Sweet Prison: Chapter 19

The morning sunlight streaming through the window caresses my skin, its rays falling directly on my chest where Massimo is trailing his finger along the raised ridge of my collarbone. A small smile tugs at his lips just before he lowers his head and kisses the little dip of my throat. I squirm, tickled by his stubble, and giggle.

He quickly pulls away. “Sorry. I’ll shave.”

“Don’t. I like you like this. Rugged. A bit wild looking.” I reach out and drag my knuckles along his jaw. “Does this mean I no longer have to eat an omelet for breakfast?”

“Why would it mean that?”

“Peppe might have let me in on how you tend to rationalize things.” My eyes find his, and I swallow the nerves that seem to have settled like a lead ball in my esophagus. “You don’t need to make up silly reasons and excuses to hover over me, especially because of unfounded paranoia.”

“It’s not unfounded, angel. The more I think about everything that happened, the more I’m convinced there’s a two-decade-long conspiracy against me. One I’m certain was hatched by someone within the Family.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, let’s see…” He reaches across me, swiping a handful of buttons off the nightstand. He must have picked them up and left them there while I was sleeping. “It all started with the steep sentence levied by Judge Collins.” One of the buttons gets placed on my bare midriff. “It went against the joint recommendation of my lawyer and the DA after I accepted the plea deal. Peppe managed to locate the bastard, so I’ll be paying him a visit later today.” Another button finds its way to just above my right hipbone. “Then, we have Leone. Although he was behind Nuncio’s shooting, I have a feeling there was more to it.”

“You think it had something to do with you? But how?”

“I still haven’t figured that out. However, just after I got back from Nuncio’s funeral, there were two motherfuckers who tried to off me in the yard. Both of them ended up dead within days, along with the new CO who hired them and orchestrated the circumstances for them to jump me in the first place. I had Salvo dig into the guard’s background and see if he could trace the work transfer order, but he came up empty.” Massimo drags his finger upward through the valley between my breasts, his touch light and reverent. “The timing of that attack and the fallout are extremely suspicious.”

“There must be some kind of paper trail. Employment records. Financial transactions.”

“There’s nothing.” Dipping, he takes my left nipple between his teeth and sucks gently before placing the next button beside it. “I also can’t dismiss the assassination attempts on Nera. Two of them. I’m not buying that Armando was singularly responsible for both. My gut tells me he was just a patsy. And getting rid of Nera had nothing to do with her directly. It was another blow against me.” The fourth button lands on my other boob. “Just like the ex-con who shot at us in the mall parking lot.”

I take in the tiny pearl fasteners scattered over my naked body. The one resting near the tip of my right breast lies just at the edge of a large patch of pale skin. It’s the area I’m most self-conscious about. I’ve always believed it makes my breasts look odd. Not sexy. But that conviction is easy to dismiss with Massimo eyeing that particular globe with an exceptionally hungry look.

“Coincidence?” I ask.

“There’s too much premeditation for all of this to be a coincidence. Someone has been going to great lengths to prevent me from taking over as the don.” His head dips down once more to lick my breast. Warm tongue circling around the button. Once. Twice. Then, Massimo drags his mouth to my collarbone. His favorite spot, based on how often he returns to it. “Seems like I’m not the only puppeteer in the Family. Someone else is in this game. And he’s been pulling strings for years. From the inside.”

I glide my hand over the stubble at the back of his head. The spiky strands tickle my palm, and I love it. “You’re talking about twenty years, Massimo. Who would invest so much time and effort?”

“Someone very smart, who can afford to play the long game. Someone with a lot of patience.” Giving my collarbone one last lick, he leans away and sets the last of the buttons between my breasts.

Did my naked body just become a chessboard?

“I can’t help but think there is more than the hunger for power behind it all. It feels personal,” he adds.

“But why?”

A furrow develops along his brow, and his narrowed gaze travels over me. “I have no idea. Let’s face it, I’m not exactly a likable guy. Every one of the capos could benefit from me being removed from the picture. With the right support, any of them could claim the don’s position. However, I just don’t see any of those pricks having the fortitude to follow through for this long. And until last week, none of them knew it’s been me running the Family all this time.”

