Trapped in his End Game (Series)

It feels like a bad breakup, except my brain is too full of shit to process anything. My head rings with the words he gave me before I slammed the door in his face. He loves me. What a fucking joke. He’s either delusional or a liar.

The TV blares with an obnoxious cartoon that only serves to piss me off even more. I’m still in a towering rage-most of it directed towards myself. I throw a beer bottle at the LCD screen and it cracks. Seizing my dad’s portrait, I smash it against the marble countertop until glass shatters all over the floor. What else is there to break? It doesn’t fucking matter. I’m wealthy enough. I can always buy another one, and another one, and another one.

I wear shoes throughout the house so that the broken glass doesn’t cut into my feet, but I leave it all there, reveling in the destruction. I think of Nathan attending the next board meeting with a broken nose and heavily bandaged face, and a small snort echoes in the house. A second later, I feel sickened with myself.

All I can think is: Now what?

What am I supposed to do with my life?

Hours of flipping through channels through my broken TV screen and browsing the internet give me no answers. A rumbling sound distracts me from my laptop screen. My phone blinks with a new text message. From Joe.

I’m seized with a desire to hurl the phone across the room, but curiosity wins over rage. I open the phone.

Check the news.

A cold feeling drips down my throat as I read his ominous message, and I check out CNN.

Violation of contract ousts new CEO of Worlds Casino.

What the fuck?

I click on the article and read through it, my stomach violently churning as I read more and more. The reasons for me being kicked off the company: erratic spending patterns, drunkenness, and drug use. All of them lies. Joe was right, Nathan falsified documents and had me kicked out. The whole board was probably bribed or threatened. My stomach clenches horribly.

He’s evil. He’s a monster.

My phone rings and I glance at the screen. Jessica. A rush of hatred builds inside me, and I snatch up the phone, ready to scream at her.

“Marisa,” her frightened voice garbles on the speaker. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what he was going to do.”

“You sure as hell didn’t try to stop him, did you?”

“I did. I voted against it.”

The phone slips in my hand and a wave of relief pours over me. “You did?”

“I never wanted it to go this far. This was a huge mistake. I’m sorry.”

I bite my lip hard. Don’t cry. “Thanks, Jess.”

“I don’t even go to board meetings anymore. I met with that Tucci guy in New Jersey with Nathan, and he scared the shit out of me. I don’t want to be involved anymore.”

“That’s probably a good idea.”

“Anyway, I was wondering if you wanted to hang out, or something. Talk about all this.”

I shake my head. “No, I can’t.” My house is in no shape and I can’t talk about it. Not with her, at least. The sound of her disappointment makes me tear up. I haven’t lost my sister after all.

“Okay. I just miss seeing everyone on Sundays, you know? Ever since Dad died…we haven’t really done anything together.”

“Yeah, well. I’ve been busy. I’ve got to go,” I say in a tight voice.

“All right. Sorry, again. Bye.”

The phone goes black and I see other text messages from Joe, but I don’t look at them. Nothing can help fill the emptiness inside me. That casino was my life, and now he’s taken that from me. He stole it, and I can’t even fight back. My fists tremble at that realization.

What can I do?

I look at the black screen of my phone. The suffocating walls of my apartment. It was once a safe haven, now it feels like torture. I’m tired of being in here, but beyond that-I’m just really fucking pissed.

I’ll go to my brother’s apartment, and I break whatever semblance of a nose he has left.

I grab my purse on the counter and my jacket, shrugging it on as I leave my apartment and slam the door shut. Fucking coward. It wasn’t about my performance at all. No, he had to make all of that shit up to get me canned from my own company.

I won’t let him get away with this.

The violent thoughts swirling in my head surprise me. I’m not like this. I hate violence. It disturbs me. The murder I witnessed shook me to my very core, and I’ve tossed in bed just thinking about it. The guilt swells in my chest every now and then, even though I know he was dangerous. It still felt wrong.

Right now, though, I feel like a fight.

A group of reporters chase me in the parking lot. A woman with a microphone follows me as I approach my car. How the hell did they even get in here? “Ms. Toffoli, do you have anything to say about-”

“No!” I unlock the door and climb inside, their camera flashes blinding my vision. It makes it hard to back up, let alone see where I’m going. Eventually, my car parts through the crowd even though I’m seized with a sick desire to mow them all down.

Once I weave out of the traffic in Midtown and enter the bridge, I allow myself to scream. The car vibrates with the sound of my high-pitched voice. My throat tickles and I choke, and the harsh screams stop.

Nope. Didn’t work. I’m still pissed.

