Page 69 of Rotten Men

The outraged commotion that follows, the gasps and pleas, is like music to my fucking ears. I might have come up with the idea, but Vincent’s follow-through is a thing of greatness. A true born leader determined to send thisfamigliainto a new era—one that I can’t wait to take advantage of. Vincent raises his hand to stop all further wailing from the greedy, ancient bastards and looks at each seatedcapowith brimstone in his gaze.

“You have all been given a choice. You can either use the pen to your right, to sign on the dotted line, or the eagercapoat your back will be using the gun to end your miserable lives. One way or the other, your time with the Outfit is through. Pick your poison, gentlemen. I’ll wait.”

Vincent crosses his arms over his chest, watching each man slowly pick up the pen provided to them, to avoid the bullet to the back of their heads, as he so eloquently promised.

Half of my elaborate plan is fulfilled.

Once the elders are escorted out of the Romano estate, defeated, a new found electricity is buzzing in the air. The new heads at the table are young, ruthless, and most importantly, loyal to a fault. It took Vincent and me hours to select these specificmade men.Not only were they hungry to thrive within the Outfit, but they also resented some of its laws—ones that we were all about to change.

Our honor and code to the syndicate will now reflect our own moralities, and in doing so, not only will we able to progress and evolve the Outfit into the new century, but will also lay out the footwork to get what we three have always yearned for.

Once the newcaposleave, after all excitedly agreeing to the new terms, I slap my open palms on the table, with a Cheshire Cat grin on my face and hope in my heart.

“Well boys, now that that’s sorted, how about we get our girl back?”

Twenty-Five

Selene

I kneel before the lush, green ground, with two side-by-side headstones at the center. On one rests Lori Lewis, the woman who lent me such a heroic protector for a spell. On the other, rests James, the man who loved her to his very end and my best friend. I place a bouquet of daisies on each grave, hoping they feel my gratitude from beyond their final resting place.

“Hi, Handsome,” I greet my departed friend. “How have you been? I have to say; the world is duller without you around. I miss your face, your laugh, and your friendship. But I have to be honest, I miss your countryfried steak and collard greens, too. Jude says I can’t pull your recipe off, no matter how hard I try.” I laugh softly. “He misses you, too. We both miss you so much, James.”

I sigh, looking up at the heavens and thinking about all the people who are no longer here. The absence of James and my mother in my life—at a time that it fell unceremoniously apart —has been a daunting experience to overcome. I wish I could have just one more hug, another loving word with them, even if only for a minute. But a part of me knows they are now in a far better place than I am, and I should seek comfort in that.

I turn to face Lori, a woman who I never had the pleasure to meet, but was a permanent fixture of my days while I lived with James.

“Take care of him Lori, and thank you for lending me your husband to help me through the worst of it all. I couldn’t have done it without him. Which I’m sure you know since he’s a talker and probably told you already what you had missed in the last years of his life. He’s a good man. One of the best I was ever fortunate enough to meet. And I know he’s at peace now that he’s by your side, the place where he always belonged. Thank you. To both of you. I’ll never forget your kindness,” I confess, and wipe the shimmering tears threatening to break loose.

I get up from my kneeled form and kiss my palm, before placing it on James’ granite stone. There were so many vile events that molded me into the woman I am today, but I’m thankful that my path somehow brought James into my life. It gives me faith to know that there is still goodness in the world—a fact I was reluctant to acknowledge until I experienced his selfless kindness. I just wish I hadn’t been the catalyst for such a precious life to be snuffed from this world.

I walk toward the cemetery gates, my chest still burdened with guilt, when I see the familiar silver Rolls Royce Phantom parked right at its entrance. Leaning on the flashy car, are the three men who hold my heart in their hands and taught me how to love in the first place. My sorrow intensifies as I take each step closer to the ones I love most, but can never have.

“You boys were never ones to be discreet,” I mock, feigning annoyance at their obvious demeanor, and desperately trying to hide my misery in such taunting words.

“Discretion is overrated.” Gio winks. “And we haven’t been boys in a while,principessa.”

“No, you haven’t, have you?” I pull at my lower lip, taking in each of my rotten man’s handsome attributes. But my wandering eyes only torture me further. If I can’t have them, then why give my frail heart more painful ammo by taking in each perfect feature? “How did you find me?” I ask, willing to deflect my troubled thoughts to the mundane.

“Jude,” Vincent replies, the name of our son so softly spoken, reminiscent of the feel of rose petals.

“You didn’t have to come all this way to see me. You could have just called,” I add evenly, not wanting any of my men to see how this unexpected visit is bittersweet to my fragile heart.

“Some things can’t be said over the phone, Red,” Dom interjects, his angel-like features so much more prominent in such a somber environment. “I see you went back to your crimson roots, babe. About time if you ask me.” He smiles, admiring my long, red locks.

“I thought it’s only fitting since I don’t have to hide anymore,” I reply, looking at the asphalt instead of meeting their appreciative gazes.

“You don’t have to hide anymore. It’s time for you came home,” Gio announces, eating up the space between us and lifting my chin to face his joyful, chocolate-brown eyes.

I furrow my brow, my heart breaking for having to cause them any more pain by rejecting them once more. But before I’m able to list all the reasons why the return to my birthplace is impossible, a determined Vincent picks up my hand and places a kiss on my wrist. His smile is so bright that it knocks the wind out of me. I have never seen such hope in his hazel eyes, nor such an ethereal grin on his lips.

“There have been some changes back in Chicago,” he adds proudly.

“Changes?” I stutter, when Dom begins to run his fingers through my hair. I’m enveloped in their loving triangle, and I’m having a hard time breathing with the abundance of love surrounding me.

“Yes. A reconstruction, if you will.” Gio laughs out with his cocky grin playing on his lips.

“What type of reconstruction?” I stutter, trying to cut the winds of hope flying in my soul.

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