The Taste of Revenge: Chapter 17

‘I received all the documents from your IT guy,’ Cisco says as he guides me to his study after dinner.

‘I trust they were satisfactory?’

‘Indeed,’ he gives me a wolfish grin as he motions me to sit down across from him. ‘I must say I’m rather impressed with what you’ve managed, Raf. In such a short time too,’ he praises quietly.

‘I had the motivation,’ I grunt.

‘Even so, it couldn’t have been easy to wipe out a cartel and steal their merchandise. Especially when it comes to such heavy cargo.’

‘

it was heavy cargo we had to cover our tracks, since if we’d let anyone live, they would have undoubtedly come after us.’

‘Why weapons?’ He suddenly asks.

Amo must have given him a full report of everything we’d stored in the warehouse, and by the looks of it, Cisco seems intrigued.

‘Why not weapons?’ I retort with a hidden smile. ‘You remember Jimenez’s ventures and where his monopoly lay.’

‘In human trafficking,’ Cisco promptly replies.

‘Yes, and no. Human trafficking was what he was most known for, but he’d been dabbling in the illegal weapons trade for quite some time before he died. In fact, besides the drug business, was what Ortega claimed when the empire fell. But he didn’t have enough backing to stay in NYC.’

Cisco’s lips pull up in a sinister smile.

‘I see what you’re doing. Smart,’ he mentions and I smirk.

‘It’s one of the best ways to ensure that he have a place here. A market analysis will tell you that weapons are usually sold by one, maybe two suppliers. It’s a very cutthroat industry and relies heavily on trust. Drugs, on the other hand, can be dealt by anyone. There will always be people who buy drugs, but there is only a select group of people who buy weapons.’

‘I’m even more impressed, Raf. You are correct that the weapons trade is more…eclectic so to say. And by having an established competition, you’ll ensure that Ortega will have a hard time to infiltrate the market. Not impossible though,’ he challenges.

‘I know. Which is where come in,’ I nod at him. ‘With your support and vote of confidence, we should be taken more seriously on the black market. And given that there hasn’t been a proper supplier in New York since Jimenez, I’d say people will be hungry for it.’

‘I have to give it to you. You’ve thought this out in detail, and I admire that. Say you’ve locked Ortega out from the weapon’s trade. What about the rest?’

‘I won’t have to interfere with the drugs, since the Russians have stakes in that and will most likely intervene. My worry is the human trafficking element. I’ve gathered some data about what Michele has been doing, but it’s not much. He’s been very secretive about his investments after the illegal organ trade ring was busted.’

‘I’m guessing that’s why he’s been so loud in other areas. So people wouldn’t suspect how he gets his money.’

‘Yes. The more I study my brother the more I realize I don’t really know him. And at this point, information is really the most valuable asset.’

‘He doesn’t go out much,’ Cisco notes. ‘The few times he showed on the map was because he to create a riot—almost as if he wanted to make people aware of him.’

‘Exactly. I think he wants to be taken seriously because he realizes people talk, and my father’s death couldn’t have been an accident. There are still those who question his legitimacy.’

‘The other families have stopped interacting with Guerra since your brother took over, and it’s well known no one likes him. I may not go out much either,’ he jokes, ‘but I do know of one incident when your brother first took over. There was a banquet organized by Agosti and Michele showed up. Everyone snubbed him,’ Cisco chuckles. ‘I think that was quite the hit to his ego.’

‘I bet,’ I laugh. ‘He knows he isn’t welcomed anywhere. And from some sources, it seems he’s become extremely paranoid about who he lets by his side.’

‘And yet he’s letting Ortega?’ Cisco raises a brow.

‘Not without a good reason,’ I add drily. ‘After all, I am connected to Carlos. The enemy of my enemy is my friend and all that,’ I wave my hand.

‘Good. Now that you’ve put all this together, what’s next?’

‘Carlos will take Ortega on, since their conflict is personal, and I’ll draw Michele out somehow.’

‘Easier said than done if he’s as paranoid as you say. And you’ll still have to be careful with your movements. No doubt Michele must have heard of your arrival by now, as well as the fact that you’re under my protection. I don’t think he will dare do something in the open, but it’s better to be cautious.’

I grunt.

‘If he becomes desperate, though,’ I add grimly, ‘he can strike at any point.’

‘Then we’d better take him out first,’ Cisco smiles. ‘And I might have an idea,’ he mentions.

‘I’m all ears.’

‘I think it’s time for DeVille to take back its place in the public eye. That should send a message that we’re not afraid of a kid. And by supporting you… Well, let’s just say things should get interesting.’