My hands shake as I recklessly park in front of Nathan’s apartment, almost smashing into a car I vaguely recognize. My feet stomp up the stone steps, rage heating my limbs. I feel so much stronger, with all this blood pumping through my veins. I smash my fist into the door, hurting it. Then again, and again.

“Come out, you fucking coward!”

I raise my leg and kick it hard. A strangled laugh tears from my throat when black scuff marks from my shoe smear on the door. I’m there for at least five minutes, swearing at the door at the top of my voice, but nothing happens. A neighbor peeks out of her door to stare at me. I ignore her and jog back down the steps, almost bumping into a man standing on the street.

Move out of the way, you fucking jerk.

In a blind fury I grab one of the loose rocks sitting next to a tree and I bounce it in my hand. I hurl it at his window, and to my surprise it blows a fist-sized hole through. The glass splinters and cracks, and I bend over to seize another rock. There’s a pair of shoes right beside them. My eyes travel up two legs covered in jeans and up to a trim waist and leather jacket, all the way to his jutting Adam’s apple and sinful brown eyes, wrinkled in amusement.

“Never would have pegged you as a hooligan.”

He stands in front of me as brazen as brass, even though I told him I never wanted to see him again. A leap of happiness soars in my stomach, but anguish drowns it almost immediately.

“Never would have pegged you as a murderer. Have you been following me?”

That wipes the amusement from his eyes. “Yeah. I knew you were probably very upset, so I wanted to keep an eye on you.”

I haven’t forgotten the confession he made the other day. That he loved me. There was a time when I would’ve been overjoyed to hear something like that. Now?

“Did you forget that I never want to see you again?”

He looks away and his face burns, as if I’ve struck him. His hand grabs mine and suddenly I feel very tired. It’s comforting to feel his touch, and hating him is exhausting.

“No, I didn’t forget.”

Am I insane?

Yes, you are.

I slip my hand out of his grasp.

“Take a walk with me,” he urges. “Before the fucking cops show up.”

“Fine.”

His footsteps rush to catch up to me as I toss the rock aside and walk down the sidewalk at an extremely brisk pace.

“I’m really sorry for everything in the papers.”

I grit my teeth. “What are you going to do? I have a brother who would rather see me smeared in the public than win the right to be President fairly.”

“Jamie is probably behind it. Jamie Tucci. He’s done shit like this.”

That man in the restaurant with bullet holes. We stop at the street and I pound the crosswalk button. Joe leans on the streetlight pole leisurely, looking downright sexy as the wind plays with his hair and jacket. It hits me hard, and I suddenly feel morose. I’m supposed to be furious with him.

He takes my hand and I let him. God, I just want to be normal. Is that so much to ask? Hand in hand, we cross the street and enter a small park. I sit down on the first park bench I see and Joe sits beside me.

“What are you even doing here?”

His arm extends over the park bench, his hand resting right behind my head. He brushes my hair with one finger, and I feel the light touch like a jolt of electricity. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Marisa. I meant what I said, and frankly, I don’t feel okay with leaving you alone. I know you must be really upset.”

Yeah, I am.

The cold stings my eyes and they burn. I can’t trust a word that comes out of his mouth, as much as I want to.

“You were willing to put a bullet between my eyes a few days ago. I can’t forgive that, I’m sorry. I think I deserve someone better.”

A light touch of my shoulder as he parts my hair sends a shudder down my body. God damn it. Heat travels to my chest from his fingertips. Clearly, my heart hasn’t gotten the memo from my brain. This man is bad for me. I don’t want him. I shouldn’t.

“You do deserve someone better. Well, too bad, sweetheart. I got here first. I love you and I’m not letting you go.” His fingers brush over mine as silence falls between us. I don’t know what to say to him. Part of me is vehemently opposed. I want to fight him. The other, stronger part just wants to give in and let his words seep into my skin.

His voice drops and becomes more human. “And I am really sorry for what I did. I hate myself for hurting you, but I miss you and I think you miss me, too.”

Joe’s facial hair is a little more stubbly than usual. There are more creases around his eyes, which look so goddamn sad. It’s as if he didn’t take care of himself for a few days. Then he slides closer without asking for permission. His warm hand anchors on my shoulder and pulls me against his broad chest, and I let him. His head bends and he kisses me, his arms wrapped around me as if he actually loves me. I feel something stirring in my chest for him, too. I can’t fight it. I’m so fucking exhausted.

“Kill Jamie Tucci and we’ll be square.”

He’s silent for a moment, and then he smiles mysteriously. “Careful what you wish for.”

I swallow hard. I hadn’t really meant it. Did I?

