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“Can’t blame a girl from wanting a little fun,” I reply, tossing him a sickly sweet smile. “All work and no play is so deathly boring, Uncle! Lighten up a little.”

“No, it’s time for you to go and pack,” he comments, no other response.

“And what if I say no?” I ask him, crossing my arms over my chest.

Alberto doesn’t reply; he flies toward me with rapid speed, and I cower just before his body catapults mine against the nearest wall. This isn’t the first time – nor will it be the last – that my family executes power by making me feel defenseless and weak trapped by them.

“I cannot wait to ship you back,” he spits at me, leering closer to me. “Maybe when you get back there you’ll see how lucky you had it here, Amelia. I taught you right and treated you well, but you don’t appreciate any of this. Being an Abbiati is a privilege, not a fucking punishment. You’ll do good to remind yourself of the riches put at your feet. Yet you don’t. You’re this detached, defying little bitch. Your father used to always gush how alike to your mother you are, but you are nothing like her. You might look like her, but she was never as cold as you are. Even after years of marriage to your father, she was still very much innocent. Which is something that can never be said about you.” He slams his hands against the wall on either side of my head, his breathing elevated by his irritation as he locks his gaze with mine. “You should use your flight to think about what loving a man like Maverick did for you.  He made you so stupid that he got away without even a mark on him. You lost more because of him than you’ll ever gain back. Remember that when you have to go back and repent for your sins. The Dio Lavoro should have thrown you out with nothing but the clothes you’re wearing, but apparently, there is something about you that we keep clinging to. We all know you’ll destroy us.”

“Now, that isn’t true, is it,” I ground out, putrid anger seeping from me. “I gained some valuable life lessons while I was here. Like how sick and twisted the old mafia generation are in comparison to the new. You think I’ll destroy the family, but you seem to have forgotten that I’m not the only loose cannon in this family.”

“You’re the only one I see,” he declares venomously. “Do you think you can go back to Manhattan and lose the heartbroken look you carry around? It’s seriously pissing me off, Amelia. We all know you can kill people and we all know you can do as you’re told, so I expect you to go home with the same manner of living.”

“Whatever,” I say and feel his gaze intensify upon me. He closes in, ready to use more threatening behavior to make me crack, but I dig my heels in. "We've been over this time and time again, you pompous, nit witted imbecile! Fat chance!" I say, launching a hand up to strike him away. "Now, do me the favor of getting out of my face. You've seen what I'm capable of here, and like you, I don't mind showing you how little you mean to me."

"No wonder your father had enough of you in the end. You drawing that gun on him was the finale he never expected. You were spiraling before. Now, you know never to go against family, Amelia." Alberto watches me for a second, scrutinizing me while he awaits my response. "Whatever awaits you back home, you had coming a long time before you shot that gun."

"Ah, but here's the difference," I begin to say, stepping forward to push him backwards so I'm no longer pinned against a wall. "I'm not the same Amelia they're all expecting back. I'm the new and improved Abbiati version you wanted me to be and I don't give a fuck if they curse me out of that damn house. I've become what was expected of me – a cold, heartless bitch who will do just about anything for her cut of the inheritance. Family’s a business, after all. Isn’t that your teaching,
Uncle Al
? I need my paycheck for all this bullshit."

I know it's not all entirely true. I don't care about inheritances, but I also don't care for others as much. At first, I thought my brothers’ separation was to give me a cooling off period, but after a while, I realized that they weren't even trying. I'm at the Abbiati mansion – the headquarters, if you will – they're welcome any day, any time. They could have busted the doors down and rescued me, but there wasn't even news that they were trying.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have better things to do than deal with the likes of you,” I hiss, really testing my uncle.

“You’re a defiant brat, Amelia!” Alberto bellows at me, and I can see that I have him right where I need him.

For all this time, I have done his bidding, but now I’m rebelling. My freedom from his life is my ultimate undoing. If I’m leaving the Amalfi Coast, I’m giving him everything I have to rile him up. Consequences be damned. Doing the right thing never worked for me, so why would doing the wrong thing grant me some more sanctum?

