Page 6 of The Burnt Heart

“I thought I would get here early so I could peel you up off the floor and show those boys what they were missing.” She admitted, and I swept a hand down my body, shimmying to move the myriad of fringes on the mauve dress. Lara clapped her hands and twirled her finger.

“Spin, you look beautiful, the dress is so gorgeous. Especially that fringe,” she said, and I obliged, circling on my strappy heels and letting the dress move around me. A layered skirt and cutaway shoulder of long fringes sewn into a racy bodice. My considerable assets pushed together like edible delicacies. The back was low cut, diamante strands grazing my lower back.

Logan was a fan of nineteen twenties flapper girls, a kink I’d discovered after we’d gone to a burlesque show. He’d watched the girls divest themselves of their fringe dresses, eyes hazy.Afterwards, he’d taken me like an animal, mauling every inch of my skin with a hunger I missed. He normally preferred to let me have control of him in the bedroom. So, I’d had this designed as a nod to his proclivities, wondering if we might get a repeat of the same passion. My curves were a weapon in this dress, soft and deadly.

Now he could watch me and know it would never be for him to touch. He could stew in regret for his harsh words. Even if I knew they were only said to secure funding for their business.

Oh yes.

Whatever halfcocked plan they had decided upon had taken me all of five minutes to persuade out of my father. He certainly wasn’t about to deny the truth from his daughter. Not when he owed me for single-handedly saving our family’s massacred reputation. I recalled the terse phone call I’d had.

“Father.” I stared down at my phone cradled in my lap. I wriggled under the warm cream blanket Lara had tucked me into. She was sitting across from me, disbelief etched on her forehead from what I had confided. She didn’t believe my boyfriends would do this either.

“Bambolina, if this is about Crimson Claw, I have it in hand.” My father’s rough voice sifted through the phone speaker.

“What, no. What about the Crimson Claw?” I was momentarily distracted. It wasn’t often we heard about the motorcycle club that ran the southern corridor below Greenich Bay. They were too busy brawling with their rival club. They had a reputation for hot-headedness. And violence.

“Sightings of them hanging around the fringes. But what was bothering you?” He was used to me calling over the past year with my ‘strange requests’ but he muttered the nickname with warmth. I’d always been a daddy’s girl. Now that mom was no longer with us, we were closer than ever.

“Tell me, Father, did you have anything to do with the unusual discussion I just had with my men?”

He grumbled under his breath, still scandalized by the casual way I claimed three men as my own. It had taken many years for him to recognize that I would not capitulate into the ideal Italianprincipessawife. Like my grandmother pretended to be. He had gone from hating Jesse, Logan and Briar to tolerating them, but had never given his express approval. It had been a point of contention, one that I had thought kept them from proposing. They wanted his acceptance, permission, even though I stated I didn’t need or want it.

I had only wanted to be theirs.

What society deemed acceptable didn’t matter to me. I thought they agreed with me. I’d considered us forever. A fluke fate had written in stone. Fairytales were laced with lies.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” his reply was slow, but his voice betrayed him. The slightest hike at the end, an imperceptible whine. My nostrils had flared, knowing him too well to allow him to lead me astray.

“You do, and you will tell me,” I warned, my fingers clutching the rug around my thighs. Lara scooted down the couch and tangled our fingers, squeezing. Offering her support. I shot her a grateful, if wobbly, smile. I hadn’t allowed myself to process yet, still stuffing my emotions deep down until I had no choice but to break. My mind was racing with a dozen different theories and the weight of them was overwhelming.

“Pleasebambolina,” he began, sighing harshly.

“Don’t pretend I am a child to be corralled. Tell me what you know,” I hissed, and heard the surprised inhale he made. I was usually a dutiful, respectful daughter. But not this time. I wouldn’t let him get away with playing games when I could bully him into telling the truth.

“Harold Donato. He has a son your age,” he conceded, through his teeth.

Raimondo Donato. Ray, as he liked to be called. ‘Taillight Ray,’ they whispered behind his back.

I sneered, baring my teeth to Lara as I dusted off the murky memory of his brutal rejection. Only son of the rival crime family in Greenich Bay. I knew him alright; he was a silvery scar that marred my soul. Forgotten but still marked. Pain long wiped away, but not forgotten.

Eighteen, fresh faced and keen. His offhand comment had sent me fleeing over a wire trimmed wall. Right into the arms of my lovers. Deep in the depths of the overgrown lot on Calder Place, we’d crashed into each other. The courses of our lives melding together until Jesse’s fateful words yesterday. What kind of cosmic joke was being played on me to have that man involved in my breakup?

“He’s in a spot of trouble,” I hedged, my eyes focusing on the pulls of the blanket.

“Indeed. And he’s unmarried,” father said. The implications sending a myriad of pings careening through my mind.

Raimondo had flourished under the demise of our fledgling arranged marriage. The idea had fizzled in the face of his rude rejection. But a truce had been called at my insistence, for his disrespect. Our families existed in Greenich Bay, understanding that anything past the Berwick Tunnel to the bay was Orazio territory. Ray had gone onto establish his reputation as a player, sleeping with anything that moved. With his face, it wasn’t hard, and he showed no signs of settling down. Unfortunately, he had a habit of drinking while driving. They had arrested him at least three times under the influence, and there were persistent rumors that he was behind the deaths of several missing persons.

It seemed he’d gained a proclivity for a certain way of dealing with traitors to the Donato family. But his delightful, creative way of killing others had caught the attention of more than one person and inspired the nickname “Taillight Ray.” He hadn’t been charged with anything, but it was only a matter of time. My spine tingled, and I barked an empty laugh, understanding what was happening. Now the idea of this butter ball was convenient.

“I would never accept him,” the tendons in my throat taut with conviction.

“Harold doesn’t, and he’s desperate,” father warmed to the story. “Would it be so bad? I know you care for those ruffians, but they don’t deserve you. Regardless, this method is better than the initial one I heard he was considering.”

My stomach dropped, and I couldn’t contain the moan that escaped my throat. People were disposable in this ruthless world. Had he intended more drastic methods for the men who had broken my heart? I hadn’t spent six years shielding them from the dangers of my world for them to end up hurt. Even if I hated them right now. Harold Donato needed an image overhaul. His reckless son had strolled too far into the spotlight, just like Antoni Orazio had. If not for me, he might be in prison. Why were my men mixing with the Donatos? Did they even know who they were dealing with? I had told them of my past with Raimondo but had deliberately kept them apart from this world. Their childhood had been tough enough. I didn’t want them to spend the rest of their lives in danger. Or for the pressures to affect them negatively. I had seen what happened to the people this world broke.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” My voice cracked.

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