My lips tug up at his unexpected offer. It had crossed my mind, but with DeVille’s notorious stance against socializing with the other families, I hadn’t thought it a viable option.

‘Why, Cisco, don’t tell me you mean to go all out?’ I joke.

‘Why not?’ He retorts on a dare.

We sketch out a few plans and it seems that Cisco’s given this some serious thought, especially when he suggests organizing a banquet and inviting all the families—all but Guerra.

Since Michele craves acceptance so much, it would be fitting to see him become a pariah in the city.

After a while, Cisco gets up, heading to his alcohol cabinet and taking out a bottle of scotch and two glasses.

‘I hope my sister didn’t give you too much trouble,’ he changes the subject and pushes a glass in front of me.

‘No. If anything, she was the model of decorum. I think she took your warning to heart,’ I chuckle, and he raises his eyebrows in surprise.

‘That’s…unusual,’ he gives a tight smile, taking a swig from his glass. ‘She wasn’t always like this, you know,’ he sighs, his gaze distant.

‘What happened? If I may ask,’ I probe carefully, a little too curious to see what he can tell me about her.

He purses his lips, taking another drag from his cigarette.

‘She’s the youngest in the family. Sixteen years younger than me. I have to admit that I haven’t always been… What’s the word,’ he pauses, his expression serious, ‘affectionate towards her.’

‘Sixteen is a big age gap. It’s understandable.’

‘I made my fair share of mistakes, that I admit. And her marriage to that man is one of my deepest regrets.’ He shakes his head ruefully, but he doesn’t offer more details on that subject. ‘You might have heard that she was in a fire,’ he continues. ‘She was found very late, more dead than alive. We had her airlifted to the closest hospital, and the chances of her making it were very slim. But she made it,’ he breathes out, and I can see the relief on his face.

Well, too bad for me that she live.

‘That sounds awful,’ I offer a platitude, and he merely nods.

‘She had extensive burns and her throat was badly damaged from a crushed larynx and smoke inhalation. But that was just the physical…’ he trails off.

Leaning back in my seat, I listen as he continues, the information invaluable as I plan my next moves.

‘The mental,’ he shakes his head, regret flooding his features. ‘We had her committed for a couple of months. She had bad seizures and was under the impression that people were out to kill her. She even harmed a nurse in one of her episodes, and that was when we realized she wasn’t well. We’ve been keeping her under surveillance since.’

My, my, but if that is true… I control my expression carefully, not wanting the internal glee to reflect on the outside, or that the fact that Noelle’s suffering makes my insides heat up with pleasure.

It seems there is karma out there, and my excitement mounts as I think about balancing the scales even more and making her rue the day she survived.

‘She mentioned something about amnesia?’ I ask carefully, my eyes on his face as I try to gauge his expression.

‘Yes. Her doctors called it selective dissociative amnesia. There are huge gaps in her memory. Mostly from the time in Mexico. But there are also things she forgot from before. She doesn’t remember much from the months she was committed either, and the doctors haven’t been able to find the cause. Mostly because she won’t take her treatment seriously,’ he sighs. ‘You’ve seen how adamant she is about defying me. She’s changed countless therapists and has missed most of her sessions by engaging in God knows what shenanigans. And it’s all in an effort to get a rise out of me.’

‘She does seem to have quite the rebellious streak,’ I offer with a smile.

‘A rebellious streak?’ He scoffs. ‘If only. Since she was discharged from the hospital, she’s been getting into all types of troubles. Stealing cars, partying with fake IDs,’ his brows pinch together in a frown, ‘she even got arrested on prostitution charges,’ he groans.

My eyes widen.

‘Prostitution charges?’ I repeat, unable to picture Noelle in such a scenario. For all her faults, that was the last thing I would have thought she’d do.

‘She says it was a mistake, but she was taken at the station with a few other women who claimed she was asking them for tips of the trade. It’s one of the reasons why I’m her legal guardian, since she can’t be trusted on her own.’

‘But are you sure this isn’t just her way of rebelling? She doesn’t seem mentally ill to me.’ I narrow my eyes at him, still unable to believe Noelle would be taken in for prostitution, especially since for all her malice, there’s a proud dignity to her that is objectively alluring.

‘Her diagnosis says otherwise. And her latest stunt was the last drop. Either she goes to therapy and gets an exemption certificate on her own, or she’ll forever have to answer to me,’ he states resolutely, downing his glass.

I don’t comment further, mostly because I can see it’s a sore subject for Cisco. At the same time, I have to wonder about the purpose of him offering up this information when he is the epitome of someone who is minute about details. Although that may make it easy to gauge him, it also complicates things since he probably has an agenda of his own.

