Scorned Obsession (Scorned Fate)

I stood beside Bianca as they loaded the sedated Renz into the back of a van. He tore up his stitches when he refused to leave without her. But Bianca was a Rossi now.

My wife.

Fucking hell. I didn’t know whether I was pissed or pleased about it.

I wanted better for her. A better man. A better life. Anything other than being surrounded by my family. My senses were heightened and on full alert. I needed to get her out of here.

“Renz…” Bianca choked, and if I didn’t have my arms around her, she would have climbed into the van with her brother.

Tommy came up beside us. “Once the driver drops him off at the Mount Sinai emergency, he’s gonna let me know and I’ll give the De Luccis a call.”

“Plates of the van?”

“Taken care of.”

When the vehicle’s door slammed shut, Bianca sagged against me. My arms tightened around her, but she didn’t turn to me. I wasn’t a source of her comfort, but a convenient choice to lean on. I had no illusions about what was going on in her mind right now. Bianca may be part of the legitimate side of the De Luccis, but she wasn’t naïve.

And I was right. She pushed away from me and glared with teary eyes full of contempt and questions that were sure to come. “You’re the boss now?”

My answer was a slight nod.

“How? You’re not a made man.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.”

She backed up another step and, for a moment, anguish crossed her face before more contempt wiped it away. “When?”

“This morning.”

“That fast? The commission…”

“Approved it,” a voice said behind us.

I closed my eyes briefly in agitation. I wanted to break it gently to her. Damn it to hell. I turned to face Raffa.

Also known as the Blind Don, Raffaello Rossi was the only surviving brother of my father’s four brothers. He had a shock of white hair and usually wore light-colored designer suits, but wore black for the wedding and my noon ceremony to become a made man. His blindness came from the shrapnel of a car bomb in an attempt on his life. From my sources, he wasn’t totally blind but could see blurry images. He probably would have been boss if it wasn’t for his disability.

“Have you been planning it for a while?” Bianca asked.

“Just made the request the other night.”

At Bianca’s dubious look, I added, “Luca expedited.”

The commission was like the government of the American mafia. Luca was one of its most influential members. Its role was to control the violence among its members to keep it at a level below public and law enforcement scrutiny. They also approved admission into the made-man roster.

“That son of a bitch,” Bianca muttered.

“Now, now, he’s part of your family, right?” Raffa clucked. “Aren’t you going to give your uncle Raffa a hug? We’re also family now, yes?”

Bianca’s response was to wrap her arms around herself and clasp her biceps in a gesture of defiance. “No, thanks.”

Fuck me.

Raffa looked in my direction. The dark glasses worked wonders to mask the intent behind his words, but I’d known him long enough to read between the lines. Or at least know what he wanted to hear.

“You have your work cut out for you, nephew?” he asked.

“Looks like it,” I said under my breath.

“What work? If you think—” Bianca sputtered.

“We’ll talk,” I cut her off. She was digging her hole—our hole—deeper and deeper.

Raffa arched a brow my way. “Maybe three weeks is not enough.”

Bianca unwrapped her arms and stepped toward Raffa. “Three weeks for what?”

“Three weeks for you to learn your fucking place as my wife.” I grabbed her arm and dragged her back to the house. “Let’s go.”

“Happy wedding night,” Raffa called out.

The stronzo was finding amusement with his machinations. He was more than an adviser; he was the puppet master who manipulated the Rossi bosses. Raffa had his own minions who carried influence with the soldiers.

I caged Bianca with my arms to prevent any attempt of hers to break away. I put myself between her and Griselda as we passed my former fiancée. I wouldn’t put it past Griselda to start trouble again.

Gian was furious at my deception with Griselda because it cost him an alliance with the Philly mob.

She was still insisting she was pregnant but wouldn’t confess who the father was because it certainly wasn’t me, and I made that clear to Gian and Raffa when I insisted on marrying Bianca.

What a perfect storm of a clusterfuck I found myself in as the new boss of the family.

“Where are we going?” Bianca demanded. “And what is that three weeks about?”

“I’ll explain once we’re clear from here.”

I hurried her through the house before someone else insulted her. I was a hair trigger away from massacring the entire Rossi family. My friendship with her wasn’t a secret. And it was obvious I became boss and married her for her protection. My plan of getting us out of this mess was a work in progress and I didn’t want Bianca running her mouth and complicating things.

Tommy caught up with us. “Which phone are you using?”

“Three.”

“Okay. I’ll let you know as soon as Renz is delivered.”

Bianca drew in a ragged breath but didn’t say anything. We moved through the kitchen and exited the back door.

A Rossi soldier tossed me the keys to a blacked-out Expedition. “Boss.”

“Thanks,” I muttered. I rounded the vehicle with Bianca. She was still in her wedding gown. “Do you want to sit in the back? Would it make you more comfortable?”

She glared at me.

“Or maybe it’s not a good idea,” I said. “You might strangle me with your garter.”

“Don’t give me ideas.”

“Wow, wife, that’s kinda vicious.”

“You suggested it.”

I opened the door. “Up you go, Sunlight.”

“Don’t call me that,” she retorted. “You don’t get to call me that ever again.”

Her barb wasn’t enough to erase the relief that swept through me now that I’d gotten her out of the family’s scrutinizing eyes.

But I had to face the next problem.

Bianca was my wife, and I didn’t know what to do with her. When we said our vows, guilt was my constant companion. Bianca deserved a fairy-tale wedding, and I’d given her a nightmare instead. Still, I derived a bit of satisfaction that I’d chipped away at her picture-perfect life and had given her a dose of reality in mine.

Forget a dose. It was a baptism by fire.

I slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine, not wasting time leaving everyone behind.