“I’m going to meet him.”

Joe’s eyes blaze. “Why?”

“Because he slandered my goddamn name. Maybe there’s something I can do-something I can say that’ll make him-”

A finger trails down my cheek and I look into his pitying eyes. “Honey, you can’t make a man like him do anything.”

I bristle at him. “I’m going to have a talk with him, regardless.”

“Stupid idea. You’ll only get yourself hurt.”

“I’m going.”

It is a stupid idea, but my head is consumed with it. I can’t just let him get away-I can’t.

“I can’t take this lying down, Joe.”

“You don’t even know where he is!”

“Yeah, I do. It’s a restaurant filled with bullet holes in Newark.” I stand up from the bench, but he catches my arm and pulls me back down.

His eyes narrow. “I know the place you’re talking about. It’s way too dangerous.”

“Well, I made it back from there in one piece.”

Joe’s face turns ugly. “Only because they wanted you to.”

“Maybe I can get him to confess to something and record it on my iPhone.”

He shakes his head angrily. “Marisa, you’re being an idiot. You will get killed.”

Heat singes my throat. “You don’t fucking get it. You’re just a mobster. What the fuck do you care about your reputation? This is my life. How am I ever supposed to get a job again with these accusations? I can’t just forget about it.”

“Then I’ll go with you.”

“No-”

His fingers bite into my arm and he gives me a deadly look. “Marisa, I’m not letting you go there alone. Don’t test me.”

I struggle with myself, consumed with the urge to deny him. Those brown eyes won’t let me go. There’s no denying them.

“Fine,” I utter finally, “but we’re taking my car. I’ll drive.”

Yes, I’ll drive and he will have to just deal with it.

Joe clenches his teeth and simmers. “Fine.”

Seized with a surge of energy, I stand up from the bench. “Let’s go.”

“Now?”

“When the hell did you think we would go?”

Joe scowls at me and walks by my side. “There has to be a way I can change your mind about this.”

My nostrils flare. “Nope. Not going to happen.”

My feet kick through the leaves scattered in the park. Grey clouds are broken by tree branches overhead, and I see the road, slightly reflective with rain. I’m not dressed for the rain, but I don’t care. Without even looking, I step into the street and a hand pulls me back. Joe’s voice yells in my ear, swearing loudly as a car barrels down the road.

“Fuck you!”

The driver’s insult rings in my ears. The close brush with death rolls right off my shoulders like the rain. The car speeds down the street and disappears. Joe keeps me clamped to his side, his grip painful on my arm.

“Jesus, Marisa!”

I yank my arm out of his grasp without a thank you. Suddenly, my anger’s back in full force. Fuck him for pretending to care. I don’t care what he says. I can’t forgive him for what he did.

He didn’t have a choice.

Fuck that, too.

The rain pelts my head as we cross the street, Joe’s hands deep inside his jacket pockets as he walks. He looks deep in thought, his face pinched in a worried expression.

Rain splatters all over my hair, chilling my skin. It soaks through my thin cotton long-sleeve and I shiver slightly. I unlock my car and we get in, Joe settling in the passenger’s seat.

I sit there for a moment, my wet hair dripping onto my forehead. The cold drops run down my face like tears. I turn the key in the ignition and haul ass out of Brooklyn.

Joe shoots me unhappy looks as I drive. His mood spreads over me like an oppressive fog and I clench my teeth.

The rain makes New York’s streets slimy. It’s as if it’s purging all the filth from the city, washing away all the exhaust and the cigarettes littered everywhere, but I don’t feel purged. I feel rotten. The anger coursing through my veins is like poison. When we pass Jersey City, Joe shifts in his seat and takes out his gun, checking the chambers.

“What are you doing?”

“Making sure everything is in order. If I had known we were going there, I would have brought a different gun.”

A leap of anxiety settles in my chest. “I really don’t think that’ll be necessary.”

The car is silent for a moment except for the pattering of rain.

“You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”

I give him an angry look. “Yes, I do. If he’s a businessman, he’ll listen to sense.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

I shrug. “I’ll go to the police.”

“What?”

The pitch of his voice alarms me. “They ruined my reputation, Joe. What do you expect me to do?”

“That is not an option,” he says in a dark voice.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do, not after what you did.”

“Marisa, be smart! They will kill you if you go to the police. I can guarantee you that.”

“But-”

“You can’t expose them without exposing us, and then you’ll have both families after you. You won’t stand a chance.”

“This isn’t fucking fair!” I pound the steering wheel and feel a rush of tears behind my eyes. “This is my life.”

If what he says is true, I can’t possibly go to the police. No matter how angry I am, I don’t have a death wish.

