Page 16 of Claimed By Him

Three years ago, age 23

Icaught up with Frederico within two minutes. His red Porsche was easy to spot, but the way he was driving was what gave him away. He sped up ahead of me, driving recklessly, swerving around corners, and into the left lane, making other drivers hoot and shout at him. I didn’t think he even knew I was behind him, which made his behavior that much more suspicious.

I kept up with him, managing easily in my Challenger, but when another car swerved to miss him, they landed up in front of me, causing me to slam the brakes. They threw their hands up in the air when I reversed and drove around them, fishtailing as I sped up again. By then he’d already disappeared up the hill, deep in the suburban area that grew along the mountainside.

I wanted to catch up to this fucker to find out what the hell he did to Fiona, possibly smash his face in for whatever it was, but now I wondered what the fuck was going on in his head. What could have happened to make him this upset? I shook my head, trying to make sense of his behavior.

Something must be wrong. Very wrong. Unless he was absolutely senile, he couldn’t be this upset about a fight with a girl. Especially not if he managed to get that girl’s clothes off.

Christ, I’d be the happiest man alive if I got Fiona’s dress off, even if she refused me after that. At least I’d have seen the gates of heaven. I could see the red color of his car between the trees up ahead on the hill, and as I sped up after him, images of Fiona pulling that skimpy little dress down for me played through my mind.

I ground my teeth, feeling my dick stir but not allowing myself to go there.

“She’s seventeen, you asshole,” I murmured to myself. “Where the fuck are you, Rossi?” I asked, scanning through the streets on each side but not seeing his car anywhere. I continued up the hill, picking up speed, and taking the snaking turns dangerously.

I swore I saw him head up this way, but he couldn’t possibly have made it that far without me seeing him against the hillside. I pulled off the road, got out, and looked over the shrubbery surrounding me, hoping to see his car appear between the houses below.

That was when I heard the rumble of his Porsche, revving again and again as if getting ready to race.What the fuck is he doing?I walked forward, looked around the next hill, and saw him just ahead, facing the edge of the road.

“No…” My heart stopped beating. “No, Frederico!” I shouted, knowing he wouldn’t hear me but trying anyway. I walked to the very edge of the clearing in front of me, stumbling into the bushes when Frederico hit the gas and careened off the road, down the hill.

“Fred! No!”

His car crashed into the valley below, rolling once, then twice, before coming to a bouncing stop and sending up smoke.

Completely mortified, it took me a second to comprehend what had just happened before I ran back to my car and raced over there. I pulled off the road and left my door open when I got out, tumbling and sliding down through the bushes to his car. I got to his door and found the window smashed with Frederico’s limp body bleeding against the steering wheel.

Falling onto my knees, I put my hand carefully through the broken window, and felt for a pulse. There was nothing. Not even a faint beat. The blood gushed out of his head injury, leaking the life out of him. He was dead.

“Jesus, Fred…” I closed my eyes and dropped my head into my hands, taking a moment to process this. I’d seen people die, and I’d killed people. But to see someone kill themself was a whole new experience. It shocked a person’s soul, right to the core. It was completely nonsensical to people like me who used life as a source of leverage over others.

What the fuck had happened in his life for him to do something like this? Hell, I knew the pressure and the weight of expectation when you’re to be the next don in your family, but surely he could have made another plan if that was what bothered him. Surely he could have run and gotten fucking facial reconstruction before reverting to killing himself. No… it must have been something else, something unavoidable for him. Christ. What was going on in the Rossi family?

Shocked and depressed, I stood up. I could hear the faint sounds of sirens. Obviously, someone from a house below had seen the smoke. I had to get out of here, if not to avoid the cops, then to avoid the Rossis expecting that I had anything to do with this. They were the type to hold a grudge, and they wouldn’t listen to me, especially not if I told them it was Freddie’s own choice. They’d never believe that.

I jogged up the hillside, pulling against the rocks and bushes to get myself up, before turning around at the top and taking one last look. I might not have known the guy or liked him very much, but it was still heartbreaking. I quickly got in my car and headed further up the hill, passing over the top instead of heading down to meet the fire engine.

The next day, I got an early call from Ace, telling me what had happened to Alfonzo Rossi’s firstborn son. There were suspicions that he was being chased before crashing, but without any suspects, everyone put it down to his intoxication. Apparently, he’d been doing a lot more drinking and drugs than usual, and his friends at the party saw him leave completely distressed.

All I could think about was Fiona. What happened last night? Was she okay? Did she love him? Was she crying right now?

Fuck, I needed to know.

I got into my car and headed to the Moretti’s. On a day like today, I was merely a family friend paying my respects to a girl who’d lost her betrothed. No one would think too much of it. If they did, I’d say I was visiting Antonio or Huxley on business. It would be easy enough to come up with something, being my father’s underboss.

Besides, if I was going to be the next Romano don, I needed to show compassion in times like these. At least, that’s what I told myself. What I really felt was selfishness, a complete need to be close to Fiona in her time of heartbreak.

I was escorted out to the back gardens, beyond the pool, where Fiona sat under a tree and stared ahead across the estate lawns.

“Fiona, Mr. Romano is here to pay his respects,” Sophia, their housekeeper informed her, before smiling sadly at me and turning to leave.

Fiona’s head whipped around, looking at me with wide, red eyes.

“You’ve got some fucking nerve showing up here.” She spoke through her teeth, hissing quietly, not wanting Sophia to hear her.

I frowned, pulling my head back. “I just wanted to see if you’re okay.”

She stood up and walked over to me. Fuck, I wanted to wrap her up into my arms and tell her she didn’t need to do this. She didn’t need to be so angry for him, that he didn’t deserve her emotion. He showed absolutely none toward her when he left her crying in the street and then left her life for good. But I couldn’t tell her that. I wasn’t going to ruin the man’s name when it wasn’t necessary. It was better for everyone to think it was an accident.

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