Page 14 of Summer Lovin'

Pareto’s eyes narrow as he looks me up and down. “Fucking slut.”

Those two words send Romero into a rage as he flies across the room and tackles Pareto to the ground.

My father lunges at me, snatching me by my hair and dragging me toward the door. “How can you shame me like this?”

“Let me go!” I scream, scratching at the fingers tangled in my hair.

“Capo!” A deep booming voice diverts my father’s attention. He shoves me toward the bed and turns to face Frankie and two men I don’t know, one significantly older than the other—roughly my father’s age. Although I’ve never met him, I’m positive it’s Paco Mercado.

“Stay out of my family’s business, Mercado,” my father seethes.

Frankie pulls Romero off Pareto, pushing my fiancé toward me. “Take care of your lady.”

That seems to temporarily yank Romero out of his rage, who instantly turns and places his eyes on me, his gaze searching my body for damage. “Are you okay?”

Tears fall down my cheeks—fear-infused adrenaline making me tremble—but I nod my head. He pulls me into his arms, putting distance between me and everyone else in the room.

“She’s marrying my godson, so she’s Mercado family business now,” Paco growls.

My father turns to me. “Over my dead body will you marry this man, Julianna. You have a duty to this family and will marry Pareto.”

Pareto stands up and wipes the blood from his mouth, tossing a cell phone on the ground. “Fuck this, Capo. The deal is off. Your daughter’s a whore, and I don’t want her anymore.” He pushes past the Mercados out the door as I hold Romero back when he lunges for him again.

“No,” I whisper. “Let him go.”

My father is stunned into silence, but his rage is palpable as his neck turns purple. “Julianna,” he hisses. “You will come home with me now, or you will never set foot in my home again. Go through with this farce of a marriage, and I will disown you, stripping you of all your inheritance to include your trust funds.”

I shake my head and interlace my fingers with Romero’s. “I love him.”

“You are a fool and no longer my flesh and blood.” My father curls his lip. “For the rest of you, I will destroy you for interfering with my family.”

This was my fear all along. It’s one thing for him to control me, removing my freedoms and pimping me out for his business purposes, but for him to go after others and destroy their lives because of me—I can’t allow that.

“Please, Father, don’t—”

Paco Mercado holds his hand up and shakes his head. “It’s okay, Julianna. We’re not afraid of you, Capo. In fact, you come anywhere near me or mine, including the Romero family, and I’ll release the documents I have that show you’ve colluded with the governor’s office, providing kickbacks to secure the fleet refresh of Virginia state troopers’ cars.”

My father blanches. “You’re bluffing.”

“Do you want to risk that?” Frankie crosses his arms over his chest, his wide body filling the door frame. The other man, who I presume is Jesus, considering his battered and bruised face, slumps into the chair in the corner.

Paco grins, and I’ll be honest, I’m very confused how no one here is afraid of my father when I’ve spent most of my life terrified of disappointing or disobeying him.

My father looks me in the eye and shakes his head before walking out the door. “Change your name because you are no longer a Capo.”

I watch as my father walks away, a sense of relief versus despair filling my chest. Romero turns and wraps his arms around me, resting his chin on my head. “Are you okay, Jules?”

“It’s over. It’s really over.”

“Yes, it is, love.” Romero rubs my back and turns to the three men in the room. “How the hell did they find us?”

Frankie picks up the cell phone, clicks a button, reads the screen, and then hands it to Jesus. “You texted both of us your location, but Jesus lost his phone last night when he got jumped. I’m guessing Pareto picked it up and saw the text.”

“Dammit. I shouldn’t have been so careless.”

“It’s over now. He won’t bother you ever again.” Paco places his hand on his son’s shoulder. Jesus’s face looks bad, so I can only imagine what his body feels like. I want to apologize for my family—right the wrongs and make amends—but I know I can’t, and doing so would be an affront to his masculinity.

Instead, I cast Jesus an apologetic smile when his eyes meet mine.

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