Bellissimo Lotta (Beautiful Struggle): Companion Novel to Bellissimo Fortuna (The Family Trilogy Book 2) (12 page)

I don’t get why he’s so cranky because I’m dating. It was his idea to break up, a decision I remind him of constantly because it seems to slip his mind each time I have a date. Every date he treats like a serial killer, not that I have had a lot. Three. In the four months I’ve been here. I don’t know if he’s had any because he isn’t home much, which I’m thankful for. The happiest time of my life? My ass. This college experience has been the loneliest. No Dakota. Callie and Bronson are constantly up each other’s asses, and even though they try to include me, that’s not something I want to bear witness to. I’m horny and don’t want to fuck just anybody. I want Dakota. I dream about Dakota and . . . I’m very much on edge.

I take Callie’s head off for drinking the last of the juice. “You need to get laid, Binks. You’re crabby.”

“I’d love to. Anyone in particular you have in mind?” Fuck.

“Dakota.” I groan. “Your fingers? Your vibrator? I don’t care, just fucking have an orgasm and release the endorphins into your system. Please.” She’s begging. I’m waiting for her to drop to her knees and promise me her first born as long as I’ll quit being a bitch.

“I can’t. I’m mabstinent.”

“A what stent?”

“Mab-sti-nent. I gave up masturbating.”

“What the fuck? Why?”

“Carpal tunnel is no joke, Callie.”

“For fuck’s sake. Stop.” The pictures on the walls shake from her stomping feet. I gave up getting myself off because every time I did, it was Dakota in my fantasies. If I was going to give dating a fair chance, I needed a clear mind, not a constant reminder of him. Stupid. I need a release.

Tonight is a frat party with Jeremy. He’s easy to look at and a goof-ball. That boy can’t be serious . . . as in ever. I laugh with him, and I’m beginning to think he views me as one of the guys, but at least I’m socializing.

Beer flows, girls dance atop tables, keg stands, and loud shitty music . . . typical frat party. It’s totally my scene, hence why I’m stumbling up the stairs to the condo with Jeremy supporting me. The door flies open, and Dakota’s icy stare bores through me. When he removes Jeremy’s hand from my waist and takes over, I fling myself back. Off balance, I almost tumble on my ass, but both Dakota and Jeremy grab for me at the same time.

“I’ve got her. Seems you did enough.” Dakota’s voice in terse; his words short and clipped.

“I’m a big girl,” I giggle.

“I didn’t do anything, man.” Jeremy shouldn’t defend himself against Dakota. He’s barking up the wrong tree.

“Yep, see that. Didn’t make sure she didn’t drink herself stupid. You’re right . . . you did nothing.”

“Wait, I’m right here. I’m perfectly capable of making my own decisions.” That may have been a better argument if I could stand up without assistance. Oh well, they can cock fight while I go pass out. One foot in front of the other. I’ll be fine. I don’t get two steps, and Dakota swings me in his arms and shuts the door in Jeremy’s face. That wasn’t very nice. I’m going to tell him his manners are horrendous, but somehow my arms betray me and find his neck, and my head falls to his chest.

“Bianca,” he warns.

“Hmmm?”

“You’ve got to be careful. Going out with douches, getting drunk. It’s dangerous.”

“Well, I’m just
exploring
. If my trusty sidekick Boots wasn’t kept on a tight leash controlled by Bronson, I wouldn’t be alone. Or better yet, if my
boyfriend
hadn’t dumped me I wouldn’t have to do this at all. I wouldn’t be alone.” Seems alcohol doesn’t slow down my attitude. Or filter my thoughts.

“Damn it.” Laying me down, he gives me a long look and leaves the room.

I love vodka, because it allows me to pass out and not feel the shit threatening to overtake me. Pain. Hurt. Anger. Disappointment. Most of all, loneliness. There will be plenty of time to deal with that. Tomorrow.

My head feels like a damn bowling ball was smashed into it, and the fucking banging from the next room isn’t helping. I throw back the covers and painstakingly make my way to Dakota’s room. I’m contemplating crawling, but the wall is offering a wonderful support system for my sluggish body.