“Where are we going?”

“Another house. The one here won’t escape the De Luccis for long.” I glanced at her. “Your dad called Raffa.”

“Dad hasn’t had communications with the Rossis in a long time.”

“They haven’t talked in over fifteen years.”

“Since that time Frankie tossed me into the pool?”

I smiled grimly. How interesting her perspective of that day had changed. “What happened to since I rescued you from drowning?”

She scrunched her nose. “Dad would have fished me out.”

“But he didn’t. I did. I punched Frankie for doing that to you.”

“What’s the point in this, Sandro? You’re still one of them. Back there, I didn’t recognize you as the boy who was always nice to me.”

“And only you,” I murmured.

For the first time since the whole ordeal started, Bianca snorted a brief laugh. The mood shifted in the vehicle. Or maybe it only felt that way to me. Since I met her when she was a child, she’d always been the sunlight in my darkness.

At first, it wasn’t even Bianca. It was Ava De Lucci who I wished was my mother. She doted on her sons, and I envied the De Lucci boys. And then their younger sister came along and they all doted on the hellion that was Bianca. She gave me something to look forward to in those mafia gatherings where I was largely ignored in favor of Frankie.

I pretended she was my younger sister.

But that all changed the night I stormed the fraternity house and yanked her off a college kid in a jealous rage.

“My family never understood that.”

Her statement jerked me back from my thoughts and it took me a few seconds to rewind to what was last said.

“I felt contempt for everyone except you?”

“Yes.”

“I liked Ava,” I answered. “And you were a good kid.”

She harrumphed. She got annoyed when I referred to her as a kid, because when she was five, I’d been fourteen and considered a kid myself.

“Before that pool thing, you found me hiding in a closet with a busted lip and—” I started.

“I’m not doing this,” she mumbled and look out the window.

“Doing what?”

She cast me a scathing glare. “This! Strolling down memory lane. Reminding me when I believed in you.”

“Surely you didn’t go from believing in me to hating me overnight,” I drawled. More like a few days.

I could feel her irritation at how lightly I was treating the situation. However, I didn’t want to delve deep into our shared history. Not right now. I glanced in the rearview mirror to make sure my men were following me. Owning a dance club, I didn’t depend on Rossi soldiers in matters of security. I didn’t trust all of them and had my own men.

“You know how they say there’s a thin line between love and hate?” she asked.

“Fair enough. So that means there’s a chance you’ll fall in love with me again.”

Silence. She realized she admitted she loved me. She’d never spelled it out that what she felt was love. I felt the affection in her hugs and when she told me to take care. Again, this was before the fraternity house incident. That marked the beginning of Bianca driving me crazy with wanting something I shouldn’t have.

“That’s a lot to expect.”

“You’re my wife.”

“I was forced to be your wife,” she shot back. “You know my family is against the made-man culture.”

“There’s Dom.”

“My cousin is a confirmed bachelor. If he ever takes a wife, it would be for an alliance, not love.”

“You don’t have a good outlook on made men.”

“They should take a wife who knows what to expect,” Bianca’s voice rose. “Tell me, Sandro, about that oath you took today before you said your vows to me.”

She got me there, so I didn’t answer but kept my eyes on the road. At my continued silence, she gave a snort.

“Exactly. You became a made man who swore loyalty to the Rossi crime family. That they will come first before your wife and children. And then when you said your vows to me, you promised I came first. You will be with me in sickness and in health, but we know that won’t be true when mafia business comes calling.”

“Bianca.”

“Just look what happened to Luca!” she said. “Natalya was giving birth and he couldn’t be bothered.”

I pinched my brows because there was no defense. Bianca was right.

“What would you do, Sandro? Would I come first?”

“You’ll always come first, but while I try to figure this shit out, you’ll have to trust me and not defy me at every turn.”

“You mean show them I’m your meek mafia wife?” Contempt laced her tone like arsenic.

“In case you haven’t noticed, Raffa has expectations.” I shot her a brief glance. She was still looking out the window as if she was going to find salvation or answers outside the confined space of the vehicle.

We arrived at a red light. I picked up her hand in a way that felt like the past few days hadn’t happened. Before I crashed Nico’s wedding. Before I collaborated with Luca to bring down my own brother. “If you ever cared for me at all, you’ll be patient a little longer. You, of all people, know I never wanted to be boss.”

She glanced at our joined hands. I could make out her sad smile in the dimly lit interior. She lifted her gaze to mine. “Most of this is my fault. And what the hell was that with Griselda? Are you her baby daddy or not?”

Of all the… I was so pissed that she would believe I would marry her while another woman was pregnant with my child, I refused to answer.

At my continued silence, Bianca said, “There’s something else going on there, and now that I’m your wife, I deserve to know.”

“O-ho, now you’re playing the wife card?”

“Is this how it’s going to be? Us at each other’s throat? Why not give me a straight answer?”

I gave a humorless laugh. “You’ve grown up around the mafia enough to know that no one gives straight answers.”

I could feel her eye roll.

The whole Griselda shit show still left a nasty taste in my mouth and I didn’t feel like explaining it.

The safe house was another ten minutes away. We stewed in silence while I recalled the ceremony. Despite her defiance in her makeup choice, she could never hide the beauty of her heart-shaped face and the stubborn chin she inherited from Ava. She might not have her mother’s red hair, but Bianca’s rich dark brown glinted red under most lighting, and in that ceremony room, it magnified her rebellion. And what a hauntingly beautiful rebel she was as she marched down the aisle toward me.

I chanced a glance at Bianca. Her forehead was plastered to the window and she had fallen asleep.

An ache tugged at my chest.

My bride.

Warmth grew in the ache. She trusted me enough to fall asleep.