16. Evelyn

Swaths of dark red blanket my vision as I open my eyes with a well-rested yawn and stretch my body. It feels like I slept under a weighted blanket when I swing my feet over the edge of the bed. The first step on the platform is wide and not as warm as the floor itself, but it reminds me of where I am.

Alessandro let me fall asleep in the playroom after bringing me to several orgasms. A cum coma has me ready to face the day. I"m not sure where Lorenzo is, but I put the T-shirt back on and take the elevator straight up to my room. My phone"s still on the nightstand, but I can see there are a few missed calls.

Missed calls before nine in the morning are never a good sign. The first voicemail plays from about forty-five minutes ago.

Ev, can you come today? I just need to see a friendly face.

The next message that plays is from my mother.

Evelyn, where are you? Shana says she needs to see you. You know what your sister is going through. You've got it made living it up in the lap of luxury, but your sister is in that dreadful place. The least you can do is pick up the phone for her. Don't be the spoiled brat. Oh, and come for dinner tonight since yesterday got shot to shit, literally. Love you.

A groan and a plume of exhaustion push out of my nose as I push the next message:

Mio dolce. Rest, sleep, relax, take as much time as you need. If you have to go anywhere, take Lorenzo or Jenkins with you. I'm meeting a client and then have to go speak to Pop. I'll see you tonight.

The sound of his voice is soothing, far more than I ever realized. I can feel the warmth and strength of his embrace. I don't want to lose Alessandro. Going back to being Don Matteo Rossi's spoiled daughter is out of the question in my mind.

Keeping this marriage intact is added to my list of things to do as I get ready for the day. By the time I'm dressed, Jenkins is outside waiting beside the car for me. I don't see Lorenzo anywhere, but I guess he has other duties than babysitting me all day.

Jenkins is quiet with his black eye prominent and his attitude about it blatantly obvious.

"How are you feeling?" I ask him.

"Like yesterday shouldn't have happened. I should have never took you to see Anita, and you should have never been at that bastard's house."

"Jenkins, you have to follow orders. Being vocal with Dad isn't the same as raising concerns at a job you can't stand."

"He used to listen to me more, but he's so excited about this merger between his organization and Oscar that he's willing to put too many people in danger. I'm sorry, Evelyn. I shouldn't talk to you about this. How are you holding up? Is the kid De Luca treating you well?" he asks, looking to me in the rearview mirror.

Fantasies and replays of our times together put a smile on my face, letting the heat of my lust for my husband course through my body. "He treats me like a queen."

"For now," Jenkins says under his breath. I don't know what that means, but I don't want to dive into it. Instead, I let the traffic building up along the West Side Highway steal my attention. There are so many lives happening all at the same time. The idea is daunting.

It takes about a half hour to get to Top Gott from Midtown, and I'm happy to get out of the car once Jenkins parks in the facility's lot. The barbed wire enforces feelings of claustrophobia as I walk through the gates. Processing and searching takes another fifteen minutes before I'm shown into the same room as last week.

Another ten or fifteen minutes pass before Shana finally limps into the visitor's room. My eyes widen as the scratches on her face and a black eye are the first things I see.

"What the fuck?" I hiss as she sits down. There's pain in every movement she makes, grimacing as she struggles to sit up straight at the table.

"Three girls cornered me in the laundry room and worked me over pretty good. Said this was from La Familia."

"From or for?" I ask her for clarity.

"Honestly, it could be either or. All I know is that they got to me after whoever shot at you guys yesterday."

"How did you find out about that?"

She closes her eyes, shielding her tears. "I spoke to the kids last night. They were talking about it like it was some fucking video game. Dad said he had to get them out of there."

"Yeah, Ma has me going by the house later since yesterday's Sunday dinner was a complete disaster. When, uh, Less came home, he looked like he took care of it and he spoke to the other host. It wasn't them, so whatever happened in here to you, it wasn't from them."

"At this point, anything is possible. I also got a letter from Peter and his lawyer. He thinks he's going to get custody of the kids, Evil." She shakes her head, and I notice she's no longer wearing the gold wedding band around her finger.

"I'm sorry, Shay."

"I wanted you to come in so I could tell you to your face to keep that asshole away from my kids. Don't let him get away with this. I'm sorry I didn't listen last week." She sniffles and wipes her tears on the sleeve of her jumpsuit.

"It's fine. Do you need anything? Money on your books? I can send you a care package or something."

"The kids are already putting something together with Ma. She has the list of shit that's allowed in here. Certain stuff will get confiscated, so don't overthink it, Evil. Anita already ran into issues trying to send me a spiral notebook. The spring or whatever can be used as a weapon. They just throw the stuff out, I think. Such a fucking waste."

"Do you need me to do anything? I can have my husband talk to your husband?"

She smiles. "The same way Dad used to talk to your boyfriends?"

"Less has a way of talking that really sticks with you. No guy can walk away with his feelings or skin intact." It's a joke that gets me a mild kick under the table. "Ow, you troll, I was just trying to make you laugh."

"Don't." She giggles. "It hurts when I laugh. I think they broke a rib."

"Fuck, what are they doing now to keep you safe? Dad says he was going to pull some strings?"