“Salvo did.”

His eyes snap up, finding mine. “Oh, if I could only be so lucky. It would give me an excuse to strangle the fucker, and I’d do it without an ounce of regret. Can’t believe the son of a bitch dared to claim you for himself. If he was anyone else, he’d be long dead and rotting in a ditch somewhere. It can’t be him, though. Salvo’s been helping me from the start. And don’t forget that he was my age when I got locked up.”

“Then who?”

“For some reason, my mind keeps coming back to Adriano. He has the money and the connections to pull this off. He’s been offered a capo’s rank several times over the years but has always declined. Maybe that’s his strategy, though. What if he’s been aiming for the higher seat all along?”

“Adriano wouldn’t hurt a fly. He is a businessman, not a killer.”

Tiny buttons scatter all around as Massimo grabs my waist and rolls us so I end up on top of him.

“You shouldn’t speak so favorably of him, angel. I need Adriano, so I would prefer not to have to kill him because you like him.”

I snort and drop my chin to his chest. “I have no idea why you’re so fixated on Adriano.”

“Because he’s the only man I’ve ever heard you speak nicely of.”

A knock at the door saves me from having to respond to that bombshell.

“Miss Zahara,” Iris chirps from the other side. “I am so sorry to wake you. The interior designer is here with the sample tiles for the bathrooms, and I can’t find Mr. Spada anywhere.”

I’m just about to tell her that Massimo is here when he presses his finger to my lips and shakes his head.

“Why?” I whisper, raising an eyebrow.

“No.”

I sigh. “I’ll be downstairs in fifteen minutes, Iris.”

Once I hear her retreating steps, I fix Massimo with my gaze. “I thought we talked about this and came to a conclusion about our situation.”

“We haven’t.” He cups my face with his palms. “I’d kill for the chance to hold your hand in public and shout to every fucker out there that you’re mine, Zahara. But we can’t.”

“Why not? Is it still about what the Family will think of me? Because if it is, you can rest assured I don’t give a shit what their opinions are.”

“You say that now. But trust me, angel, when actually faced with it… When you feel their condemnation following you everywhere you go, see them pointing their fingers at you and talking shit behind your back…” He shakes his head as if trying to dislodge an unpleasant mental image. “I’d slice the throat of anyone who dares, of course, yet it wouldn’t erase the hurt their vicious words could cause. I loathe the idea of seeing stress and sadness on your angelic face, even for a mere moment, especially if—” He suddenly falls silent.

“If what?”

“Someone wants me dead, Zahara. They’ve failed so far, but that doesn’t mean they won’t succeed the next time. I will not let you be ruined because of me before I can eliminate that threat. The pretentious fucks would chew you up and spit you out before my body was cold.”

“Nothing is going to happen to you, you hear me?” I bark. “And I don’t need to be babied, Massimo. I can handle myself.”

“But I want to baby you. Don’t you understand? I want you happy, unburdened. But above all else, I need you to be safe. Salvo might be right—by keeping you close to me, I may have painted a target on you, as well.” He squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head again. “The thought of anything happening to you…”

“Nothing will—”

“I’ll never consciously put you in danger. I want you with me. Always. Just, don’t ask this of me, because I won’t do it. There isn’t any other way.”

I swallow. There is a way. We could run. Leave this place and go to some other country where no one can find us. If anyone could pull that off, it’s him. Although, he would have to abandon everything he’s worked for over the past two decades. I’d never ask that of him. And in my heart, I’m afraid he might not do it anyway. Not for me. I’m probably stupid for even considering something like that.

“I should go get ready. The interior designer is waiting downstairs.” I climb off Massimo and head toward the bathroom.

As I’m passing by the walk-in closet, I catch my reflection in the mirrored doors. Other than a few swaths of my breasts and shoulders covered by strands of tangled hair, my whole body is on display. The room is bathed in morning light, making every mark glaringly visible. It never even crossed my mind to drape a sheet around myself to cover up.

“Admiring yourself, angel?” Massimo smirks as he comes to stand behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist.

