Ruthless Daddy by Bianca Cole
Gia
“Happy twenty-first birthday,” Siena says, clinking her glass against mine.
It may be my birthday, but I can’t help feeling down because my other best friend isn’t here. Aida left Sicily about ten months ago now, and I rarely hear from her at all.
Siena waves a hand in front of my face. “Why does this seem more like a funeral than a birthday celebration?”
I sigh heavily. “Sorry, I just can’t believe Aida isn’t here.”
Siena smiles sadly. “I know, nothing is the same without her.” Her brow furrows. “Has Aida not got in touch?”
I shake my head. “No, it’s the first time I haven’t seen her on my birthday.” I sigh heavily. “I reckon she’s too caught up in her new life to remember us.”
“That’s not true. Aida has a lot going on with the war her husband is fighting.” Siena digs her phone out of her pocket. “Why don’t we try to call her?”
“We can do. It will be late morning in Boston.” I shrug. “She probably won’t pick up.”
Siena finds Aida’s number and attempts to video call her. It rings for a while before cutting out.
I sigh heavily. “It’s as if Aida’s forgotten about us entirely since she moved.” My brow furrows. “I hope she’s okay with that terrible man.”
Siena grabs my hand and squeezes it. “She’s fine. The last time we spoke to her, she said she was happy with him. They’re newlyweds, so it’s not surprising she doesn’t have time for us at the moment.”
I nod and take a drink of my Chardonnay, trying to forget about the hole that Aida has left. Her father is an asshole for sending her away as he did. “I think we ought to go to Aida’s house and give her bastard of a father a good telling off.”
Siena shakes her head. “Don’t be a fool. You know who her father is.”
I’m well aware of who he is. Fabio Alteri practically runs Sicily. He has more power than the government does on this island. “Are you suggesting he might kill us if we went over there?” I ask, downing my third glass of wine.
“I’m suggesting that going over to a mafia don’s house drunk and telling him off for shipping his daughter away is a terrible idea.” Siena grabs the glass out of my hand. “Why don’t you slow down, Gia.” She places a hand on my shoulder.
I shoot her an irritated glare. “Because it’s my birthday,” I say, snatching the glass back.
I love Siena, but we’ve certainly clashed more since Aida left. Aida was the glue that held us together and the buffer whenever Siena and I disagreed. We’re hopeless without her. At least we’ve resisted killing each other for ten months. The worst part of it is that she hasn’t yet bothered to wish me a happy birthday.
Siena places her glass down. “Why don’t we dance?”
I glance at the dance floor, feeling my stomach churn. Since Aida left, everything has been less exciting. Ever since we were kids, it’s always been the three of us. “I’m not sure.”
Siena shakes her head and stands, hooking her arm with mine. “You need to get out of this slump. Come on. We’re going to dance whether you like it or not.” She forces me out of my chair and drags me onto the dancefloor, which is crowded.
It’s as if she planned it as one of my favorite songs of all time plays—get lucky by Daft Punk. It’s impossible not to move to the song as we both sing along, laughing. The moment I’m on that dance floor, the sadness I’d felt that Aida forgot about my birthday fades away.
We dance together, allowing the music to take over the night. The buzz of the wine makes it even more enjoyable as we finally stop and sit back down, laughing. “I needed that.” I smile at my friend. “Thank you for always trying even when I’m an impossible grump.”
“Always.” Siena takes my hand and smiles. “More wine is in order too,” she says, getting the server’s attention.
She comes over. “What can I get for you?”
“Two more glasses of Chardonnay, please,” Siena says, handing her the empty glasses.
I glance at my watch, noticing it’s almost eleven o’clock. I have to be up early to open the shop in the morning. “Maybe we should cancel the wine and call it a night?”
Siena shakes her head. “No way, you only turn twenty-one once.”
I sigh. “I’ve got work in the morning.”
“One more hour, as I wanted to check out a new bar. We will finish our drinks and then head straight there, okay?”
I hold back my remark that one hour always turns to two. It’s not worth trying to argue with Siena. If the shop opens a little later, it won’t be a big deal. Thursday’s are always our slowest days. “Fine.”
The waitress brings us our drinks, and Siena talks about a party a girl from our high school, is throwing tomorrow night.
“Do you think either of us will be up to drinking more alcohol tomorrow?” I ask.
Siena laughs. “You know me. I’m always up to drinking more alcohol.”
I shake my head. “I don’t think I will want to drink, but I’ll come along for the party, anyway.”
