My Masters' Nightmare Season 1, Episode 3 (8 page)

“
What?” I said, not
understanding.

“
My full, or should I say my
real name is Matteo Lorenzo Donatelli. I’m the son of Marco
Donatelli,” he said, indicating to Lucky. “I was brought up in
America by my mother, but financed by my father. He and my
grandfather put me through college, wanting me to become their
lawyer until they decided they needed a spy in the FBI, and since
I’m good at all things physical and verbal, I got the job over my
other half-bastard brothers.” He cocked his head to the side. “And
when you kept wanting to ride me, I found a convenient cover as
your lover, then husband.” He wrinkled his nose. “Although you are
far from my taste.”

I shook my head, not believing
a word he was saying. They were making him say this, making him lie
so
they
wouldn’t kill him.

His eyebrows
rose
. “Don’t
you believe me? Well, then why did I tell Frano about you? Would a
man in love tell a mobster about his beautiful wife?”

“
You can’t be
mafia!
” I
shouted at him.

“
And why’s that? You knew there
was a spy in the bureau, so why couldn’t it have been me? You all
believed that stupid lie about me being fed to the fishes, or
sharks, whatever they told you lot. And because I was supposedly
fish food, there was no body, which meant there was no need to
search for me, just an empty casket for you to mourn over. So sad,”
he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “And now I hear you’re
pretending to be some dead woman to save your neck. You were always
stupid, Rita, I don’t even know how I got hard for such an idiot
who couldn’t tell I was playing her.”

I shook my head.

Matt
walked over to me and took a hold of
my chin, looking me in the eye. “I don’t care if they kill you, and
if you don’t believe me I’ll get some popcorn and sit back and
watch.” He let go of my face and turned to Frano. “You’re wasting
your time on her, your brother fucks a lot better.”

“
You can’t be Donatelli,” Frano
mutter
ed,
looking as stunned as I felt, the mention of his brother sliding
right off him.

Matt smiled. “I am, and you, Frano, are
just as stupid as Rita. How could you have not known your brother
is gay? Didn’t you even notice how he was always trying to grab my
ass? By the way, your desk is rather uncomfortable to fuck on.”
Matt laughed, then turned and walked out of the room, leaving me
standing there with everything dying inside.

Lucky started laughing behind us. “It’s
fortunate I have a stable of kids, because that one will never give
me grandchildren.” The table of dons started laughing.

My eyes shot to the door as my
husband re
turned with a naked Federico. He shoved him to the floor,
and raised his gun. “And in case you still believe I’m
FBI...”

I screamed as
he fired at
Federico, my fellow-agent’s body jerking about on the floor as each
bullet hit him. I went for Matt, but Frano grabbed me. He held on
tight as I tried to break free, desperate to save Federico—although
I knew it was too late, his body now riddled with bullets. Frano
started talking to me in Italian, trying to calm me down, but no
matter what he said I knew it wasn’t going to be okay. I turned and
pushed my face into his chest, everything that had happened tearing
me apart. Then it was all gone as a gun struck the back of my
head.

3

Frano

Rita collapsed on me, taking us
down. I grunted as we
hit the floor, my head banging against the hard
wood. My mind went hazy for a moment, the constant hits to my head
making it hard to focus. Someone said something, then kicked me in
the side, telling me to get up. I turned Rita over, then checked
her pulse, relieved to find one. I yelled out as another kick
struck me.

“
Get up!” Nino
snapped.

I pushed shakily to my feet. A smile
spread across Nino’s face, the prick finding my pain amusing. And
what had happened to Federico ... the way he was taken out—a pawn
used to put me down, his life meaning nothing to them. Rage filled
me, no, it fucking exploded. Letting out a roar, I rushed Nino,
taking him down. I knew there was nothing I could do for Federico,
but I was going to make at least one of these bastards
pay.

Yelling started up, the don and
his own not finding what I
was doing so amusing. Lucky shoved his gun into my
back, hollering at me to get off his brother, but I continued to
punch Nino, not caring, because they were going to kill me
anyway.

Lucky hit me over my head with his gun,
right where I had been struck before. I fell off Nino, then went to
get up, but a foot stomped on my chest. A different face loomed
over me. It was Matteo, Rita’s supposed husband, the charlatan who
had made a fool out of me, pretending to be someone he
wasn’t.

“
Really?” Matteo said,
staring down with
those blue eyes I never realized were Donatelli. “You’re upset over
the death of a FBI agent? Are you selling the families out to the
FBI? Because you attacked my uncle right after one of them died and
the other was struck down. Maybe you’re breaking the code of
silence. That in itself is worthy of being crucified.”

“
I’m not breaking the
Omertà
. I was using Federico to pass on false
information to the FBI, and her,” I indicated to the unconscious
Rita. “I owed her; she stopped the sick priest from raping
me.”

“
Again, speaking ill of my
family
. The
reasons to crucify you are mounting. Or shall we bring your brother
in here and kill him instead?”

“
NO!!”

“
Don’t worry your pretty head,
Frano, I wouldn’t kill Alberto, I love his cock. It’s nice and
thick, and probably right now... How do you say?
...fottuto
Jagger
.
Or
is it
del
cazzo
? I
have no idea; my Italian is
fucking
bad.” He laughed at his pun.

“
It’s not fucking, it’s rape!” I
shouted. “You bastards are allowing my brother to live out his sick
fantasies.”

