Page 70 of Because I Need You
And then I met fucking Isabel Bonetti. Scratch that. I didn’t meet Isabel Bonetti. Meeting her would mean I’d sought her out somehow or had been formally introduced to her. No, I didn’t meet her. She’d barged into my life like a fucking tornado, ripping the very ground I stood on and tossing it God knows where, because I still couldn’t tell you where the fuck I was standing. What was worse was that I couldn’t seem to quit reminding her that I was her husband. It wasn’t like I was actively trying to do it, either, but whenever I felt her pulling away or even looking at another man, the urge to remind her of that ripped through me. I never even wanted to get married, for fuck’s sake. It had never once crossed my mind. Not marriage, not kids, not a perfect house with a fucking dog. I liked my life just fine. I had everything a man could possibly ask for — money, power, pussy. What the fuck was there to life? So, yeah, Fuck Isabel Bonetti for stirring shit up and making me question everything.
“Where’s your wife?” Dominic asked from the front seat, not bothering to hide his amusement.
“Mind your fucking manners.” I glared at him. He didn’t know when to shut the fuck up. He was young and thought the entire world was wet for his cock. He reminded me of me at times, and that wasn’t necessarily a good thing.
“I’m just saying, I haven’t seen her.”
“Fuck off, Dom.” I sighed, closing my eyes.
“Who died?” Dean asked from behind me. He was sitting in the third row of the SUV. I was sitting in one of the captain chairs, and Lorenzo was at my side in the other. Dean was lounging in the middle of the bench, legs splayed out. Fucking relaxing and shit as my head split open with this god damn headache and these god damn questions. I opened my eyes and turned slightly, frowning at his question. He nodded toward my bandaged hands. “If it’s that bad, I’m assuming someone died.”
“No one important.”
“I thought you went legit,” he said.
At that, Lorenzo laughed. “Money laundering in his clubs is going legit?”
“Fuck you,” I muttered, but felt my mouth tug at one side, because that shit was funny.
“You know what I meant,” Dean said. “I thought you didn’t get your hands dirty anymore.”
Dominic’s shoulders shook lightly as he turned around to look at Dean. “He shoved a gun up a guy’s asshole the other day. I can’t imagine his hands not being dirty after that.”
I sighed heavily. “Yeah, let’s discuss my private business, Dominic.”
“Fuck,” Dean said, laughing. I knew he was shaking his head in the back seat.
I also knew he didn’t care one way or another. Yet, he had this concept in mind that involved all of us taking over the five seats. After all, our lineage followed all of the fucked-up bastards that came before us. The concept was that we’d fill the seats and work together. Together, together. As in, everyone’s business was supposed to be discussed at the dinner table like we were on a fucked-up version of Family Matters or something. We all laughed about it and made fun since it didn’t feel like that would be a possibility any time soon, unless we took the seats from our fathers, but it really wasn’t a terrible concept. We had all been fucked over in the past by our own flesh and blood and deep down we wanted something unconditional.
Unconditional loyalty, support, whatever. So, Dean didn’t really give a shit whether or not I’d killed a guy, but he wanted to know details so that he’d know what we were up against if it blew up in my face. It wouldn’t. I’d made sure of that. I may not have gotten my hands dirty in a long time, but I wasn’t a fucking amateur. I also didn’t want to discuss it. Everyone in this car knew what happened, whether they were there for the aftermath or not. I turned around and shut my eyes again.
“He did it for his wife,” Dom said, all prideful and shit.
“Fuck off.”
“No, I’m serious, it’s honorable. I dig it.”
“Thank you for that, De Luca. I was really hoping to earn your respect.” I massaged the area between my eyes, hoping he caught the sarcasm. Knowing him, he’d take it as a compliment.
“I just think it’s crazy that you did it and she’s not even going to stay your wife for long,” he said.
“Stop fucking talking about it,” I snapped, opening my eyes and staring at him. I swear to God if the man kept talking, I’d choke him with his fucking seatbelt. He must have either heard the threat or seen it on my face, because he shut his mouth and turned around, looking at Tony and starting back up again with the wrestlers.
