilled from Renz’s lips.

“We need the doc,” Tommy said.

“Already called him,” someone said.

I glared at Tommy. “He needs a hospital.”

Renz’s eyes were barely open, and he groaned, “Sorry, sis.”

“Why are you sorry? I was the one who messed up,” I choked.

“He needs a hospital,” I pleaded with Sandro, my voice cracking, my chest screwing tighter and tighter. It was getting harder to breathe.

He shook his head. “Can’t do that.”

“If he dies, I’ll never forgive you!”

“Excuse me?” Griselda jeered. “You’re blaming him when you were the one who crashed our party?”

“Griselda,” Sandro growled. “Not now. Not here. Can’t you see she’s distraught?”

“You always baby her, defend her. Now what do we do with this mess?” She turned on Gian. “You think Cesar De Lucci will let this go?”

“Shut up, Griselda,” Sandro snapped.

“She’s right.” Gian detached from his huddle of soldiers and walked up to Tommy. “What do you think, Tommy? It was one of our men who shot his son, even if Sandro killed him.” He glared at Sandro as if saying that was the wrong move and there would be repercussions later. “I don’t think he’d take too kindly that we harmed his baby De Luccis.”

A round of laughter went around the room. Only Sandro, I, and Tommy were not laughing. I was fuming, but I knew better than to stoke the promise of retaliation from my family.

If Renz dies…

My chest heaved in almighty agony; my throat scraped with burning rage. Thoughts spiraled into a dark place.

There would be no place on earth the Rossi crime family could hide. Dad would exterminate every single one of them, Sandro included. And at this very instant, I didn’t care that the boy I adored since childhood was going to rot in hell with them.

An emotion I’d never associated with Sandro surged inside me and I raised my eyes to meet his gaze head-on.

Hatred.

Unadulterated hatred.

The boy I’d been in love with for most of my life was one of them.

Whatever Sandro saw on my face disturbed him enough. He was skilled at hiding what he was feeling, but in some ways, I was familiar with his tells. His hand that was at his side, the one not holding a gun, curled and uncurled. He wanted to comfort me, but his arms were the last thing I craved.

I seek atonement.

Because of my obsession with Alessandro Rossi, my brother could die.

I harnessed all my anger and stopped crying. I was a De Lucci. Renz needed me to have my wits about me.

Gian crouched in front of me. “The only way Cesar De Lucci won’t come after us is if we form an alliance.”

A gripping chill crawled up my spine.

“If you marry me, surely your pop won’t kill his son-in-law?”