He shakes his head in dismay at me. “There is no salvation for a girl like you. The sooner you’re out of this family, the better.”

“But I make one hell of a hot killer, Alberto!” I tell him, continuing to tease him. “Or did the body count I left behind not tell you that already? Are you sure you want me against you?”

He chortles at my threat, holding his barrel stomach at my apparent hilarity. “You and what army, Amelia? You are nothing outside of the doors of an Abbiati home. You have no one.”

“Bruno,” I state, and I see Alberto’s eyes widen. Bruno’s departure from the family always scares them most because of what he knows. It’s another reason he doesn’t get trouble for his betrayal – he knows too much. “And I’m sure my knowledge of you and the rest of this family could very well be exchanged for immunity if I were to choose to sing like a canary.”

That rattles him some more. My blatant disrespect of keeping my already threatened place in the family.

“I should send you back in fucking pieces,” Alberto snarls, really unleashing the frenzy I’ve worked him up to. “I should take you downstairs and make you pay for the amount of stress you have caused this family. Girls like you don’t deserve sheltering from a life we have, they deserve to feel the entire pain it brings on them.”

“And that’s where you fail,” I say, applying a sweet, sarcastic tone. “You hurt me and there will be people willing to hurt you. I’m too damn valuable to this family to be hurt or disowned. Even my father saw that, but you are one kind of devil hell never made!” I then feel myself darken, my anger heating up more. “At least my father had some redeeming features. Hell, even Giovanni did, but you,” I pause to laugh mirthlessly at him, “You, Alberto, are going straight to somewhere far worse than hell!”

As I walk away, I hear him growl, “Your flight leaves in four hours, Amelia. You have to fucking pack."

"I've got my own business to attend to," I say, throwing the offhand comment over my shoulder. "Then I'll pack."

If only Alberto could see my face as I walk away. I am, by no means, as strong as I portray. I rock the boat but only because it makes me feel like I have some power in this family. Without that ability, I fear I’ll fade away. I make sure people know how defiant and heartless I am so I’m remembered. Because Alberto is right – without this family, I am nothing. I have nothing left to do but to cling on by my fingertips.

I shake away the feelings in me and replace my fear with the same stoic look I’ve worn for months. Lorenzo more than likely heard my altercation with my uncle, but he doesn’t need to see how heavily I wear the aftermath. That’s something I need to cope with alone.

“Bella! You really need to cool your anger,” Lorenzo says standing up to greet me. “It gets you nowhere.”

“I know,” I admit, meekly.

“Come here,” he urges and reaches for me.

I fall into his arms with ease, wanting nothing more than to forget everything and anything. However, Alberto bringing up Zane has me fighting such an inner battle that I’m scared will implode. As Lorenzo kisses me, tantalizing every piece of me with his hands and lips alone, I push away, refusing to fall into any sort of blissful state. It’s not lovemaking; it’s just sex to me. I love that rush of endorphins, but besides that, Lorenzo is not the man I want to settle with. I don’t want him to kiss away memories of Zane anymore, not like I have allowed him to do up to this point.

“Stop,” I whisper, my hand pushing flat against his chest. He gives me a small, doleful look. “Lorenzo, I’m going home today. We have to stop this now. We have no future. When I leave here, we’re over.”

“Then I follow,” he responds, his broken English sounding desperate for all the wrong reasons. “You leave, I follow.”

“No,” I tell him, shaking my head. “What we had was fun, but it ends here. We were nothing more than a fling. I can’t love you.”

“Well, I try to make you love me,” he says, not quite nailing the right translation again, but his sincerity overshadows that imperfection. “I can’t lose you now.”

I’ve done a lot of things in my time, but what the fuck have I done this time?

It’s like a dog with a bone; one I’m not going to get rid of soon and all because I couldn’t keep my panties on.

Fuck my life.