“
True. But back to the issue at
hand: who else can I kill? I would suggest Mario, but
unfortunately, even though I don’t know the traitor, he’s still
technically my cousin, so he’s off my hit list. Who does that
leave? Servants? But they aren’t fun to kill, plus they’re useful,
unlike old men in wheelchairs.”

My eyes widened as my father was wheeled
into the room by a Donatelli guard, his ankles and wrists tied to
the metal frame of a wheelchair. “NO!!” I screamed, trying to get
up.

Lucky
and Nino placed their boots on me,
while Matteo removed his and headed for my father, pointing his gun
at him. Even in his seventies, my father looked physically strong,
much more so than the Donatelli don, but his eyes displayed a
greater weakness: his confused and unstable mind, a result of his
dementia. He could barely remember me, let alone understand why he
was here, or why he had a gun pointed at his face.

“
Don’t, please, I’ll do
anything, just leave him out of this,” I begged, my chest hurting,
and not from Lucky’s boot. All thought of what my old man had done
to my mother was pushed aside, that grudge not something I wanted
repaid, because right now he wasn’t the cruel monster of my past,
he was my father, the person who had told me he loved me more than
life itself.

“
He killed your mother yet you
wish him to go unpunished?” Matteo said.

“
He’s my father! He could
kill me and I would forgive him as I burned in Hell!”

“
Now
that’s blind love.”

“
I made this mess, not him, just
kill me, punish me, don’t take it out on him, he doesn’t understand
what’s happening.”

“
But you do, and it’s you we’re
punishing.” Matteo turned back to my father and raised his gun. I
screamed at him to stop, but he still pulled the trigger, the
bullet hitting my father in the forehead. I screamed again, crying
out for my father, then everything went blank as a boot kicked me
in the head.

***

I woke up feeling
groggy
. I
touched my head, finding a bandage wrapped around it. A phone rang,
making me push out of bed. My body went wobbly. I sat back down,
using my hands to steady myself. The phone continued ringing, the
shrill noise hurting my head. I got to my feet slowly, making sure
I didn’t fall over, then walked clumsily to the phone, my body not
working in sync with my brain. I leaned against the desk and picked
up the phone, “
Prego
.”

The Donatelli don’s voice came
over the line.
“
Buon giorno
, Frano,” he said, saying good morning.

“
Buon giorno
,” I replied without
thought.

“
Are you well enough for
my
famiglia
to visit tonight? We still need to sort out this issue with
your cousin.”

I frowned,
feeling like I’d had this
conversation before, but not knowing for sure, my mind still groggy
from whatever the hell was fucking with my memories, because right
now I couldn’t remember shit.

“
Frano? Are you
still there?” the
don said, practically shouting, the man obviously not wearing his
hearing aid.

I removed
the phone from my ear then
placed it back, my head killing me. “
Mi
dispiace
,” I apologized. “I got distracted. What issue are you
referring to?”

“
Gabriel
’s punishment, of course. You agreed
to allow my brother to whip him.”

I placed a hand to my head,
rubbing
my
throbbing temple, not knowing what was real and what wasn’t. “I
thought you had Jagger,” I finally said, now wondering whether I’d
dreamed my cousin’s screams. I couldn’t remember why he’d been
screaming; just that it was to do with the Donatelli.

“
Of course we don’t have him,”
the don said, “otherwise why would I be calling?”

“
I ... I don’t know.”

“
Are you
still unwell,
Frano?”

“
No, I’m fine,” I said, not
wanting to show him any weakness. “But I must go.
Grazie
for calling, I will
see you tonight.”

“
Buono
,” the don said, hanging
up.

I put the phone down and headed for the
door, wondering why the hell I was wearing the black pajamas
Alberto’s wife had bought me, because I only ever slept in my
birthday suit.

I exited my room, wincing as I called out
for Jagger and Alberto. The door two down from mine opened.
Alberto’s wife stepped into the hallway, the purse in her hand
suggesting she was about to go out. Her long blonde hair was
hanging loose and she was wearing a floral dress, the multi-hued
satin kissing her curvaceous figure.

She walked up to me. “I’m happy you’re
awake, Frano, but you shouldn’t be out of bed.”

“
What happened to
me?”

“
You had a nasty fall from your
horse.”

“
I don’t remember going out
riding.”

“
Well,
you did. You’ve only just come back
from the hospital. You’ve been in an induced coma for three days.
Your brain swelled from the knock, which was why you were put into
the coma.”

I shook my head, instantly
regretting the movement. “Where’s Jagger? I need to see
him,”
I need
to know if he’s alright
, because
something was telling me he wasn’t, and the
mention of the whipping also felt wrong.

“
He’s in New York dealing with
the American slaves.”

“
I thought he’d
returned.”

“
No, he’s still
there.”

“
But, he needs to be home
tonight for the Donatelli.”

“
Well, that’s
impossibile.
”

I rubbed my
head
,
feeling like I’d been hit by a bus. “Where’s Alberto? I must talk
to him.”

“
He’s around the house
somewhere.”

“
And Federico?” I asked, a vague
memory—or dream of him being shot returning.

S
he frowned. “He’s dead.”

I shook my head, although my gut was
telling me it was true. I could hear the shots firing in my head,
just couldn’t see who was pulling the trigger.

“
You ordered his execution,”
Bianca added. “He was FBI.”

I placed my hands on my head. “I wouldn’t
have done that, I was using him to pass on false
information.”

“
I know, but
h
e found out
and tried to run, which was why you had to take him
out.”

“
I don’t
remember
.”