Trapped in his End Game (Series)

Once I’ve sent Ben home, I find Marisa on my bed, sitting on the comforter. She hugs her knees and turns her head slowly to look at me standing in the doorway.

“Well, you look like shit. What happened?”

“Got into a fight, that’s all.”

I can’t see her face in the darkness, but I imagine a smirk spreading over her pointed face when I hear her snort.

My insides crawl. I just need to get out of this place, to get what Vince said out of my mind. “Let’s go out.”

“Go out? Where?”

“I don’t care. I just need to feel normal for one fucking night.”

Her legs slide off the bed as she gracefully sweeps up to her feet. “Me too.”

It takes her about a half hour to get ready, even when she’s hogging up the whole bathroom. I peek at her reflection as she applies mascara or whatever the fuck it is.

“You don’t need all that shit, for chrissakes.”

She looks up at me from the mirror, halfway through powdering her face with a giant brush. “Yeah, I do.”

“Oh, so now you’re going to argue with me?” I slide up behind her so that I can run my hands over her perfect ass. The black skinny jeans she wears don’t leave much to the imagination. My head bends around her neck. “Have you forgotten? I’m the boss.”

Her breath catches in her chest when I squeeze her ass. I kiss her flawless neck, fighting the urge to leave a huge hickey for everyone to see.

She turns around, hands lightly touching my face. Her lips touch the places where Vince punched me.

“It’s not as bad as it looks.”

“Well, I suppose you’re the expert.”

We leave the apartment on foot, and Marisa stops for a moment to appreciate the fresh air. I just needed to get out tonight. To think.

My feet pound the pavement next to Marisa’s, and I think about how I used to walk just like this for so many nights after my sister was killed, my eyes raw and my lungs burning. Just restlessly searching for my little sister. In a big city like this, anything was possible, right?

Now I feel just as lost. My position in the family is probably more uncertain than ever. My right hand still throbs from beating down Vince.

Fucking asshole had it coming for a long time.

Still, he’s the underboss.

Marisa takes my hand and a bit of warmth enters my chest from the small gesture. God, this almost feels normal. It’s as though she’s really my girlfriend, and I’m just taking her out. We walk to one of my favorite bars and I hold the door open for her, grinning. She half-heartedly returns my smile.

Her eyes are still fractured with the pain from my rejection. How can I tell her that it was a lie? That she makes me happier than I dared thought possible?

It’s a bar completely covered with wood-with oak barrels cut out as makeshift seats. Candles hang in tiny holes in the walls, on the tables, soft golden light making everyone look just a little bit more beautiful. Marisa orders one of their cocktails and I get a scotch, and then we sit together, tucked away in the corner like a couple.

She smiles to herself. “You know what we look like?”

“What?”

“Like we got into a physical fight, and I won.”

I snort into my drink, scotch dripping down my face. My hand is swollen and my face hurts like a bitch. She’s probably right.

“Imagine that-you winning a fist fight.”

Her small shoulders lift in a shrug. “You’re really not going to tell me what happened?”

The amber liquid burns down my throat, warming my face when I desperately want it to cool. “I got into a bad fight. I hit someone I really shouldn’t have.”

Her tall pink drink pauses near her lips. “Why?”

“If I told you it was because I was defending your honor, would you believe me?”

She gives me an unhappy look, as though I made a poor joke. Ironic, really.

“Who did you hit?”

My jaw tenses. “Vince.”

“Good.” Marisa takes another measured sip and looks away from my face. “I hate him.”

“Yeah, he can be a dick.” I set my drink down, studying the grain of wood through the glass. “But he has a lot of power over me, and he has the boss’ ear.”

“So? What can he do?”

What couldn’t he do? “He could send some guys to beat the shit out of me, teach me a lesson. Mock execution. He’s been known to do those. He might demand for a bigger cut.”

She stares at me, open-mouthed. “You people are a bunch of savages. Although, I don’t know why I’m surprised.”

I blink at her and throw up my hands. “What? Things are settled pretty violently, but it’s effective.”

“I’m starting to think that I have more freedom than you do. Why don’t you just talk to the guy tomorrow? Go there and apologize.”

“I was going to, yeah. It just kills me that I have to say sorry to that asshole.”

Marisa guzzles her drink, her eyes a little glossy from the alcohol. “No wonder you mafia bastards aren’t as big as you were in the seventies. If you learned a little restraint, you wouldn’t be in this mess.”

Mafia bastards? She’s definitely had too much to drink.

“We’re doing just fine, thanks. Just because we aren’t in the news so much-”

Some of her drink spills on her lap as she moves towards me. “When are you going to leave this shit?”