I’ve spent almost fourteen hours cooped up on a plane with an excitable twenty-seven-year-old tourist. That’s all I can call him right now. Lorenzo has bounded through the airport, excitedly jumped onto our jet, and hasn’t shut up about how amazing America will be. He seems to think this is a holiday for him.

He’s got another thing coming.

As the Bentley brakes, I look out of my blackened window and see the large, black iron cast gates begin to wobble as they open. Our driver puts his foot on the accelerator and when there’s enough room, he storms up the gravel drive, drawing us closer to my home. With every mile covered since we left the airport, my nerves have manifested into tiny demons, all clawing away within me. I’m haunted by them, and if anything, I think I might start to fucking throw up.

“Bella, calm,” Lorenzo says as he reaches to take my hand.

I panic as I realize how clammy it feels within his and I pull my hand from his grasp. I run both my palms down my fuchsia skirt, smile, and look at Lorenzo. He’s so sweet and oblivious, and I wonder how my uncle has been able to shield him from all dangers.

Having no surviving children of his own, Alberto took Lorenzo in as his own after finding him lost on the streets of the Amalfi Coast. He grew up in our family fold, but due to being miles apart, I went from seeing Lorenzo when he was a small child to now being a six-foot-two, tanned god. I knew a lot could change in just over a decade, but I never expected him to steal my breath away. Maybe it was the drop-dead likeness to Zane that did it, but Lorenzo is actually perfectly beautiful in his own right.

“It’s been so long,” I counter, shaking my head with some wild hope that I’ll calm. “What if I’ve left it too long?”

“If they love you like you do them, don’t worry,” he replies sweetly and gives me a small smile.

I have no time to reply as the car slows to a halt. I wait on the door to open before I clamber out as ladylike as possible, dragging my huge brown Prada bag from the car with me. I thank Matty, our driver, and look up at my house. It hasn’t changed, but I’d be a fool to suspect anything inside has remained the same. The thought, in itself, propels me to the door, and I don’t hesitate to push my way into the large foyer. The front doors are unlocked but on constant watch. My father didn’t want his guests to feel like they were imprisoned. Once inside the highly guarded walls of the Abbiati palace, you were free to go where you liked.

I can feel Lorenzo right behind me, but it doesn’t deter me because I know he’ll follow like my lapdog. I rush around the house, and I only seem to come across empty, spotless rooms. I hear laughter suddenly cut the clean air and I clearly depict each of my brothers’ tones in it. The sound has me gravitating toward them, and I feel myself become brazen. After all the hopes and wishes for a hug, it’s finally here and I want to run toward it.

However, all of my confidence disperses from me as I see them all. My brothers sit around on the back porch of the house all laughing, each with a beer in their hands. They look the epitome of happy while I’m the one cast into a dark cloud. I haven’t been happy since the last time Zane made love to me. That is the last time I can pinpoint when I thought everything would truly be okay. And while I douse myself with more and more pessimism, they’re having a jolly good fucking kickback time.

I guess life had to go on without me.

“Are you not going to go in?” Lorenzo asks, prompting me with a whisper.

I want to, but a part of me falters as I wonder how they will be react to me suddenly being back. Will they know I was on my way back? I never asked my uncle whom the orders came from. Having been out of the loop for so long, I don’t even know who’s dealing with what anymore. I can feel the shift in everything around me. This isn’t the same place I left, but at the same time, this is my home and this is where I belong.

When Giovanni catches sight of me in the kitchen, I make my move. I don’t want him to strike first, I want to surprise them all the best way I know how. I straighten up, square my shoulders, and don’t give a shit what he has to say. I’m here for the brothers who only ever sought to protect me. I just have to keep the smile on my face to see if they’re about to treat me differently.

“You didn’t bleed out then?” I say as I enter the veranda. My voice has them all whipping around to look at me and I just stand, a hand on my hip and a blasé look on my face. “Or die from sepsis? I’d have rather the latter, but I’m sorely disappointed to see you’re here looking sickeningly healthy.”

“And all peace on Earth disappears!” Giovanni exclaims, putting both hands up in the air in mock disarray. “And here, I was just getting used to not seeing your mess up of a face around here.”