‘If you’re so worried about her being on her own, then why haven’t you found another husband for her?’ I ask curiously.

It’s been almost two years since the fire, and anyone in Cisco’s position would have cut his losses and simply moved on to a better venture. After all, women are currency in the famiglia, and with how isolated DeVille is, it’s one of the most valuable commodities they have to make alliances with—a reusable resource.

‘She wasn’t well enough in the beginning. Now…’ he trails off, his voice distant. ‘I’ve been considering it for a while,’ he mentions thoughtfully. ‘I’ll have to screen potential candidates.’

An insane idea forms inside my mind—so insane I can’t believe where it came from. But before I can think it through, though, I open my mouth and speak.

‘Give her to me.’

Surprise fills his features, and he tilts his face, regarding me carefully.

‘You?

‘We’ve already ascertained that she’s not against me,’ I lie. ‘And I’d like to think I’m a decent prospect—all things considered.’ I shrug as I lean back.

‘Why?’ He narrows his eyes.

‘I think we might get along with time. There’s definitely something there, and I wouldn’t be opposed to exploring it further—should you allow that.’

I word my sentence wisely, since I know that Cisco’s weighing everything I say.

‘Hmm. She does like you,’ he muses. ‘But what about the issues I just told you?’ He raises a brow. ‘She won’t be easy to deal with.’

Laughter bubbles in my throat at his words, and if I didn’t know any better I could have sworn Cisco had been trying to his sister to me earlier—by making me pity her.

‘I told you she doesn’t seem mentally ill to me. Misguided? Maybe. Rebellious? For sure. Rather than treat her as if she were crazy, I think she just needs someone to give her the attention she craves.’ I cringe internally at the bullshit I’m spewing, but Cisco nods appreciatively, seemingly mulling over my words.

‘You might have a point. Yuyu and I certainly haven’t been able to give her what she needs,’ he sighs.

There’s a pause where neither of us speaks, and it’s clear he’s deliberating. Especially as he suddenly stands up, filling his glass with alcohol again.

‘I’ll think about it,’ he finally says. ‘I’ll convene with my wife and I’ll give you an answer soon. We do, after all, want what’s best for Noelle.’

‘I can promise you I’d never mistreat her,’ I state solemnly.

No, I’d just commit her to an asylum and give her what she fears the most. I might have been here only for a few days, but I’d observed enough to realize Noelle’s rebelliousness comes from a need to assert her independence. She resents her family for keeping her on such a tight leash, and her stunts are both a way to piss them off, and pretend she’s reliant on them.

I don’t think for a moment that there’s something wrong with her—mentally or physically. If anything, her amnesia might be her way of trying to avoid responsibility for her actions. And makes me even more incensed. She doesn’t get to just forget and move on. No, she doesn’t get to be happy, period.

The idea of marriage is admittedly crazy, but it’s also the easiest way to get close to her without anyone suspecting a thing. I’d earn her trust and that of her family, before I’d make it so that she has a sudden relapse and is in need of proper asylum care.

The plan taking root in my mind, I’m getting increasingly certain this is the perfect way to deal with her.

‘I know that, Raf. I’ve heard enough about you to know you’re a good man. One that’s been given a shitty hand, but a good man, nonetheless. And I think that’s exactly what Noelle needs.’

‘I’m also not one to allow her to run wild. If you give your sister to me, I can promise to take care of her to the best of my ability,’ I say, looking him straight in the eyes.

Oh, I’ll take care of her all right—by having her locked away.

‘We’ll see,’ is all he replies, but I can tell he’s positively considering the offer.

And given some of his previous actions, I rather think he’s had the idea in mind before it had even occurred to me.

We continue to talk about our upcoming plans, and I can see that for all his feigned reticence, the deal is almost done.

After more planning and a little too much scotch, I finally head back to my room. As I go up the stairs, though, the piano echoes down the hall. The sound of the melody makes me stop in my tracks as I allow myself to enjoy the sweetness of it as it seeps into my skin.

Without even thinking, my legs lead me back to the attic—the source of that divine sound. And as I put one foot in front of the other, I reach the door that leads to the attic, pushing it open and basking in the crisp sound that emanates from the piano.

It’s too late, though, that I realize whose hands are creating those sounds.

Her gasp of surprise is enough to wake me of my reverie, my eyebrows furrowing in dismay as I stare at .

Huddled behind the piano, she’s looking at me wide-eyed, the beam of light coming from the window illuminating her features and giving her an ethereal look. Her bronzed skin glints in the moonlight, her eyes two dark orbs—like two bottomless pits of eternal damnation.

