Beast I Can’t Tame by L.K. Shaw

Chapter 2

Giovanni

Of course,Beatrice Saccone would show up here and embarrass me like this. She’s been an embarrassment my entire life. I trail behind my mother and her escorts. She’s managed to walk on her own. Although walking is a relative term. More like stumbling along, no doubt already either high or drunk or both. It’s not even three in the afternoon. That’s never stopped her.

“Your brother’s mother.”

What the fuck did she mean by that? Jacob leads us into a back office. He positions himself behind the desk. The two men deposit my mother in the chair, and after a wave of his hand, they leave. Pierce takes a stance against the wall and stares coldly at her.

“Close the door, Gio,” he commands.

I shut it and stand next to the desk, facing the woman who gave birth to me. She’s sitting there, seeming to be not the least bit concerned with anything. Not even Pierce.

“Now, explain to me who the fuck you are and what you meant out there,” Jacob demands, leaning on his palms on the desktop.

“I told you,” she says with a hint of impatience. “Giovanni’s your brother. Well, half brother, I guess.”

The bottom of my stomach drops. She can’t be serious. His eyes flash to me and back to her. He doesn’t speak for several minutes. Is he doing the math in his head like I am?

He narrows his eyes at her. “If what you say is true, and I have my doubts, then that would mean Sal had an affair while he was married to my mother.”

“You make it sound so scandalous.” Her voice dips at the end. “Sal had an itch. I scratched it.”

I glance in Jacob’s direction. His jaw clenches and, as though sensing my gaze, he turns to me. “Do you know anything about this?”

I blink at the tone he’s never used on me before. It’s filled with a suppressed rage.

“What? No.” I shake my head. “I have no idea what she’s talking about. I swear.”

His eyes bore into mine. I withhold my flinch. Barely. He turns back to my mother. “So, let’s say you’re telling the truth, why are you just now coming forward with this? Giovanni is, what, nearly thirty?”

Finally, she appears halfway sober. “Because Sal threatened to kill me if I ever told anyone. But now he’s dead.”

Jacob narrows his eyes. “What makes you think I won’t kill you?”

“Half of those people out there heard me say Giovanni is your brother,” she points out. “They’ll wonder why I suddenly turn up dead.”

He laughs. “Madam, those people don’t even know who you are and couldn’t care less if I slit your throat in front of them.”

For maybe the first time, my mother’s expression shifts to fear. Then, just as quickly, to pleading. “I’m only trying to do right by my son. He deserves to know the truth.”

Beatrice Saccone has never tried to do right by me. I can’t stay quiet any longer. “What are you trying to get out of this?” Because there is going to be something.

My mother’s gaze flicks to mine, and hurt flashes across her face. She places a hand on her chest as though wounded. Too bad, it’s merely a ploy. I know you better than you think, Mother.

“How could you think I want anything? What a hurtful thing to say to your mother, Giovanni,” she whines.

This time I can’t hold back my disbelief. “Because you always want something. More alcohol. More drugs. More of somebody taking care of you. Is it money? Is that what you think this little game of yours will get you?”

“Of course not,” she sniffs.

I turn back to Jacob. Once again, my mother has managed to ruin my life. “I apologize, Mr. Ricci. I’ll make sure neither of us disturb you again.”

“For Christ’s sake, Gio, sit down,” he demands and looks over at Pierce. “Call Dr. Marino. Tell him we need a DNA test done, now.”

His second in command nods, sends my mother another glare, and steps out into the hallway. Jacob’s gaze meets my confused one, and he gestures abruptly to a chair. “Sit. Down.”

I drop into it. “You don’t really believe her, do you?”

“Why wouldn’t he believe me?” my mother asks with faux affront.

“I don’t know,” my voice drips with sarcasm. “Maybe because you’re a pathological liar.”

“I’m not taking anyone’s word about anything until someone can offer me proof,” Jacob interrupts before she can say anything. “Which means we’ll take a test. I want answers just as much as you do.”

Pierce steps into the room. “Marino’s on his way. He said it’s going to take time to get the results back. But he’ll collect the samples and get them to a lab for processing.”

“How long?” Jacob growls.

“Could be weeks.”

“Pay to expedite it, then,” my boss snaps. His heated glare returns to my mother. “Why don’t you tell me about this itch of my father’s you scratched. How did you two meet? When did this happen? How long did it last?”

She leans back in her chair as though she’s settling in for a long story. “I was a dancer. Sal was a frequent visitor to the club back then. Held a lot of meetings. Big tipper. I was one of his regulars, if you know what I mean.” My mother winks.“A few times he paid for a, let’s just say…special dance.”

“And it was during one of these dances that you managed to get pregnant?” Jacob’s sarcasm is clear.

My mother shrugs. “Accidents happen.”

He stares her down. “Yes, they do. You should remember that.”

Once again, her confidence seems to leave her, and she straightens. “No disrespect intended. I’m just telling you what happened.”

“How did he react to the news that you were pregnant?” Jacob asks.

My mother chuckles. “He was pissed. Then he gave me a bunch of money and told me if I ever told anyone, he’d kill me.”

“So, you’ve held onto this secret for thirty years.”

“Yes. But it’s not fair to my baby”—she throws me a pitiful glance—“that he doesn’t know that he has a brother.”

Christ. This has to be her best performance yet. Jacob glances at Pierce.

“Watch her,” he instructs before circling the desk and stopping at my side. I tilt my head and stare up at him. “Outside,” he says.

He strides toward the door, and I shoot a final hateful glance at my mother, before I follow him into the hallway.

The second I close the door behind me, he rounds on me. “Tell me about your mother.”

I sigh. I despise talking about her. I’ve done everything I could to separate myself from her over the years. Jacob doesn’t care about any of that, though, I’m sure. “I haven’t seen her for a few years,” I finally admit. “As you can see, she’s not really maternal. Well, not unless it suits her. She’s an addict. An alcoholic. Just depends on the day. Fucks men for money, but refuses to acknowledge that makes her a prostitute. As you heard, she merely ‘scratches itches’.”

Jacob studies me, his expression colder than he’s ever directed to me before. “So, it was purely coincidence that you started working for my father?” His tone suggests he doesn’t believe it.

“Yes, sir. One of my buddies used to run errands for the family. He’s the one who got me the meeting with Mr. Bianchi. I only met your father when I was hired to be his driver a year ago. Before that, I’d seen him in passing. Of course I knew he was the boss. But that’s all.”

I force myself to stand still under his steely gaze. It bounces across my face as though he’s memorizing my features. Or comparing them to his father’s. Maybe even his own.

“For what it’s worth, I think this is a game she’s playing. I’m just not sure how far she’ll try and take it. Regardless, whatever punishment you deem fit—for both of us—I’ll accept it. I’ve already let you down once by allowing the Russians to take Brenna,”—I clear my throat—“I mean, Mrs. Ricci.”

Jacob doesn’t speak for several minutes. My spine remains rigid, as does my jaw. Francesca’s face flashes behind my eyes. Was it only a week ago I vowed to make her mine? I guess it’s best that I haven’t made my intentions known, yet. Especially considering this man before me has every right to put me six feet under. And just might.

“Pierce trusts you. I know that’s because of his sister. I’ve extended you the same courtesy, because I trust him. If I discover that you’ve played any part in this, whether that woman’s allegations are true or not”—his voice hardens—“I will personally end you.”

Without waiting for a response, he storms away, leaving me standing there bearing the considerable weight of his threat.