I’m never drinking again.

I pause when I see him with a hammer in his hand, taking his empty bookshelf down. His room looks like a disaster area, boxes half-filled cover his bed, and all his clothes are in suitcases.

“What the hell? Girl with a hangover here.”

“Moving out.”

“Why?” I hate the sadness and fear lacing my voice.

“I’m tired of hurting you. I can’t see you with guy after guy. It hurts. Asking you not to date is unfair.”

“How? You did this. You wanted this.”

“I didn’t. I didn’t see any other way. I’m going to be working against guys like your father for a profession, Bianca. Can you tell me if I had to investigate him, arrest him, dismantle his organization, you’d be okay with that?” I know the reasons Bronson didn’t go into the field he wanted. I just never dreamed it would play a part in Dakota and I. My head was stuck in the sand as usual.

“Why didn’t you tell me the truth?”

“Would it have mattered? Your silence tells me all I need to know. You’d never be able to forgive me, and I can’t live like that. It was better it happened now. Don’t think for one minute I stopped loving you.”

“Why was our relationship so hard? Falling in love was the easy part. Admitting I love you and staying the course . . . that was a severe pain in the ass.”

“Anything worth having is worth a bit of pain. You were my forever.”

I stare at him, and instead of overthinking things, I walk towards him. I wipe my cheeks, the floodgates of emotion opening, and I don’t want them to close. “You were my forever. You were my first, and you were supposed to be my only. How do I move on?” I’m standing in front of him, wishing he’d make a different choice for his life, but knowing it would kill a piece of him at the same time.

“I don’t know. When I figure it out, I’ll share. Don’t wait for the answer because you, Bianca, are unforgettable.”

“Just when I was getting over hating my dad,” I whisper.

“Don’t. Not again, don’t go there. You made your peace, and you love him. Family is everything. Dana wasn’t perfect, made choices she shouldn’t have, and if I could have her back, I’d take every damn imperfection it came with. You don’t blame your dad for this.”

“You’re too good for me, Dakota.”

“No, Bianca, I love you. It’s that simple. I have to go.” He steps past me, and I grab his wrist. His face snaps to mine, and I see the pain reflected in his, pouring off me in waves.

“Kiss me goodbye. Please.” I need the feel of his lips. He pulls me close, and when my hands meet the hard planes of his chest, they flex and grip of their own accord, grounding me, giving me some sense of stability. I watch as his head dips, his eyes focused on mine, and his mouth meets my lips. Gentle. Sweet. I choke back a sob, and he cracks. Pulling me as close as he can, his lips push against mine, and I open for him. He pours everything into his kiss, and I accept it. In turn, I give him back all of me; I let him drain me, hoping to fill him up with love. Understanding. Happiness. I break the kiss needing oxygen and space. It hurts so fucking bad. I’m not breathing. Sure, I’m inhaling air, but it never feels like it gives me oxygen.

His hand traces my cheek, down to my lips. “I wish I was the one who could give you your happy ending.”

“Without you I wouldn’t have had a beginning.” My words are barely audible over the sounds of my cries. He showed me how to let go, how to embrace love when it was offered. “Il mio cuore è tuo.”

He nods at me and pulls me to him once more. With my head buried in his chest, he bends and kisses my shoulder. As he lets me go he whispers in my ear, “ti amo.” I cry harder . . . he learned Italian for me.

“I love you,” I repeat to him and watch him grab a suitcase and walk out. I spend the rest of the day alternating between heartbreak and hatred. Heartbreak for Dakota. For us. For the thoughts I have of my dad, again. Hatred for the Mafia. For life in general. Most of all ... for me. Not being strong enough to choose either my father or my heart.

We do not remember days, we remember moments.

~
Cesare Pavese

Chapter 12

Dakota

After having my own space the last year, it sucks being in the dorms. It was worse seeing her date . . . so I had to leave. In less than six months I’ll be at the training center in Virginia for eighteen long weeks, and I can start putting all this behind me. Move on and get over her. I know there will never be a day I’m completely over Bianca, but each day I get up and survive, I’ll take as a win.