She shrugs. "I don't know about Dad, but my lawyer said she got a call from some law firm saying they work with a few prison reform charities, and due to my attack, I'm a candidate for some program. I don't know. I kind of tune her out since she's done a shit job of getting me out of here."

"You want to get out, like I mean really get out?" I ask her.

"I'm not snitching on my husband, Ev. He"s a piece of shit, but I think this stuff with the kids is him trying to be a good father. He doesn't want them around the life, and I can't blame him. I'm just not ready to throw that towel in. If anyone gets them away from this, it's going to be me."

"Okay, Shay. Whenever you're ready to get out of here, you know what you have to do. They want to know where his skeletons are buried."

"Doing that puts Dad in a bad position, too. It's not… Peter's a lawyer. There's no attorney client privilege. I don't think he'll hold his own in a place like this, and this is the women's facility. I can't even think about the torture?—"

"Stop, don't stress about him."

"How can I not, Ev?" She sniffs back tears. "I've been looking after him for over fifteen years. He's not supposed to act like this. We're supposed to be stronger than this."

"Martin, time's up!" the guard calls from the doorway.

"Thanks for coming, Evelyn. You have no idea how much I needed to see a face I can trust. I love you."

"I love you too, Shana."

The drag of her feet, dullness of her hair, and limp in her gait make me ache to get her out of here. Alessandro's a lawyer. I know he said he's working on it, but I should ask him for an update.

Outside, I give Jenkins the rundown of what Shana went through. The update agitates him even more than when he picked me up. Being helpless isn't a familiar feeling for him. I know he hates not being able to do anything for us.

The best way to get out of this funk is to cook. So, we take the drive through the boroughs, stopping at some of my favorite shops to get primo cuts of meat to cook for dinner. After letting Alessandro know I'll be having dinner in Brooklyn, I find myself at my parents' house alone.

Ma's gone to take the kids to their afterschool activities, and Dad, well, he's somewhere in the city. I lose myself in the dinner prep, sending out hopes and prayers that Shana is safe until we can get her home.

Two rib-eye steaks for Dad and me, and a pesto sausage lasagna for everyone else. The flurry of activity that happens when Courtney and Roman get home is intense, far more enthusiasm than I remember.

"Zia Evie! Yes!" Roman tucks his elbow into his ribs in triumph. "I'm so happy you're home and cooking. Nan's been making soggy chicken Parm all week."

"I'll show you soggy," Ma shouts from the doorway. "I slave over a hot stove and this is the thanks I get. You're on bathroom duty for the rest of the week."

Roman groans and stomps out of the kitchen. Unfortunately for him, my father steps in to see the reaction and is less than happy.

Dad grips him by the shoulders. "Hey, is that how you talk to your Zia and Nan? Is that how you behave for the women who take care of you?"

"No, Sir." Roman sulks and turns to face us. "I'm sorry. I'll go clean up the bathroom."

"Good boy. Now, what's that I smell?"

"I have a rib-eye ready to go in the pan for you, Dad. Ma, you can have the other one if you want. I put a pesto and sausage lasagna in the oven. Should be ready in about twenty minutes."

"You have the steak," Ma yells from the living room. "I'm sure you like eating fancier now, anyway."

My head tips back with eyes to the ceiling. Dad comes in with a warm smile. "Ignore her, Evie. She's just jealous she had to marry a guy like me."

"You'd be surprised that Alessandro is a lot like you."

"Don't get attached, Evelyn," Dad warns solemnly. "This treaty, this marriage. It's not permanent. It's only until we get our territory back in order, and then it's back to business."

I don't want to think about it. A week ago, I wouldn't even question it as I just do as I'm told. Now, being out of this house and living with Alessandro, it makes me want to experience the world on my own for a bit. Even though I have no intention of letting Alessandro go, I want a life that belongs to me, where no one else is making decisions for me.

As we sit down to dinner, it's all I can think about. What comes next for me? The kids devour every bite of their food and ask for more. It warms my heart knowing that cooking is something I'm great at. They want more of me. I stand out as the best in the family at something, and it has nothing to do with my father's criminal enterprise.

I'm so lost in my thoughts that I spot the look of terror in my father's eyes too late. Turning to look over my shoulder, Jenkins is being led into the kitchen, hands in the air. The man standing behind him is a face I didn't think I'd ever see again.

Peter Martin is sporting a glowing tan and a well-tailored suit when he pushes Jenkins away from him. His black hair's slicked back and he's wearing a silk shirt like he's returning from a vacation.

"You're off your game, Jinx." Peter laughs. His gaze pans the table and stops at his children. "Is this the way you greet your dad? Get over here, guys, come give me a hug!"

"What's with the pistol, Peter?" Dad asks. I look around the table, and the four most important people in his life are a bullet away from being hurt.

My pulse skyrockets, and I turn to face the macchia di merda I call a brother-in-law.

"Yeah, what the fuck do you want?" The question comes out with more of a snarl than I intended.

Peter smiles, gun in his left hand and the kids gathered under his right arm. "These two are it. I'm here to get my kids, and none of you goombahs are going to do shit about it."