I tilt my head, zeroing in on the patches of lighter skin around my eyes, then shift my gaze lower. To larger pale areas on my chest. Then, to a few prominent stretch marks from my breasts growing way too fast when I was seventeen. To a few others on my hips—hips that are too wide to fit the accepted beauty standard.

Slowly, my gaze returns to my face, this time focusing on my eyes. Nose. Lips. My sister has always told me that I’m pretty, but I’ve never believed her. I couldn’t see beyond my imperfections because, deep down, I didn’t like who I was inside. Skittish. Scared. Someone who’d rather avoid confrontation than stand up for herself.

Well, I’m not that person anymore.

I meet Massimo’s stare in the mirror. His eyes burn with unabashed desire. Judging by his hard cock pressing against my back, he likes what he sees. And, surprisingly, for the first time in my life, I do too.

“I guess I am,” I say.

“Good.”

His left palm slowly glides up my stomach. It’s not as flat as I would like it to be, but the urge to tighten the muscles under my soft curves doesn’t materialize.

Massimo’s hand drifts higher, squeezing my breast lightly before shifting the locks of my hair resting over the swell to behind my back. Inked fingers glide up my chest and neck to settle on my face, cradling my chin.

“Do you want to know what I see when I look at you?” Words whispered just next to my ear. “Every time I look at you?”

“Yes,” I admit.

His lips graze my forehead. Right over the large patch of pale skin above my eye. The spot I’ve always despised.

“You’re perfect. Unique. Flawless. Inside and out.” Abandoning his hold around my middle, he lets his right hand move lower. “I could admire your beauty every day, and a lifetime of that wouldn’t be enough.” He slides his finger across my folds, making me gasp. “I could tell you how gorgeous you are, but if you don’t mind, I’d rather express my admiration with my tongue.”

I bite my lip. “I don’t mind at all.”

The midday breeze blows through the trees, rustling the leaves. It’s so gentle there’s no actual sound, yet I can still hear it. After nearly twenty years of nothing closer to nature than a patch of trampled grass in the prison yard, these forest melodies are a welcome intrusion. I stop and take a deep breath of the fresh Vermont air before continuing my stroll toward the rickety dock at the edge of a small pond.

A white-haired, heavyset man wearing a blue-checked shirt and green camo pants is lounging in an Adirondack chair, throwing breadcrumbs into the water. Completely relaxed. He’s enjoying the tranquility all around him and doesn’t even register the squeak of wooden planks when I step onto the dock.

“You’re a hard man to find, Your Honor.”

Judge Collins startles in his seat, then labors to rise from it as fast as his girth allows. The bag of breadcrumbs falls from his hand, landing in the water. Immediately, a ruckus erupts from a flock of nearby geese. The birds flap their wings and honk obnoxiously as they attack the remnants of their meal. The previously serene scene transforms into a wilderness madhouse. It’s quite a backdrop to the petrified stance of the judge. He still hasn’t found the nerve to face me.

“Been a long time since we saw each other last,” I add as I walk to the end of the dock and stop just behind him. “Seventeen and a half years, to be exact.”

Slowly, an ashen-faced Collins turns around. Despite the day not being overly hot, there’s a line of perspiration clinging to his hairline. The bastard has aged. And not in a good way. Or maybe it’s being scared shitless that’s making him look like he’s already got a foot in the grave.

“I-I… It wasn’t…” he stutters, eyes locked on the holster peeking out from inside my unbuttoned suit jacket. “I had no choice. I’m s-sorry.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Pulling the chair toward me and turning it sideways, I step around and sit my ass on the wide armrest. Collins follows my actions with wide, frantic eyes. He doesn’t move a muscle, just stands there at the edge of the dock, looking rather comical in his backwoods outfit.

“No other choice.” Crossing my ankles, I lean on the solid edge. “So, what was the one you did have?”

He swallows. Loudly. His eyes dart back to my gun. “A max sentence for you or my ties to the Mafia would be exposed.”

“I see. Who made the offer?”

“I don’t know. I swear. There… I… I received a note. It wasn’t signed, and I have no idea who sent it. The instructions demanded a full-term imprisonment, without a possibility of parole. They… they had a list of everything I did on behalf of Cosa Nostra.”