I have a bone to pick with my best friend. I know he is wrapped up in Callie and she’s had a hell of a year, but he can’t shirk being a brother. His sister is hanging with tools like she did last night, getting piss drunk, and he has no clue. The fact that he isn’t shutting that shit down is not sitting well with me. I storm into the gym we spar at off campus, and I’m ready to beat his ass.

“Yo,” he calls a friendly greeting. I don’t respond. I just throw my bag down and start suiting up in my gear. I can tell by the way he is studying me that he is deciding if he needs to tread carefully or take it to the mat. My advice to him . . . both.

I meet his eyes as I climb under the ropes, and I can feel the anger pouring off of me. He just nods at me, knowing I need to work something out; he’s just not clued into the role he plays. We circle each other, both of our gazes focused, looking for a weakness. The air shifts, this isn’t our normal friendly match. He strikes first, and I take his jab, barely feeling the sting to my jaw. I attack next and unleash a series of blows, and he returns them. Before I can launch my next round of assault, I’m hauled back and held in place. “Not in my gym,” Saul says. He runs a tight ship, and I know we are close to crossing the line.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Bronson spits blood.

“Have any idea where your sister was last night?” I’m wound up tight, and Saul hasn’t let me go as of yet.

“Out.”

“At a frat party, drunk off her ass with some guy carrying her back up the stairs to the apartment. You have any idea what could’ve happened to her?”

“I didn’t cut her loose. This becomes my problem because you decided you were done playing house with her?”

“You’re her brother. It’s always your job to watch out for her. I didn’t cut her loose, I’ll never be done with her.”

“Right, so it wasn’t her crying every night a few months ago when you told her you wanted to take a break? You string her along for a few years, get her to fall in love, then you cut and run so you can have college pussy?” He has no fucking clue.

“Close to crossing a line, Bronson. I don’t want anyone else but her, but I can’t have her.”

“Why’s that?”

“You’re as fucking dense as she is.” Saul lets go of me and leaves the ring not wanting to be privy to this. “If your father wasn’t involved in the business but Callie’s was . . . and he wasn’t a dick, hypothetically they had a relationship like you and Bianca had with your dad . . . could you ask her to make that choice? Knowing you may be the one to dismantle his legacy; perhaps land him in jail. Could you tell me you’d be able to do that to her?”

“Shit,” he spews.

“Right. I get you struggled with your decision, and I didn’t think I’d end up where I was with Bianca, but your choice isn’t mine. I’m going after my dream. I have to.” He gets it. He knows I hate the drugs that killed Dana.

“Dakota, I was so wrapped up in Callie’s shit that I didn’t think. I handled my issues, but never put myself in your shoes. You have to know it wasn’t the drugs . . . that was your sister’s choice. I get you loved her, but you have to see her for who she was. Nobody forced her to use.”

“Enough. She may not have been forced to use, but she didn’t have to die.” That’s the bottom line. I could admit to myself she was weak, she was hooked . . . but she didn’t deserve the bullet through her head. I have no leads, no idea why it happened, but with the connections in the bureau, I hope to get those.

“Did you explain this to my sister?”

“Yesterday. I moved out.” His focus drops to the mat, staring at his shoes.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I did. I can’t watch her come in drunk, leave with other guys. I need to allow her to heal. I need the same.”

“This is a fucking mess. I told you not to get involved. “

“Yep. When you were being a big brother. I need you to step back in that role.”

“I got it.”

“You have your own shit with Callie, but don’t let Bianca get lost.”

“I won’t. You have my word. You sound like you aren’t going to be around.”

“I’ll be scarce around the apartment for a while. I can’t see that shit. I know she needs to move on, but I don’t need to see it.”

“This is shit. Isn’t there another way?”

“I can’t do your way. I’m not denying her importance to me, but I have to do this.”

He just nods at me; he understands me, but hates it for all involved. “Beers tomorrow? I’ll get one of the guards to keep the girls home.”