“That’s the spirit,” Siena says as she knocks back the rest of her wine in record time. “Now drink up. We need to check out this new bar everyone is talking about.”
I knock back the rest of my drink, feeling queasy the moment I do. When I stand up, I can’t walk straight and grab hold of Siena’s arm. “I hope you can walk straighter than I can right now.”
Siena chuckles. “Not sure, to be honest.”
I shake my head as she leads me out into the streets. We’re about to step into the road when a limousine blares its horn at us. It slows right down, and the guy shouts something out of the window.
My heart skips a beat when I see Fabio Alteri sitting in the back. It instantly brings my attention back to my anger over Aida being taken from us.
“That son of a bitch almost ran as over too.”
Siena’s brow furrowed. “Who are you talking about?”
I point after the car. “Mr. Alteri was in the back of that car.”
“Seriously? We should have stopped it and given him a good telling off.”
I shake my head. “I thought you said it was a bad idea to tell him off about anything.”
“I did when I was more sober and before he almost ran us over with his fancy pants limousine.”
I laugh. “You make no sense. Come on, let’s get to this bar you’ve been going on about. What is it called?”
Siena nods up the street. “Topaz.”
My stomach sinks as I remember reading about it in the local newspaper. “Great, a place ran by the man who almost knocked us down and stole our friend away.”
Siena stares at me with wide eyes. “He owns topaz?” she asks.
I nod. “Let’s be honest. Mr. Alteri owns Sicily.”
Siena sighs. “Unfortunately, you are right.” She hooks her arm with mine again and leads me toward Fabio’s new fancy bar.
I can see why the place got featured in the newspaper. It’s a beautiful bar with the best view of the beach. “Wow, this is a nice place.”
Siena nods. “Yeah, I’m sure the prices are nice, too. One drink, and then we go home, agreed?”
“Agreed,” I reply, walking toward the bar in the center of the courtyard.
A man grabs hold of my hips before I make it there. “Hey, sweet cheeks. Do you want to dance?” he asks.
I yank his hands off me and spin around. “No, I don’t. Keep your hands to yourself, creep,” I say.
He holds his hands up, swaying slightly. “Calm down, bitch.”
I roll my eyes, knowing that nothing good can come from arguing with a sexist piece of shit like him. Siena hadn’t noticed that I got caught up as she searches the crowd for me.
I join her at the bar. “Men can be real idiots,” I say.
Siena raises a brow. “What happened?”
“Some dick back there grabbed my hips and called me sweet cheeks.” I roll my eyes. “A pig, basically.”
Siena wrinkles her nose. “They’re all pigs on this fucking island.” The bartender passes her two glasses of wine. “We need to find nice men in Rome or something.”
“No chance. My life will always be in Sicily.” I take a glass of wine and knock half of it back. There’s one thing I’d never do, and that’s move because of a man.
Siena makes a dismissive noise. “Fuck that, if some rich and handsome man who lived in Rome wanted this.” She gestures to her body. “I’d move there in a heartbeat.” She drinks some of her wine, glancing around the bar. “Unfortunately, we know every man worth knowing on this island, and they are all disappointing.”
I sip the rest of my wine, feeling down about my future. Siena has a way of making prospects on this island seem hopeless, but then she’s never loved it the way Aida and I do. I think it’s because she moved here when she was eight years old.
“I’m empty,” I say, holding up my glass.
Siena downs the rest of hers. “Fair enough. Are you ready to go home?” She asks.
I sway a little, shaking my head. “You go ahead. I’m going to walk along the beach alone for a bit.”
Siena’s eyes narrow. “That’s a bad idea on your own. I’ll walk with you.”
“Don’t be silly. I want some time alone.” I hug Siena, hoping she’ll understand.
She looks at me uncertainly before nodding. “Okay, be careful, and I’ll see you in the morning.”
I nod, turning away from her. “See you tomorrow.”
Siena says nothing else, allowing me to head down the alleyway toward the beach. I know I’ve drunk a few too many glasses of Chardonnay when I almost trip over the cobblestones.
My head is pounding. I pull out my cell phone and sigh when I see my screensaver. A photo of the three of us on the beach last year. I decide to try Aida’s cell phone since Siena couldn’t get through.
The dial tone sounds a few times before cutting to her messaging service. I sigh and stow my phone back in my purse. It’s as though she has forgotten about me entirely. I take off my high heel shoes and step onto the sand, enjoying the softness beneath my bare feet.
The sound of the water gently lapping at the shore is calming. I feel angry and hurt that Aida forgot my birthday, but I know she’s got a lot going on in Boston. She has a new life now that doesn’t include Siena or me.