So I’m supposed to be seen as a drunken moron who spent tens of thousands of her daddy’s company irresponsibly?

His hand snakes over my lap and gently touches my thigh. “I’m sorry.”

In tears, I look at him. Why does he even care? “Why are you doing this? Why do you care about what happens to me?”

“You helped me more than you know.”

“I didn’t do anything for you. You haven’t told me one reason why you think you love me.”

“I don’t think,” he says in a voice with an edge. “I know.” Then a smile twitches on his face. “I love you because you’re fun to be around, because you make me laugh. I love you because you changed my life. I don’t feel like I’m drowning anymore.”NôvelDrama.Org content rights.

Tears prick the corners of my eyes, and I suck in my lip biting it to keep from trembling. I take the hand resting on my thigh.

“Believe me…I care about you more than I care about myself. That’s why I’m going with you on this fucking thing.”

Air somehow returns to my lungs. “What do you mean?”

“We’re at war with Carmine’s outfit. I’ll be lucky if they don’t shoot me on sight.”

Suddenly I realize the consequences of Joe being so far away from New York, with no back up. If he got shot because of me-a sick feeling rises in my chest-I’d feel horrible.

“Maybe you shouldn’t come.”

“I shouldn’t, but I will.”

And nothing I say will stop him. He gives me a beady look, and I realize he’s determined to follow me right into gunfire if that’s what it takes.

I can’t really describe how that makes me feel.

Joe tenses when we drive into Newark, his eyes scanning the crumbling streets as if he expects to get shot. It’s not hard to find the restaurant. Joe swears under his breath when we drive past it.

“If they’ve been here the whole fucking time, I’ll laugh.”

I park a few blocks away from the restaurant and we get out. His head whips down the streets.

“Listen, maybe you should let me do the talking. In my world, it’s unusual for a woman to seek out an underboss like this.”

Sexist pricks.

“I’ve talked to him before, remember?” I say to his wide-eyed face. “It’ll be okay.”

My guts churn as we walk closer to the restaurant, Joe gripping the gun inside his jacket. I notice that there are actual beads of sweat on the side of his face. I’ve never seen him look like this. He’s actually scared.

There’s no guard outside the restaurant. Joe grabs my arm, his hand like ice. I wince and open the door towards me, stepping inside the dilapidated restaurant. The tiles slide under my feet and the walls are still a fucking mess, the plaster ripped with bullet holes. Joe swallows hard beside me.

“Jesus Christ. So this is where it all went down.”

His voice echoes in the deserted place.

I wonder if I imagined it all. Were the men who abducted me ghosts? Did they materialize out of thin air? I don’t feel ashamed to hold Joe’s hand, not when so much violence happened here.

Why the fuck am I here?

“Who the fuck are you?”

I’m shoved to the side as Joe whips out his gun, aiming it toward the voice. I hunch down as Joe stretches his arm, his jaw clenched. “We’re here to talk to Jamie Tucci!”

“Put your fucking gun down, asshole. The boss don’t hang around here.”

The man approaches Joe, hugging the side of the restaurant. He points a gun at his face.

I stand up warily. “This was where I met him.”

“I know you. You’re that fucking asshole who killed Frank.”

It was such a bad idea to come here. “You need to call your boss and tell him to come here. Tell him one of the board members of Worlds Casino wants to talk with him.”

He moves closer in the light, still pointing a gun at Joe. He’s a slim, balding man with round, black glasses. His overlarge ears make me think of bats as he slips his hand into his jacket and pulls out his cell.

“Who are you?” he asks me.

“I-I’m Ms. Toffoli. I met him here.”

He gives me a Cheshire cat-like grin. “I don’t know who the fuck you are, but I know the boss wants to get his hands on him.”

The men move around each other carefully. They both jump when I back into a wooden table and Joe looks away, swearing. “I just came here to talk.”

“I don’t give a fuck why you came here. You’re here.”

Fuck.

Joe gives me an anxious look as the man opens his phone. We wait for a few tense minutes for Jamie and his men to arrive. They walk in like overweight rats, filthy and beady-eyed except for Jamie, who looks like a suave businessman. The black suit he wears makes his pale skin shine, and his grey hair is slicked back. He gives us a grin very much like the man who holds the gun against Joe’s temple.

“You’re outnumbered. Drop the gun.”

Oh, God. What have I done?

I force my voice into an even tone. “Mr. Tucci, this is unnecessary. I only came here to talk to you about your recent-ah-acquisition of my company.”

“Why is he here, then?”

I glance at Joe. “Frankly, after what happened last time, I didn’t feel safe coming here alone.”