“I thought it was best I come back just to piss you off,” I comment and catch Enzo staring at me. I look at him and my ice queen persona melts away. I strive to remain stoic and bold in the face of them all, but Enzo weakens me and I thaw quickly under his gaze. He doesn’t even have to speak and my walls begin to crack and weaken.

“What are you doing back?” Enzo asks, standing up. He’s the first to move and I don’t know if I should go in for a hug or remain where I am. “We weren’t told.”

“Well, then clearly this isn’t an intended happy reunion,” I joke mockingly. “Uncle Alberto told me to pack and leave. Said I was due back on business, so here I am,” I put my hands out as if to display myself more before continuing, “back on business.”

“How long for?” Enzo questions, cocking a brow to add to his curiosity.

“Well, that depends,” I reply and feel the sweat begin to pour to down my back and gather across my forehead. It’s cold and unforgiving, and I hate how nervous I am. “Do I still have a room?”

“Lia,” Enzo starts softly, working toward me, and I fear the worst. “Your bedroom is still yours. We’ve been waiting for months for you to come home. Why would you think we would get rid of any of your things?”

“For what I did,” I announce and avert eye contact. I look at the floor and argue with myself to become the bitch I was, but there is something about my brother. Within all of my destruction, Enzo is that salvation I never thought I’d feel.

“They deserved it,” Carlo’s voice erupts from behind Enzo, and I look up to find him standing there with Manuel beside him. “You didn’t deserve to be carted off like that.”

“Yes, she fucking did!” Giovanni declares, slamming his drink down onto the table. “Lucky for her, chicks dig guys with scars.”

“You’re an absolute grade-A asshole,” I snarl back, immediately feeling my venomous nature toward Giovanni envelop and unfold into this monstrous beast. “I wish he’d aimed lower.” I then smirk, feeling a twinkle of malicious intent dance through my eyes. “Maybe next time I’ll have the delight myself.”

“Dream on, Princess,” Giovanni grunts, grabs his beer, and leaves us. He stops and turns back, pointing his bottle at Lorenzo. “Nice of you to bring back another thing for you to jump seeing as Maverick disappeared. You’ll need at least one person to love you other than that bastard. Or is he just something else for you to use?”

I roll my eyes at him and look back at my other brothers. I then step back, placing a hand on Lorenzo’s back to push him forward. He needs a proper introduction because clearly my brothers haven’t picked up on who he is.

“Ciao,” Lorenzo speaks with a small, nervous hand wave.

“This is Lorenzo Mancini,” I say, and wink at Carlo who used to be close to Lorenzo whenever we went to the Amalfi Coast.

“No way!” Carlo exclaims and reaches a hand out. “You’re definitely not the wimpy kid from those holidays when we were kids.”

“Sorry, wimpy?” Lorenzo asks, confusion smatters across his expression and he looks at me in terror as he tries to work it out.

“Puny, weak,” I tell him, sympathetically helping him understand better. “He means you’ve grown some since we were all kids.”

“Ahh, yes!” Lorenzo agrees and smiles brightly. “Alberto trained me.”

Of course he did
, I inwardly chide.

My Uncle Alberto is an odd sort of Abbiati. He’s what some would called ‘old world mafia.’ While you live under his roof, you speak nothing but Italian – my stay being the one exception when staff spoke what little English they could. He made sure Lorenzo was not immune to that rule. Nor did he allow Lorenzo’s fitness to slip. I have seen Lorenzo in action and the timidly adorable man he usually is strips away to become a brute with a killer punch. Like I am –
or was
– Lorenzo is my uncle’s secret weapon because rule number is no one expects the sweet one.

“He clearly has some better qualities,” Carlo remarks, nudging Enzo. “Remember when he used to just terrorize us for being in the wrong place all the time?”

“He still does that,” I dryly add my input. I just raise my eyebrows and shrug. “He and I aren’t vast friends. I spent a lot of the last few months where I shouldn’t, sticking my nose in where I shouldn’t and causing general chaos.”

