The Vendetti Coward: Salvatore Vendetti (The Vendetti Famiglia Book 4) Read online

I shrug. “Probably a bit of everything thrown in, but it’s what pushed me over. It wasn’t like the past when I’d have the longing to escape my mind and just decide to say fuck it, then do what I wanted. This time around, I was wrapped up in my thoughts. Everything was so fuzzy inside and furious all at the same time. I was snorting the pills before I registered what I was doing, that I’d been clean and in the middle of relapsing. In my mind, I was pissed off for allowing myself to slip, and just plummeted back to my usual coping method of trying to erase everything. It went downhill from there. I spiraled into a binge.”

  “And you paid severely for it. I can’t remember seeing you that sick in the past, no matter what you were on. The past two weeks since your relapse have been brutal on you.”

  “I’ve never been clean for that long of a stretch—nearly eight months. The relapse detox this time around was brutal. It happened initially when I went to the rehab facility, but for a shorter time frame, and not as strongly.”

  “Can you remember all of the symptoms you had this time around? I have a good idea of them, but I’m wondering if there’s more that I don’t know of. Luca asked me when he called to check in on you.”

  I nod, releasing a deep exhale. “The first week was the roughest by far. I had muscle aches, cramps, sweating, couldn’t sleep, wasn’t hungry, runny nose, nausea, and diarrhea. I felt so weak, I didn’t want to move. It hurt badly. I’m sure he knows all of those though.”

  “And the second week?”

  “Difficulty sleeping and eating, aches, and more cramps.”

  “Christ, Salvatore,” he mutters, visibly shaken by hearing it come straight from me. “And what about now?”

  I clear my throat, embarrassed to admit what I’m feeling. I’m supposed to be strong at all times. Mafioso. “Some, uh, mental symptoms. Anxiety, anger, guilt, and a bit of depression. I’m pissed at myself for losing control and also for shedding some of the weight I’ve been working hard to put on during my sobriety.”

  His hand falls to my shoulder, squeezing. “It’s a long road ahead of you, but I want you to know we’re here for you. All of us.”

  “Grazie.”

  He’ll never know my struggle, but it’s not his, it’s mine. I’m responsible for putting myself in my own personal version of hell. Even now, my father’s off in the Hamptons living the retired life, and yet I still find myself looking to escape. The root of my addiction stemmed from Romano’s physical and mental abuse, and the responsibility I grew up with, being expected to endure as a young adult in the Empire. With a dead mother for most of my life, and my famiglia at the head of the Italian mafia, it should be a given that I’d end up fucked-up somehow.

  All of us have our own version of demons. Just look at my brothers. Matteo is the controlled type of psychopath. Enemies never know what they’ll get with him, only that he’ll collect on his debts. It’s the Vendetti way. He’s a power freak too. He’s been that way for as long as I can remember.

  Valentino is a prime example of a mafioso upbringing. He has a temper and loves to stir up trouble when it doesn’t concern him. He thrives in chaos and has no problem executing orders from the Capo. It’s why he makes such a good underboss for the Empire; he’s not one to question things. Only do what the mafia expects of him.

  Let’s not forget Dante. He’s our misunderstood fratello, the one who idolized Matteo to an unhealthy level. He tried so hard to be just like Matteo growing up that I think he lost himself in the process. He even managed to fall in love with the Capo’s moglie. Now, Four is living in Chicago and full of rage. None of us know if he’ll ever return home at this point.

  Luciano and Santino—I put them together, since they have a penchant for sharing. They’ve been that way for as long as I can remember, I can recall them losing their virginity together with the same girl. Romano was concerned they were into each other in some sick way, but that’s not the case. They’re close to the point they should’ve been twins, and I’ve always been jealous of their relationship. They’re not the youngest, though you wouldn’t know that with how Santino behaves at times. They appear to be the most normal out of all of us, looking in from the outside, but that’s not the case. They have to be around each other all the time or else they don’t function well, and while they may seem sweet to women, our fratelli are stone-cold killers. The Vendetti soldati.