My lips twitch in displeasure, anger simmering inside of me as I start noticing other things. Like the curve of her neck or the sheer nightgown she’s wearing, the outline of her body evident and infuriatingly distracting. Then there’s the slow movement of her lips as her mouth opens and closes on a silent question…

So caught I am by the sight in front of me that even I can’t form any words. For a moment, neither of us says anything. Our eyes are locked as we simply stare at each other.

Me in anger, her in surprise.

When I note her blink as her fingers moving slightly over the keyboard, a red haze covers my eyes as I realize she’d been the owner of the melody all along.

My reality shatters, my expectations destroyed.

How could I have liked music? How could it have touched me in such a deep way when all I feel for her is anger and contempt?

My enjoyment of it is now forever tainted with the image of her behind the piano searing itself in my mind.

‘What are you doing here?’ She speaks first, her husky voice hitting me like a bullet to the chest.

Why? Why did it have to be ?

My hands balled into fists, I take a step forward. And another. And another. Until I’m by her side, my hand on her wrist as I grab it abruptly, forcefully tugging her to her feet and in front of me.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ I grit out, the melody still a haunting echo in my mind, the soothing sound now gaining a cacophonous quality to it.

And yet, my brain doesn’t want to forget it. It doesn’t want to erase it from deep within, no matter how much I’d like it to.

‘Playing the piano, if that wasn’t obvious.’ She rolls her eyes at me, trying to wrestle her wrist from my hold.

‘That melody. Why that melody?’ I ask in a punctured tone.

I refuse to believe it had been her then, too. I refuse to believe that her melody had been the one that had given me warmth on a cold night when I’d felt my mind slipping from me in the desolation of my cell.

I simply refuse to believe it had been her hands that had given me type of peace.

‘I don’t have to answer you. Please leave,’ she says quietly, raising her chin and looking me in the eye in defiance.

‘Answer me,’ I demand, my voice chilling.

‘No. I said leave,’ she repeats.

I tighten my hold, bringing her even closer to me and waiting for fear to slowly appear in her eyes. But it doesn’t.

‘Not until you answer me, Noelle.’

‘Or what? What are you going to tell my brother this time?’ she scoffs. ‘That I lured you to the attic with my music so that I could seduce you?’ She laughs softly. ‘Or maybe,’ she raises an eyebrow. ‘You’ll go one step further and take my dress off. Then you could say I was blatantly throwing myself at you.’

‘You have quite the imagination,’ I chuckle at her words. ‘Is that what you want, Noelle?’ I inquire in a smooth voice as I push her further into the room. ‘You want me to strip you? Take off your dress so I can see what?’ I ask snidely. ‘Your scars? Your ugliness?’

She visibly flinches at my words, looking as if I’d struck her.

‘What… How…’ she stammers, shaking her head.

‘Do you think I’d be attracted to that? Do you think you’d be able to seduce me with ?’ I continue on a derisive chuckle, noting the shudder that goes through her and realizing I’ve hit the mark.

‘Let’s see,’ I say as I push her until her back hits the wall, her body reeling. I take advantage of her disorientation to trail my hand down the bodice of her dress, grabbing on to the silky material and tugging it down.

Her arm goes to her chest, trying to cover herself while she renews her struggles to get out of my hold.

‘Come on, show me. Show me how you’re going to seduce me with that body of yours,’ I taunt her, pulling down with enough force that the material gives way, the sound of a tear rippling in the room.

She gasps, her mouth wide open as she stares at me in shock.

The tear is small, but it reveals the area from her neck to her cleavage—an entire expanse of unblemished skin.

Her tight hold against her chest only serves to emphasize the swell of her breasts more, the sight so tantalizing it gives me pause.

‘You’re vile,’ she spits out, thrashing in my hold. ‘Let me go,’ she speaks through gritted teeth, her eyes flashing angrily at me.

‘Yes, I’m vile.’ I smirk, enjoying her discomfort. ‘I’m so vile, Noelle, you’re going to rue the day you met me.’

Without waiting for her reply, I maneuver her around, twirling her until her front is flush against the wall, her back to me.

Yes, it’s better if I eliminate all temptation, focusing on humiliation instead.

‘Let me go,’ she breathes out, squirming under me.

‘Why? It was your idea, wasn’t it?’ I drawl, the sound of her pulse combined with her errant breath the only noise in the room. ‘Now you’ve made me curious,’ I chuckle. ‘Show me those scars, Noelle. Show me that outer ugliness that reflects the inside.’

A whimper escapes her as she stops struggling. I pull harshly on her gown, the material tears once more and falls to her waist. Finally, I’m met by what I was searching for. Stripes of pink reddish skin cover her upper back, the gnarly scars just as ugly as I’d imagined.