“Amelia,” Enzo, Carlo, and Manuel all groan together.

“You seriously are out to get yourself killed,” Enzo admits, looking at me as if he’s trying to work me out. “Has anything you’ve been through not taught you something?”

“Not to love back,” I chide with a scolding tone and hear Lorenzo take an involuntary gasp of air. I look at him and feel a rise of regret and pity as they mingle as one. “Lorenzo, I told you my deal back in Italy. Nothing is going to change how I feel.” I look away, almost out of respect because I feel like I’m continually punching this man in the gut. I sigh deeply before looking up. “The way I see it, is you love something or someone and when it disappears, it’s soul destroying. I’ve lived with enough grief and heartache to know when to cut a loss before real damage is done. I vowed the last time I would never go back on that and I won’t. Not even you can save me.”

“I followed you to America for a reason; I’ll make sure you love me,” Lorenzo states. He exudes so much
confidence, he really thinks he’ll win.

I wonder if the feeling within me, that insubordination to let his love in, is me running scared or because I really don’t feel a thing for it. I know that can’t be true because when I think about Zane, I feel a familiar beat in my heart as it begins to work again. It’s not me; it’s my heart that’s the issue. I will only ever be able to feel the love of one man because what we had was pure, innocent, and forever meant to be too good to be true.

“Well, we’ll have to see what the future holds,” I murmur softly, knowing I can’t win this. I have tried to get Lorenzo to fall out of love with me, but apparently he’s smitten with my tough Italian self and I can’t crack that. No amount of evil, bloodshed, or bitchiness seems to deter him.

“Do we need champagne for this party?”

I close my eyes and feel all my hair stick up on end as the voice penetrates right into the sour depths of my soul. All of my tough girl attitude melts away and I’m left the weak girl I was when I was escorted from my father’s office and placed into a car and sent away. I feel all the cracks in me begin to show; this time they come back worse than ever and the physicality of the pain they inflict is enormous.

“Not going to turn and look at me,
bambina
?” my father says, his smooth tone laces around me and I want nothing but to be back in Italy, basking in ignorance and overwhelmingly hot sunshine. “Your good ole papà has been waiting for your return.”

As he says that final line, I bristle. I feel myself pull together, hiding all the cracks from show. Like fine china glued back whole, I want to look almost pristine to him. He’s been waiting for my return? The thought begins to make me laugh, and as I do so, I turn back to face him.

“You couldn’t wait to have me out of the house,” I state, my tone tight as I make all attempts to rein in my aggression. “Nothing you have done since before that night makes me feel like you’d want me back. So yeah, we do need champagne, but only so I can drink to forget what hell I’m back in.”

“Amalfi Coast wasn’t hell for you?” he asks, smirking at me as he scrutinizing my entire look. “I know what you’ve had to do, bambina. I’ve known every move you’ve made every single day while out there. It’s good to see you could behave.”

I laugh in disbelief. “Is that what Alberto told you?” I ask, wondering what else my loving uncle has told him. “I’m guessing he left out the part where I defied even him and treated him exactly like I would you. With total disrespect.”

I see my father’s jaw clench, the muscle tick as I watch a volcanic eruption begin to build within his emotions. However, the daughter he sent away never came back. I might have cowered before I pointed a gun at him, I might have repented my sins for my actions, but now I don’t care about anything.

What use is caring when you always lose?

“Did he tell you that he threatened to chop me up and send me back to you like that?” I ask and watch disbelief filter across my father’s wide eyes. “Did he tell you how I castrated a man on my first kill over there because, if I didn’t, I would have found myself mutilated for my unwillingness?” I want to smirk at how I’m affecting my father, but I’m nervous as to how my brothers are feeling about the new me. “You both preach about how lucky I am to have been here or there, but what’s lucky about having to make a man bleed out? What’s fun about killing to save yourself?” I query, but I don’t stay fixed on the heinousness of my own actions. “Just unlucky for Giovanni, I guess because I don’t give a shit about making someone suffer anymore.”