Beast I Can’t Tame by L.K. Shaw

Chapter 1

Francesca

I hate funerals.

Not that I’ve been to many. The last one I attended was my father’s when I was six. Before that, there was Aunt Rosalie’s, although I don’t remember hers. I do remember my father’s, though. Mostly, I remember my mother not shedding a single tear.

That’s not the case at Uncle Sal’s.

Brenna, Mila, and I stand at the back of the sanctuary of the family church near the aisle between the last two rows of pews. Despite the fact Brenna is the most powerful woman in the room, she still manages to stay near Mila and me and adopts our wallflower status.

“You would think she’s his widow, the way she’s carrying on.” I lean over and whisper to Mila.

She watches my mother wail with a wide-eyed expression. “It does seem a bit…extreme.”

I snort at the understatement. My mother has never been the nicest woman. I always tried being the dutiful daughter, but no matter what I did, it was never good enough. I was never good enough. So, I stopped trying.

My gaze travels around the crowded church. Funerals, along with weddings, are the rare time all the families within the syndicate are in the same room together. I forget how many of us there are.

Standing against the wall, under the massive stained-glass windows depicting a scene of worshippers surrounding Jesus, is a small cluster of men, including my brother. My cousin is next to him. He stands tall and powerful, but there are lines of sadness and fatigue in his face.

“How’s Jacob doing?” I ask Brenna, who’s been quiet most of the afternoon.

“I have no idea,” she sighs. “He’s gone to meeting after meeting ever since we got the call from Marta. I’ve been asleep when he finally comes to bed, and he leaves before I wake up. We’ve barely spoken in a week.”

“Pierce hasn’t been home much either,” Mila adds.

“I just wish he would talk to me.” Brenna’s expression softens as her gaze travels across the room and lands on Jacob.

A pinch of envy grips me. The love she has for my cousin is obvious. It’s in the way she touches him. Looks at him. It’s even more obvious that her love is returned.

I want that.

I want someone to look at me the way Jacob looks at Brenna. The way Pierce looks at Mila. No, not someone.

Giovanni.

As if by magic, he enters the sanctuary. My breath catches in my chest. His dark brown hair is damp, making it appear nearly black, and it’s slightly curled around his ears as though he recently stepped out of the shower. The dark suit doesn’t quite fit—the single sleeve of his unbroken arm is a little too short, and the shoulder seam strains—but Gio still strikes an imposing figure. He adjusts his tie and rolls his neck, as though not entirely comfortable wearing it.

My lips turn down. His limp is even more pronounced than it was last week. He’s supposed to be taking it easy. He just got out of the hospital a few weeks ago. I take a step forward, about to march through the room full of people and scold him, but Jacob calls him over to their group.

“Is it just me, or did Gio look a little pale?” Brenna asks.“He’s pushing himself too hard,” I tell her. “He won’t admit it, but I know he’s still in a lot of pain. The doctors said it could be months before he’s fully healed. He almost died, but you wouldn’t know it by the way he’s acting.”

There’s a twinge of guilt inside my belly, because a small part of me hopes he remains, not in pain, but not at his full strength. He can’t hurt me if he’s still a little weak.

No matter how many times I tell myself that Gio would never hurt me, a niggle of doubt always manages to creep in. I need another session with Theresa soon.

“I remember the first time I had to tend to one of Jacob’s wounds,” Brenna says. “He’d gotten shot in the arm. Wouldn’t take any pain medicine. He had me, instead of a doctor who actually knew what he was doing, take care of it. It had to hurt, but he barely flinched. It’s like these men can’t show any signs of weakness.”

“He’s tryingto prove that he can still be trusted with his duties,” I tell her.

Brenna stares at me in disbelief. “Of course he can be trusted. He’s being ridiculous. I knew he was going to blame himself for what happened that night.”

Gio was had been assigned as her bodyguard, and the Russians had managed to take her. He didn’t care that they’d shot him multiple times and left him for dead. He still thought he’d failed her. And Jacob.

“Didn’t the crash come out of nowhere?” Mila asks.

“It did. One minute, he and I were talking, and the next, I’m flying across the back seat and slamming into the door. It happened in a split second. There was nothing he could have done to prevent it.”

“Still,” I say, “he feels like he bears the responsibility.”

A sudden ruckus behind us draws my attention.

“Let me in,” a strange, older woman slurs. “I have a right to be here.”

She’s dressed in a skin-tight black dress that reveals more than it hides and wrestles with a couple soldiers at the door. More and more people turn in her direction. Even from twenty feet away, the smeared eye makeup and lipstick are obvious. She manages to stumble past on too-high heels and casually pulls her purse strap farther up on her shoulder.

“Mother?”

I swivel my head toward Giovanni, who’s staring at the woman in horror. His gaze darts around and a flush crawls up his neck. Finally, his feet unstick and he hurries over to where she stands, unsteadily, and grabs her arm. He tries dragging her toward the exit, but she jerks out of his grip.

“No. Don’t touch me,” she barks out.

“What are you doing here?” he whispers harshly, his gaze still bouncing around as all the focus in the room is entirely on them.

I’ve never seen Gio this disconcerted before. Before I can stop myself, I move the short distance between us until I’m standing beside him.

“Hello, I’m Francesca,” I introduce myself, sticking out a trembling hand. “You’re Giovanni’s mother?”

She looks me up and down, ignoring my gesture, and her smile turns almost snakelike. “So,” she coos. “You’re Sal’s niece. The one Giovanni has been panting after all this time?”

Panting after me? He has?

The silence grows. Somehow, he grows more tense.

“Excuse me, but can someone tell me what the fuck is going on?” Jacob’s deep voice booms from next to me.

My head whips in his direction. He’s towering over the three of us, his expression tight and fierce.

“Ahhh,” Giovanni’s mother draws out. “The prodigal son. I’m sure your return made Salvatore happy.”

I glance at Gio, who’s remained deathly quiet. His face has gone pale. Some instinct makes me slide my hand through his. It’s the first time I’ve willingly touched him. He jerks, and his hand is clammy. He still doesn’t take his eyes off his mother.

“Madam, I’m not sure this is the appropriate time for you to be here,” Jacob scolds.

She laughs, but it lacks humor. “Actually, I think this is the perfect time. The bastard is dead, and so is his lackey, Paulie, and there is nothing more either of them can do to me.”

My cousin stands more rigid than I thought possible. His eyes burn with anger. Jacob raises an arm and gestures with his fingers. Two men approach the woman and none-too-gently begin to drag her out of the sanctuary.

“You can’t do this to me,” she shrieks in outrage, her face a mask of fury.

My cousin raises a haughty brow. “I assure you, I can do anything I want.”

Gio’s mother continues fighting the men, her purse dangling off the crook of her elbow, and they almost make it to the door before she screeches again. “You can’t treat your brother’s mother this way.”

Like a vacuum, all the air is sucked out of the room. Everyone within hearing range freezes.

“What did you say?” Jacob gapes.

The men’s grip on her goes as slack as their jaws. She manages to right herself, and her expression shifts. It’s like she’s trying to appear innocent. “You mean your dear father has been keeping secrets from you? Imagine that.” She chuckles.

“Enough.” He slashes his hand through the air. Then he turns to Gio and jabs his finger in his direction. “Come with me.”

Jacob strides away, Pierce right behind him. “Bring her with you,” he calls over his shoulder.

The two men pull the woman along, and Giovanni’s hand slips from mine. He stands there a moment longer, his eyes trailing after them, until, finally, without even glancing in my direction, he follows.

What the heck just happened?