  Lastly is Cristiano. He’s a made man like the rest of us, but unlike us, he’s done everything he can to stay in the Almighty’s good graces. We’ve teased him relentlessly as he was always going to church, saying his prayers, and asking for forgiveness. We thought he’d be the downfall of the Vendetti Empire in the end—the weak fratello. That all changed when Arianna came back into the picture. Valentino and Sofia pushed him too far and Cris snapped. He killed for Arianna without a second thought and he never begged for forgiveness. He’s always been a little too eager to fill the shoes of a mafioso, and we all doubted him. He’s different now. Hell if anyone were to take Matteo’s place, I have a feeling Cristiano would be a top pick. He’d have to kill Tino first though. We all know the underboss will never allow anyone to take his power from him.

  As if this weren’t enough, there’s a laundry list of street thugs gunning for our famiglia. We keep killing people to survive; it never ends. The police do everything they can to lock us away, but luckily they always fail. Yet the universe continues stacking the chips. Our traditions are twisted, our marriages arranged to virgins, and then there’s the curse. If we ever fall in love, there’s always another to step in and shake things up. We’re our own worst enemy when it comes to women. It’s been that way for decades.

  Which leads me to why it’s imperative I keep my distance from Annabella. She’s too easy to talk to, to stare at, to touch…I’m already weak from my constant fight with sobriety that she’d suck me right in. I don’t stand a chance keeping my guard up around her, so I must stay away. It’s the only way I won’t ruin the both of us.

  “How are you feeling?” Valentino asks, catching me off guard. He’s been more assholish than usual since I came back from rehab and I still don’t understand why.

  “Fine.” I nod, unwilling to go into it any further with him. Thankfully, I don’t have to as Matteo comes strolling in at the perfect time.

  “Capo,” Cris greets, followed by Valentino and lastly, me.

  “We’ve got an issue,” he begins, sitting at the table. It’s breakfast and Violet isn’t down here with him. I hope she’s feeling okay. We quietly sit back, as he continues. “The Irish clapped back and hit one of our buildings. We need that under control immediately. I won’t tolerate insubordination, and those small gangs need a reminder as to who runs this fucking state. The other thing, well, I’ve heard from Dante.”

  Valentino speaks up. “Does he need more reinforcements?”

  “Actually, it appears we’ve gained some without seeking any. Joker’s crew from Chicago wants to lend a hand.”

  Cristiano snorts and shakes his head. “They’ve heard we’re in talks with the MC down south and they’re afraid we’re coming for them.”

  Matteo drinks from his cup of coffee and shrugs. “That may or may not be the case. Dante didn’t mention anything about that. He did say that Joker wants revenge against his uncle, Sammi Morelli, and his crew has offered to step in and help if he can have it.”

  I ask, “Will you take Chicago after he claims his retribution?”

  “He’s also asking for some sort of an agreement. They don’t want to go to war with our famiglia.”

  Now it’s Valentino scoffing and grumbling, “Of course they don’t want war! We’ll kill them all and take the city without breaking a sweat.”

  “Hm.” Matteo sits back in his seat, staring down at the table.

  “What do you want to do? What do you think is smart right now?” I question him.

  He lifts his gaze, pinning me with it. He says, “I don’t want war right now either. With the Irish nipping at our heels, it doesn’t feel
like the right time to move on Chicago. We’re already at the table, and if Joker holds true to his word and the suggested plan, we’ll be one of two in control of that city regardless.”

  Cristiano’s mouth pops open in surprise. “They’re getting rid of the table of the Five Famiglias?”

  “Si. It’ll go from five to two. The Vendettis and the Morellis.”

  Valentino whistles lowly.

  “Almost sounds too easy. You know nothing comes free in this life, Matty,” I remind him.

  His head tilts in acknowledgement. “Sal, tell me, what would you have me do?”

  Valentino glowers at me. He is, after all, the underboss. He sits in my place next to Matteo.

  Releasing a tense breath, I rationalize, “It sounds to me like you already know what to do. You don’t want war. It’s important the Vendettis have power there. You offer him the revenge he seeks and keep the spot at the table. Circle around to it after you’ve handled the Irish and you’re ready for the next battle.”