“I don’t think there’s much to talk about. The sale will go through, Ms. Toffoli. There’s nothing you can do to change my mind.”

“How about the fact that I could go to the police and tell them that you intimidated my shareholders and convened an illegal board meeting without me present. All decisions made during that illegal meeting are irrelevant, because I wasn’t there. Do you still think there’s nothing to talk about?”

The men around him instantly tense and Joe gives me a furious look, but Jamie’s smirk widens.

“All right. Guys, would you give us some privacy? Put the gun down, Georgie.”

Blood seems to melt from my face as they lower their guns. Joe tucks it back in his waistband, looking nervous but relieved. Somehow, my limbs unfreeze and I walk towards a booth. I slide into the red vinyl and Joe’s warmth joins me. He touches my leg gently and gives me a warning squeeze.

Remember who you’re dealing with.

I’m on the precipice of life and death with this guy. He doesn’t strike me as someone who can be conned, threatened, or manipulated. Maybe he’s still willing to listen to reason. I’ve already accepted that it was a terrible mistake coming here, but I’m determined to make something out of it. I can do this.

Jamie pats himself down as he sinks into the chair across the table. His fine eyebrows narrow.

“Just so you know, Ms. Toffoli, I don’t respond well to threats.”

Oh, go fuck yourself.

“Neither do I.”

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you both.”

My back straightens and a chill creeps up my spine. I wonder why I’m not more afraid; he certainly has the ability to kill me. Maybe my body is keeping myself calm out of self-preservation.

“Look, I just want you to make a statement retracting the claims you made against me. You do that, and I won’t go to the cops.”

“Why do you even care? Do you know how much money you’re going to get from those shares?”

“I could give a shit about the money. You’ve ruined my reputation. I’ll never be able to get a job again.”

Harsh fingers pinch my leg. I throw Joe an irritated look.

Jamie nods sagely and leans in. “How about this? You get the fuck out of my restaurant before I kill both of you. You’re in no position to bargain with me.”

My shoulder wrenches as Joe yanks me to my feet. “We will.”

“It was a mistake coming here, Ms. Toffoli. You better watch your back from now on.” He laughs at my blanched face, and turns towards Joe. “And you. Consider yourself lucky that it’s the middle of the day, and we’re in a public place. You’re a dead man.”

“Maybe I won’t go to the cops-”

“Dammit, Marisa, be quiet-”

“Maybe I’ll go to Forbes magazine and give them my side of the story. You don’t think I can’t do damage to you? You’re wrong.”

Joe’s grip around my shoulders is bruising. “Shut the fuck up!”

The underboss stands from the table, his features thickened with rage. “You should leave while you still can.”

We’re already halfway out the door before the last words falls from his lips. Joe shoves me as soon as we enter the rainy outdoors. “What the fuck were you thinking? You’re going to get us both killed!”

My heart pounds as I stumble from his shove, my shoes slipping in the rain. I feel like I’m going to burst. All of it’s so goddamn unfair. “I was trying to save our asses by giving him something to fear from us. Also, yeah, it matters to me that the whole world thinks I’m some kind of drunken embezzler!”

“Why the fuck would you antagonize him like that? Oh, what the fuck-let’s just get the hell out of here before I get shot.”

He grips my arm and pulls me down the street. Anger rustles in my chest when he grabs the keys from my hand and opens the passenger side door. Fucking control freak. I slide into the seat and glare at him as he takes the driver’s side.

Joe yanks on the parking brake and we peel out of there. “Do you want to tell me what you were trying to achieve there? Because you just royally pissed him off, and now he’s out for blood. You do realize that, right?”

I clench my hands into fists. How can he not see this as a victory?

“Now he has something to fear from me, and that’s leagues better than being someone who can get screwed over whenever he decides.”

“I don’t know, Marisa.”

He looks out the window despondently.

I don’t know either. I’m not sure of anything, except that allowing them to fuck with me was too much for me to handle. We drive back to Brooklyn and my nerves settle down like a pot of boiling water. The danger recedes and I feel removed from it all, back in the safety of New York. Joe parks the car and closes his eyes as if he’s had a long day.

He unbuckles himself and turns towards me, his brown eyes unsure. My chest swells as he leans forward, his cologne breezing around his neck as he kisses my cheek. It’s like a hot seal against my skin, and a fluttering rises in my stomach. Then it disappears, the cold pricking my skin as he pulls away and puts his hand on the door.

My hand catches his before he slides out of the car.

“Thank you for coming with me.”

A small smile cracks over his face and he raises my hand to his lips, kissing it.