I smile. “That must have been quite a list.”

“Please. It wasn’t my fault. I… I did what I could for you. I took a risk by only sentencing you to eighteen instead of the maximum of twenty years.”

Sweat stains spread across his armpits. He looks so old and pathetic, trying to justify how he saved his ass at the expense of mine. Fucking chickenshit. Where’s that sense of honor? Of accepting responsibility for your own actions? If you do dumb crap, then have the nerve to stand behind your decisions, at least. Not this cocksucker.

If he had told me that I deserved the punishment, I would have let him go. But this?

This idiot won’t get any mercy from me.

“Can you guess who it was? Who could have sent you that note?”

“No. I don’t have a clue.”

He’s telling the truth.

I know. He would have spilled the name the moment he saw me, all to save his worthless ass.

Another fucking dead end.

No shit.

“Well, since there’s nothing else you can tell me, I guess I’ll take my leave.” I straighten and button up my jacket. Collins watches me with a mix of surprise and relief etched across his features.

“I’m… I’m glad you’ve weathered it rather well. And you seem to be in good shape. Looking good. I… I like the new hairstyle.” A nervous grin screws up his bearded face. “If there’s ever anything I can do for you… I still have connections and—”

“There is one thing.”

“Of course. Whatever you need.”

I lock eyes with the sanctimonious cunt who played a huge role in destroying my life. “Don’t make this harder on yourself than it has to be.”

For just a moment, I allow myself to enjoy his confused expression. And then, I slam my fist into his nose, sending the bastard flying backward.

He hits the water like a sinking rock, setting off a splash of gigantic proportions. The geese take flight, filling the air with a cacophony of loud cackles. Between his thrashing and the en masse departure of the local waterfowl, the once calm pond turns turbulent and murky. I step up to the edge of the dock, lowering myself to one knee just as Collins’s head breaks the surface. He flails madly, eyes wide and red, as he tries to catch his breath. And all the while, driven by an instinct for self-preservation, the birds circle in the sky over our heads.

“You know the first lesson I learned in the pen?” I smile and lean forward. “To shave my fucking head.”

My hand shoots out, grabbing a fistful of his wet hair at the crown. To the tune of resonant honking above, I push Collins under the hazy waters. He struggles, desperately trying to escape from my grip. The birds’ loud calls make it impossible for the judge’s cries to reach me, but I hear his soundless wail in my head. It reminds me of my own silent screams each time I was dumped in solitary confinement. Cries of fury and terror, while I slowly lost my goddamned mind. And wondered if I’d ever get it all back.

I hold his head under the water until his limp fingers slip from my wrist. Once I let go, his body begins to sink, his face—frozen in horror—barely visible through the sediment he stirred up. And as if straining to see across the murkiness, his glassy eyes are turned toward the sky. Toward the flock of birds still circling, forever out of reach.

Rising up, I shake the water off my hand and head back across the dock. My rental car is parked some distance away, behind some shrubbery along the side of the road. With traffic, it’ll take me around four hours to get back home. Which means, just over eight hours—eight hours away from my angel. And I’ve already started feeling the effects of being separated from her.

Anger. Dread. Shortness of breath.

She truly is the air I need to keep living.

Reaching into my pocket, I take out my phone.

Put that away. You called her an hour ago.

So what? I want to make sure she’s okay.

Awww… You are turning into a real softy.

And you’re becoming a nuisance. Why don’t you fuck off.

Ungrateful bastard! If it wasn’t for me, you’d have had nothing to come back to.

Except my sanity. Now, will you please shut the fuck up so I can make this phone call? I can’t have a conversation with you lurking and yapping in the background.

Nah, I think I’ll stick around. Seeing you riled up is always a pleasure.

Liar.

Says you!

It’s not about getting your rocks off. You want to hear her voice, too.

Psst… Did you forget? I hear everything, even when you figure I’m gone.

I squeeze the bridge of my nose. I knew that of course, but I don’t like being reminded of the fact.

You’re me. I’m you. And I’m not going anywhere, so deal with it already. And call our girl.

You’ll keep quiet?

Fine.

Alright. I nod and hit Zahara’s number.