  His lips turn up, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he grins. “It’s good to have your mind clear, Salvatore and I agree. Less work for Dante, as well as the rest of us, although I have a suspicion he’s enjoying the mess he’s created. I’m not sure how much longer he can keep out of the police’s sight if dead hookers continue to turn up littered through Chicago. Cristiano, find me a local cop we can flip. I want to know everything they’ve got on Dante.”

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  I stand and say to them all, “I’ll be right back.” I need to head to my room and take my meds. As I’m leaving I hear Matteo grow irritated, grumbling to Valentino, “I thought you said you’d handle this Irish bitch? You going fucking soft?”

  It’ll be a cold day in hell when Valentino goes soft, that much I can guarantee.

  Anything I’ve ever done that

  was worthwhile initially scared

  me to death.

  - Betty Bender

  A few weeks pass without much happening around the estate. I should be thankful of that I suppose, although living a life of chaos makes it hard to relax when there isn’t any present. I’ve begun to feel better again, so that’s a plus. I wish I could claim all things in my life were doing better, but that’s not reality.

  The guilt of putting Annabella in the situation I did still tugs at my gut. I haven’t spoken to her much at all. I’ve struggled to keep my distance completely. Aside from her coming around and attempting to check on me, I’ve avoided her at all costs. I can’t handle how terrible I feel when I’m around her, and I’m too much of a coward to apologize over it. I’m attempting to work through the guilt with my counselor. Twice a week, my substance abuse therapist shows up and I spill everything that I’m dealing with—well, minus the mafia aspect of my life. I’ll never be a rat. No matter how drunk or tweaked out I may’ve gotten, that’s never crossed my mind as an option. In this famiglia, you talk about the Empire, you die.

  I walk into Matteo’s office and am greeted with a sight to behold. One I haven’t seen in a long time, but enjoyed thoroughly when we were taking our turns with the queen. Violet’s straddling his lap behind his enormous oak desk, her dress pushed up over her thighs to rest at her waist. Matteo has the V-neck material at her breasts pushed to the sides where he sucks ravenously on her nipple. He groans as she swivels her hips, grinding her crotch against his cock.

  Her sparkling irises meet mine, beckoning me towards her. She’s always enjoyed our touch, no matter which of our brothers she had under her spell. My gaze flicks back towards her exposed breasts, taking in the naked flesh. Her other nipple leaks fluid, the breast milk dripping to run underneath the full globe. I don’t think she’s stopped lactating since their first neonata, much to Matteo’s delight.

  The sight has me instantly growing hard. She’s so damn beautiful. Matteo is a lucky man. I swallow, my throat growing parched as my muscles clench with desire.

  “Closer, Salvatore,” she orders.

  I obey, already becoming her prey twisted in her sticky web, regardless of consequences. I stop next to her, close enough I can smell the expensive perfume tinging the air amongst her pheromones. My hand moves her dark, silky locks over her shoulder so I can take in more of her olive flesh. I want to taste it. I can’t remember the last time I took the time to admire a woman’s skin with my tongue. Annabella’s neck instantly comes to mind, along with the intense sensation of wanting to lick and suck wherever she’d allow my touch.

  “Perfecto,” I murmur the compliment, pleased with the smile I receive from her in return.

  Her stomach is beginning to round, though the change is small and new. The baby is recent in my mind, but obviously she’s far enough in her pregnancy to be showing. It’s by far the sexiest part on a woman—her pregnant belly. I don’t know what it is about seeing a woman heavy with a Vendetti heir that drives us all so crazy with lust. Perhaps it’s Romano’s fault from drilling it into us since we were a mere twelve that continuing the Vendetti bloodline is our number-one priority aside from the Empire. Or maybe it’s the tradition we’ve all been cursed by, the knowledge always kept at the back of our minds.

  “Touch me, Sal,” Vi demands, batting her lashes up at me. It’s hard to resist her when she’s like this—a siren.

  I cast a quick glance at Matteo, but he’s too enraptured with his woman and her breast to pay me much mind. My fingers graze her smooth flesh, running along the column of her throat. She misses having two cocks in her at the same time, we can all see it. She holds back because she loves and respects my brother. He’s too possessive to share her regularly, so he only allows it on her birthday. She’s spoiled by him, after all, and he loves her far too much to not allow her to have what she wants occasionally.

