Still, his belief that I could survive cemented a bond between us. I couldn’t shake how unsteady I felt after our kiss, how I suddenly felt tied to him. I became a part of him, and he became a part of me that night, whether he wanted to or not.
It should have been the last time I saw him or interacted with him. I didn’t need a person to give me hope and then wrench it away a second later when the world had already done that again and again.
That night, the Armanelli Family told me the rules. Just like Rome said, we weren’t supposed to get in each other’s way—we were to distance ourselves from the family. I should have stayed far, far away from him for that very reason.
Yet we mixed ourselves up in each other like a toxic drink, one that was bound to kill us if we kept tasting it.
5
7 YEARS LATER
Katie
Inever should have ended up at Rome’s bar. My day had been long though. One of my oldest friends had stopped in at the coffee shop that I still worked at long after graduating from college. She mentioned Rome and how she worried about him.
I almost asked her what the hell for? Rome was a beast of a man and could take care of himself. Yet, the only reason she worried about him was because over the years I’d mixed up our friend groups. My self-destructive side that didn’t care about a thing in the world reared its ugly head every time I thought of him ignoring me, acting as if he didn’t know me.
So, I kept showing up at his place of business, goading him to disclose that we knew each other through the family.
He never did. Rome protected the family at all costs, even if he’d kissed me in a bathroom all those years ago.
We passed one another with hatred and longing in our eyes but acted like strangers in front of everyone. Over time, our friends had us down as tolerable acquaintances, but no one knew the truth.
I’d ended up at Heathen’s Bar because I could have a drink, pass the time, and maybe catch a glimpse of him.
Unfortunately, Georgie found me there.
I stumbled a little more theatrically than necessary when he pushed me. Little old Georgie always liked a girl he could throw around, and so I indulged him.
Most men I dated didn't want me to tell them they were weak, that I could take a punch, or a push in this case, much harder than they were capable of giving.
See, little old Georgie had caught me flirting with one of the bartenders. He didn't want his sidepiece doing anything of the sort.
I smiled to myself when he shoved me again and flailed my arms as if he'd truly thrown me off balance.
"Why the hell do I keep you around if you're going to eye-fuck every guy you come across?" he bellowed, the sound coming from deep in his round belly.
"Georgie," I whined and tried to muster up a few tears. "I'm sorry. It's just you were out of town with your wife, and I thought maybe you wouldn't want me back this time."
He all but preened, smiling like he wanted to buy me the world. He probably could. At least enough to fill up my small part of it. He was worth millions, according to the information Mario provided. He’d been selling drugs and sex trafficking women on Armanelli ground. Even as the Armanelli family tried to clean up their business, I knew the drug selling was still a part of it. They didn’t want other gangs selling on their territory, and when they caught wind, well, someone paid dearly.
I was the bait, sent to catch the wind.
I’d finally gained access to one of Georgie’s bank accounts, and I’d snapped the pictures needed for evidence. He was on borrowed time. The rush I got just thinking about how he would pay for the hell he’d caused pumped through me.
Until Rome.
He towered over everyone in his bar and scanned the place like a hawk guarding his nest. When his eyes fell on us, he didn’t look away. He crossed his arms as his scuffed boots came almost toe-to-toe with my shiny black stilettos. With worn dark jeans, a T-shirt, and a five-o’clock shadow so overdue it was heading towards midnight, he should have looked grungy. Instead, it all added to his grittiness, enhanced his tattooed arms and menacing stare. A sign should have hung above him flashing the wordDanger, but women’s mouths would have watered anyway.
"We got a problem here, Kate-Bait?" He tipped his chin toward Georgie.
I winced a little as Georgie's hand dug into my neck. That wasn't fake. He'd found a little of my weakness by gripping me right where Jimmy used to.
Jimmy had gotten a lot meaner during my senior year of high school. He knew my father had committed suicide, knew I didn’t have a foster home to go back to, and wanted to keep better tabs on me. We fought constantly, and he usually won the fight—if not verbally, definitely physically. The man could crush a windpipe faster than I could let out a scream.
The nightly phone calls saved me from him. The men on the other line wanted to meet me, and Jimmy answered to them. That was how the Armanellis found purpose in me. They knew I didn’t mind a roll in the hay, that I listened well, and, most importantly, that I enjoyed finding a weakness. I was good at that, brilliant at it really.
Georgie was just another man in the long line of men I reported back to the family about.