As I walk along the beach, I realize that I’m heading straight toward Aida’s home. A place I remember from many days spent there as a young child. After Aida’s mother died, she no longer wanted to have us over, always insisting on getting out of the house.
The man who stole her away lives in that same villa. Deep down, a part of me wanted to walk along this beach to get answers. As I get closer, the temptation to walk in there and demand an explanation of why he sold his daughter to some cruel, vindictive bastard on the other side of the Atlantic gets stronger.
Aida trusted him, and he broke that trust. I don’t understand why he sold her to a man known for his cruelty.
The fancy villa sits back from the beach and is dimly lit. Fabio has many guards, but Aida always boasted about the secret entrance only she knew about. The cellar is easily accessible from the beach and leads into the main heart of the villa.
Aida kept it a secret from her father, as it was her only way to escape without Aldo. Although she didn’t take the chance too often, as getting caught would have been disastrous.
I make it to the small hatch on the beach that leads into the home, lifting it. It’s impossible not to be a little nervous as I stare into the dark cavernous hole. The sensible part of me knows this is a bad idea. The drunk, angry part of me wants answers from the man who never struck me as cruel when we were little.
He may be dangerous, but he doted on Aida. It made no sense when he sent her away, telling Aida he can’t bear to be around her because she reminds him of her mother. Fabio Alteri always struck me as a ruthless man, but one that cared about his family above all.
I haven’t spoken to him since I was eleven years old when his enemy murdered his wife. Perhaps her murder changed him in ways I can’t understand. I’ve seen him around Palermo many times, and I always attend the annual ball he holds.
There was no way I’d ever approach him, though, not since Aida stopped asking us over to their home.
I shuffle onto my knees and drop through the hole into a small, compact tunnel. My shoes remain on the beach by the opening since I can’t carry them and go through. It’s the first time I’ve gone into Aida’s home like this. We always met her on the other side, and it’s cramped. Luckily I’m not claustrophobic.
The tunnel is long, but it finally opens up to a vent, which I push open. Carefully, I drop out of the vent hole and into the basement of the Alteri residence. My eyes widen when I see the hundreds of bottles of wine carefully stored in stunning wooden racks made to fit every side of the basement.
Fabio must like his red wine to have this many bottles. I sneak out of the basement and into the main corridor of the home. It’s hard to get my bearings since I was eleven when I last stepped in here.
Fabio’s study was the one place we could never go. It’s the first place I intend to start my search for the don. My heart is pounding so hard I can hear it. There’s no doubt that what I’m doing is certifiably insane. If I was sober, there’s no way I’d sneak into a mobster’s home.
The study is down a small corridor and to the left. We used to sneak in here when Fabio was out because we were told not to. I reach for the door, trying to still my fast heartbeat. When I open the door, I find the study empty.
I exhale a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, stepping into the study. Although Mr. Alteri banned us from coming in here, it was always my favorite room because of the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves on one side. Mr. Alteri has so many books I often wondered how he got the time to read them. Her mother was the one who loved to read.
I walk toward the bookshelf and run my hand along the spines of the number of expensive first edition books.
The click of a gun being cocked behind me turns my legs to jello. “What are you doing here?” A deep voice rumbles behind me, sending goosebumps prickling over every inch of my skin.
I don’t need to turn around to know that Fabio Alteri is standing behind me, aiming a gun at me. That deep, booming voice has haunted my fantasies for as long as I can remember.
Slowly, I turn to face him with my hands up. I swallow hard as I haven’t seen him up close like this for quite a while, let alone spoken to him. He’s wearing a pair of black pants and a white t-shirt that shows off his bulging muscles and tattooed arms.
His hair is a stunning gray that only a man as gorgeous as Fabio can pull off. My heart rate accelerate as our eyes meet. His dark, almost onyx black eyes flash with recognition. My stomach flutters, and I quickly turn into a little girl with a crush again.
“Gia?” he asks, his voice softening as he lowers the gun.
I’m surprised that he recognizes me. I nod in reply. “Hello, Mr. Alteri.”
There’s a tense silence that falls between us as Fabio’s eyes wander slowly down my body. I feel the heat rising to my cheeks at the way he takes in every curve. His eyes pause on my exposed cleavage, making me hotter than fire. He moves his attention back to my eyes, and the look in them knocks the air from my lungs.
Fabio stares at me with a desire that sets my soul on fire. He looks like a hungry wolf, ready to devour his prey.
The problem is, I’m the prey.