  Bending my finger, I use my knuckle to continue my exploration. I touch over her striking collar bones, tracing the path to her shoulders then lower. Unable to help myself, I cup the full, rounded breast that’s free, squeezing until the liquid spills over again and again. It’s a sight to behold. “Cazzo,” I cuss on a tormented whisper as I wet the tip of my finger. I bring it to her mouth, rubbing the liquid over her plump lips. They part, as a low, needy moan escapes.

  Matteo pulls back, his intense stare moving to her mouth. His cheeks are flushed, his irises filled with love and lust for his woman. I pull my hands away, placing a chaste kiss to the top of her head. “We’ll talk later, Matty. Enjoy your moglie.” I caress Violet’s cheek tenderly and say, “You grow more magnificent each day. I’m honored you’re our queen.”

  Her eyes turn glossy as she nods and says, “Love you, Sal.”

  I toss her a wink and leave them to it. I don’t make it out of the room before he’s sunk her down over his length and she’s moaning loudly with relief. He muffles her by taking her lips in a blistering kiss, leaving me hopeful that one day I’ll have something half as good as they do with each other.

  My mind is still on Matteo and Violet when I run smack into someone. Or I should say she runs into me. Glancing to the floor, I’m met with Annabella sprawled out at my feet. Her on the floor below me instantly has new images bombarding my mind. In my thoughts, she’s no longer wearing any clothes—neither of us are—and she’s got her dainty hands wrapped firmly around my cock. With a grunt, I adjust myself and put my hand in my pocket. It does nothing to hide my hard-on in my trousers, however, so I remove it and eventually reach to help Annabella back to her feet.

  “You ran into me?” I growl, full of pent-up desire. Although it’s not necessarily a question, since it obviously happened. Regardless, it comes out as one anyhow. “Where was your head?” I ask with accusation lacing my tone.

  “Me?” she returns, her features morphing into stunned outrage. “I didn’t run into you. You plowed into me!”

  “Not hardly,” I rebuke with a careless wave of my hand. It was obviously the wrong move as her cheeks flair with irritation. The delightful flush peppering her skin shouldn’t provoke me so severely,
yet it does.

  “When did you becomes such a jerk?”

  “Excuse me?” My own temper ignites, and trust me, it’s another trait that runs full force in our famiglia. It’s gotten people killed in the past, not that I’d ever want to harm her in any way. It’s quite the opposite, if I’m being honest with myself.

  “You heard me,” she sasses. “I’ve overheard plenty of rumors from people claiming you’re a terrible mess, but I wrote them off as hearsay. I wanted to give you a chance myself. You weren’t exactly nice when I arrived, but you definitely weren’t as disrespectful as you’ve been since you took me to that club.”

  “I haven’t been around you since then to be disrespectful,” I defend, ready to escape this conversation completely. The woman has nerve to come at me like she is. I’m her boss, and she needs to remember as much.

  “Exactly! You’ve been avoiding me, and I’ve had enough. The worst of all is you’ve been ignoring your daughter. Forget me and you and whatever that was the night we went out and think of Rosa.”

  “I haven’t ignored her.”

  “You’re lying to me and yourself if you truly believe that.”

  “How dare you. You have no right.”

  “No right?” Her voice grows shrill and she gapes at me for a beat. “I’m with her day and night, I have every right to call you out on your shit. You’re acting like a little boy throwing a tantrum. Grow up and take care of your daughter. You’re no better than everyone else. Stop expecting to be coddled. You’re a father, damn it. Now act like one!”

  Her words strike a chord. They cut and maim. My insides twist with what she’s just said right to my face. I haven’t been being a good father. I’ve been too wrapped up in my own shit, attempting to stay sober again to pull my selfish head out of my ass. I was ignoring Annabella and avoiding her. I’ve been a coward because I haven’t wanted to face her after what I’ve done. The one person whose given her all for my daughter and essentially me, and I’ve been too petty, stuck in my mind to just face her to see my daughter. It’s been weeks with me doing the bare minimum, and yet I’ve let each day slip away, more guilt swimming in my system as I fail my family yet again.