“Leave the family?”

A small shock runs through me. It never occurred to me. Once you’re made, you can’t just leave. Not without a bullet to the back of your head.

“I’m not going to leave.”

Marisa looks like she wants to argue with me, like she pities me, but she swallows down her criticisms and says nothing. Besides, what the hell would I do? I dropped out of school-was never good at it, really. This was what I was meant to do. Yes, there’s a lot of brutality and violence, but it’s so much more than that. We’re politicians and businessmen and thieves and enforcers-

Looking at her, I don’t feel like any of those. I just feel like scum.

“Hanging out with you in Coney Island was the most fun I’ve had in ages. It was also my first time with you. I think about it a lot.”

She blushes behind her drink as if she revealed too much, but I curl my arm around her back and bring her closer to me. She’s really smitten with me, isn’t she? A warm glow pulses in my chest when she leans her head on my shoulder. I haven’t had a girl like me like this in a long time. Most of the time, they would get clingy and overly emotional, sending me millions of texts a day until I blocked their numbers. The difference is that I like her company.

Maybe I’m just attached to her as she is to me. I can finally sleep at night, knowing that I’m not alone.

“Me too. I ruined my suit, but it was worth it. I got to have you all to myself for the night.”

I trail my finger under her jaw and lift her head until her mouth points towards mine. The kiss is light at first, but she leans into me and deepens it. Something grows inside me-my chest expands and I feel incredibly warm, but it has nothing to do with the alcohol. I’m almost convinced she feels it, too. Her face radiates warmth as she pulls away, looking agonized and blissful at the same time.

She touches my neck and I sigh at the contact. “Joe, you have to stop doing this to me.”

Fucking hell. She looks so beautiful that I want to tear off her blouse and fuck her in this bar. “What?” I ask, distracted.

“I told you I had feelings for you. You said you didn’t feel the same, and that’s fine, but-”

I take her face in my hands, forcing her watery blue eyes to meet mine. “Marisa, I lied, okay?”

Her tiny lips tremble with happiness. “Why would you-?”

“Because I didn’t want to give you false hope, but I can’t stand it when you look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’ve killed your dog.” I kiss her again, mentally berating myself for caving in so quickly. I force myself to pull away from her, to remind her that my words are worthless. “I can’t promise you anything, hon.” My thumbs stroke the sides of her face. “I wish I could, but I can’t.”

“I understand.”

The light in her eyes shifts and falls like burning coal, and my chest fills with a prickling sense of loss.

* * *

I sigh heavily in front of the wooden door.

I really don’t want to do this. He doesn’t even know I’m coming. I could still leave, if I wanted.

You know you can’t do that.

Acid burns my throat as I knock on the door, my heart beating a little faster as it always does in anticipation for a fight. His wife, Adriana, answers the door. She’s dressed in casual clothes, her long brown hair tied in a high ponytail, which makes her normally beautiful features more severe.

“Joe,” she says in a stiff voice.

So he told her about our fight. Great.

“Adriana, I’m just here to talk to Vincent.”Upstodatee from Novel(D)ra/m/a.O(r)g

She sucks in her breath, seething at me. “Get out of my face before I do something I regret.”

Brown eyes blaze at me as I cross my arms, fighting the urge to laugh. She’s a bit of a spitfire, isn’t she? “I’m just here to apologize, I swear.”

The door doesn’t move until I hear a familiar voice boom down the hall.

“Let him in, Ade.”

I give her a smirk. See? Your husband knows he’s a piece of shit.

“Lay another hand on my husband, and I’ll kill you.”

I bite my fist as I enter the foyer, a strangled laugh almost escaping my mouth. The idea of this girl hurting me is hilarious. Her fierce eyes narrow at my laughter and her mouth twists in rage.

“Ade, stop it.” Vince’s voice sounds a little embarrassed.

What kind of guy lets his wife dole out threats?

I head towards his voice and see him lounging on his fancy grey couch, holding an ice pack to his head. He gives me a steely look. Adriana returns to his side, brushing the top of his head with her hand. She shoots me another sour look that I ignore.

“You see what you did to him, you freaking jerk?”

Vince gives me a horrified look and I burst into laughter, unable to keep it inside me anymore. The house echoes with the sound. I gasp for air, my hands on my knees as tears leak from my eyes. Even more hilarious is the palpable fury on her face and Vince’s red face.

Who knew that tough-guy Vince is bullied by his own wife?

An angry look darkens his face. “Adriana, back the fuck off! Will you please give us some privacy?”