‘Is this it?’ I ask in a brusque tone, my fingers tracing the bumpy skin. Goosebumps erupt all over her skin as I touch her, a sob penetrating the air.

‘Stop,’ she pleads in a small voice.

‘What was that?’

‘Stop, please,’ she sniffles, her body trembling under my touch.

Dropping her hand, I step back, watching as she crumbles to the floor, her chest heaving with every labored breath.

‘Come on,’ I tell her. ‘Seduce me,’ I taunt, crossing my arms over my chest and watching her closely.

She whips her head up, her eyes angrily glaring at me. Tears coat her lashes while some make their way down her cheeks. One hand on the ground, she’s using the other to hold on to her bodice. Sprawled on the floor like that, she looks almost enticing—almost.

‘I’m waiting,’ I raise an eyebrow, quietly daring her.

Her nostrils flare as she stares at me, her arms trembling slightly.

Just when I think she’s going to give up and beg me to leave her alone, she surprises me by slowly getting up. Still holding to the material of her dress, she takes a wobbly step in front of me.

I lean back, waiting to see her next move—a part of me hoping she’ll actually try to seduce me.

Her eyes never leave mine as she stops in front of me. Before I can register what she means to do, her palm connects with my cheek.

The slap resounds in the quiet room, and I’m too stunned to do anything but watch her.

‘You’re vile,’ she repeats, her small hand balled into a fist that she brings against my chest in a light punch. She keeps hitting, the rage bottled within her seemingly having reached the surface.

The corner of my mouth tugs up as I let her continue for a few seconds, simply watching her wildly seek to harm me, though her fists are nothing more than a light caress against my skin.

‘I’m disappointed, Noelle,’ I tsk at her as I grab her fist, stopping its advance. ‘Is vile the only word you know? I’m sure you can come up with something better,’ I smirk at her.

Her lips tremble in frustration at my amused expression, and without thinking, she raises her other hand, aiming to hit me again.

I catch it, gathering both her wrists in my hand, her fragility always managing to astound me—how something so delicate could hide so much malice.

‘Let go,’ she utters angrily, her expression filled with animosity.

Well, well, it seems my little liar has a backbone after all.

And…

Lacking support, the material of her gown falls, pooling around her waist, her smooth, heavy breasts naked as she continues to thrash against me, each movement making the round globes bounce against her ribcage.

I can’t help the way my eyes are drawn to the expanse of perfect skin that peeks out, her breasts beautifully formed and begging for attention as her nipples pebble right under my gaze.

Fuck…

Her mouth is parted in shock as she looks down at her semi-naked body, and then back to me.

As much as I’d like to, it’s impossible to wrench my gaze away from her. I swallow hard, my body feeling uncomfortably tight under the confines of my clothes. My breath comes out in short spurts, beads of sweat accumulating on my forehead.

‘Are you done staring?’ Her voice snaps me out of my reverie, the vehemence behind her tone catching me by surprise—again.

Given her state of dishabille, I would have thought she’d get shy, maybe cry some more. Certainly behaving like this.

‘No. As a matter of fact, I’m not. Why don’t you turn a little? I didn’t catch the profile.’

‘You’re an asshole,’ she mutters aggressively, pushing against my hold.

‘Wow,’ I drawl. ‘Good job, little liar. You just discovered a new word,’ I say just as I release her.

She reels back, but she catches herself quickly. Instead of covering herself up, though, she pushes her chin up, giving me a defiant stare and turning to show me her profile.

‘Like what you see?’ she asks on a mocking tone. ‘Oh,’ her voice goes up a notch, her hand flying to her mouth as she feigns a shocked expression. ‘It seems that you do.’ There’s a smug smile on her face as she points to the bulge in my pants and the visible outline of my erection.

My jaw clenches, my physical reaction to her a blasphemy, my own body betraying me in the worst manner.

‘It’s just a pair of tits, ‘ I snarl. ‘Don’t flatter yourself, you’re nothing special.’

‘Just a pair of tits?’ she repeats, amused. ‘Sure, .’ A derisive smile tugs at her lips. ‘A pair of tits that doesn’t leave you unaffected, it seems,’ she shrugs, her tits bouncing again with each move and drawing my attention to them once more, my eyes fixed to her pink nipples.

She clears her throat, tapping her foot as she looks at me with a raised brow, making no effort to cover herself. In fact, she’s proudly standing there, daring me to keep looking.

My lips twitch in displeasure, and with a low curse, I turn on my heel, storming out of the attic and slamming the door in my wake.

‘Fuck!’ I curse out loud as I reach my room.

‘

‘