“We’re not done talking about this,” she hisses in his ear. Then she stalks past me, bumping into my shoulder as I continue to shake with laughter.

“Laugh it up, asshole.” He shakes his head when she slams the bedroom door. “I love her, but sometimes I think she wants to rip my balls off. Fuck’s sake.”

We share a smile and I walk over to the couch, sinking into its cushions. Another bubble of laughter threatens to escape when I see the bruise on his face. Fuck. I got him good.

“Look, I just wanted to apologize for what I did. I was way out of line.”

“Yeah, you were.” He glowers at me with his one eye, and tosses the bag on the coffee table, looking uncharacteristically troubled. “I’m sorry, too. I know I’m always breaking your balls. You just-you remind me a lot of myself. I’ve been treating you like a little brother, and I know it’s not right.”

Seriously?

The idea that Vince actually thinks of me as a little brother feels a little condescending, but it also surprises me in a way that makes me feel pretty damn awkward.

“I’m sorry you had such shitty brothers.” I stand up from the couch, but Vince motions me back down. I sink back into the cushions with a sigh.

“No, that’s not it,” he growls, quickly backtracking. “You’re not a little brother. I just see you making the same goddamn mistakes I did, and it drives me up the wall.”

I’ve never seen him look so agitated. What the fuck is he talking about? My sister?

I bury my face in my hands as heat burns my chest. Christ, I don’t want to talk about Janice. Not fucking now. Not again. I lift up my head and see him staring at me with a determined look on his face. Burying my resentment, I try to inject a grateful tone in my voice. “Whatever. I appreciate it.”

“Do you love her?”

What?

I laugh at the question but at the same time, blood rushes to my face. I expect a wisecrack, a jibe, a smirk, but his face is dead serious. “Marisa? How the fuck should I know?”

His voice drops and he glances to the door where his wife disappeared. “I was in the same position as you with Jack.”

“Right.”

“He told me to whack her.”

My eyes feel dry and I lick my lips. I’m only vaguely familiar with the story. It happened not long after I was made. “Why?”

He shakes his head as if throwing off an irritating fly. “It’s a long story, and it doesn’t matter. What does matter is that I sacrificed a lot and almost got killed, but I didn’t give a fuck because I loved her. I just hope that you’re not just protecting that broad out of kindness. We have no room for that in this business. Things might get ugly, and then you’ll have to make a choice. Just make sure it’s a choice you won’t regret.”

I stare at him, open-mouthed. How did he know? How did he see the struggle raging inside me? Vince sinks back into his cushions and grabs the ice pack, holding it up to his face again. I want to ask him more about why he did what he did, but I don’t.

“Adriana!” he bellows.

She steps into the living room, looking extremely cross as she joins her husband on the couch and slides a hand over his thigh protectively. He turns his head and soothes her with a kiss.

“He apologized, baby. There’s no need to look so pissed off.”

Adriana responds to his lips, her face softening as he strokes her arm. I wish there was something for me to do because I feel like I’m watching something private between them. My heart throbs against my chest as I watch them fawn over each other, and then I look away. Somehow, watching them together is like a knife twisting in my chest. My tongue curls against the bitter taste in my mouth.

I don’t think I’ll ever have that.

Vince’s abrasive voice snaps me out of it. “Could you get us drinks, please?”

Suddenly, she stands up from the couch and gives him a withering look. “Get your own fucking drinks.”

“Adriana!” His voice snaps like a whip and the fierce expression on her face falters.

It’s like watching a battle of wills. Eventually, her glare drops and she turns to the kitchen. “What do you want?”

“Get me a coke. Joe?”

“Same.”

Vince gives me a meaningful look as she turns her back: Women.

We sip drinks on the coffee table, shooting bullshit as his wife gives terse responses. It’s been a long time since I’ve hung out with anyone casually. My sister’s death drove me into solitude and I shut everyone out. Only now do I understand how much that cost me. I feel relaxed. Content.

Only…I wish she was here.

What Vince said got me thinking. Now that I’m away from her, I do miss her. I want her beside me, if only to not feel so lonely as I do right now in their presence. Love her? I don’t know. I can’t answer that question. It scares me too much.

My phone buzzes in my jacket and I pull it out without thinking.

“This is Joe.”

“Joe, you need to get over here right away.”

Jack’s voice is panicked, fueled with rage. Vincent sees me tense and motions something. “Jack? What’s the matter?”

“I can’t say on the phone. Just get to the club now. Where’s the girl?”

Slowly, my insides turn to ice. “I left her with Ben. I’m at Vince’s.”

“Perfect. Tell him to come, now.”