Chapter 08

There’s no such thing as free will.

***Andy***

 

“You know I still have to kick his ass, right?” Tarzan glares at me when I place the box of oatmeal cookies on the table.

My eyes roll. “We both know you won’t. Now if Ford would have said those words…yeah, maybe.”

Jealousy is a weird thing. Flaring up when I don’t need it, taking me by surprise one moment and another it’s long gone because I know Tarzan sees Afon as her brother. Blood or no blood, those two have a solid history.

Tarzan shrugs and takes a cookie. “He’s lucky he’s taken good care of my friend. He did, right? I mean…you look and sound better then when I saw you a week ago.”

“I guess I have you to thank for that,” I sneer.

Shit. See? The jealousy monster is rearing its ugly head at the most inappropriate time when my mind just told me a moment ago they’re like brother and sister.

The damn woman smirks all-knowing. “You’re welcome.”

Karma claps her hands. “Girls, girls, girls. May I remind you? Hello, we’ve got a wedding in two weeks. We need to talk shoes.”

I have to turn my head around to gape at her.

“Oh, and dresses. Let’s not forget the sketch your friend Unique made. So. Flipping. Gorgeous. Here.” Ruby reaches for the bag Karma brought.

“No. Just no. I don’t need a damn dress. It’s all to show how big their dicks are and who gets to piss a circle around a woman that’s been thrown at a man who gets to strengthen a connection from it. Freaking mob business. Nothing else. Shove away those dream dresses you girls are talking about because it’s not happening.” I shove a cookie into my mouth to shut myself up before I start to wail about how awful I would look in a wedding dress.

“Oh, could you put a cork in it and suck it?” Tarzan snaps at me and rips away the bag from Ruby.

Pulling out a bunch of fabric, she throws everything right at me making silk after silk flow over me.

“Would you look at that,” Karma snickers. “You already look like a bride.”

“Shut up.” I chuckle and grab the piece of fabric that landed over my head. It’s cream chiffon and it feels so soft, it’s mesmerizing.

“This one,” I murmur to myself and then look up and hold it out for the girls to see. “I want this one,” I tell them with a firm voice.

“Awesome,” Karma says and adds, “Can I throw the wedding cake samples when we pick out that one? No wait, the shoes. Yeah, that’s more my thing.”

“May I remind you that killing with heels is kinda your trademark? Hell, no. You’re not throwing those at me, I just had a workout,” I remind Karma.

“Would that be the one we walked in on? Or the one your man gave you upstairs when you were,” she air quotes, “freshening up.”

Tarzan and Ruby laugh while my cheeks heat.

“He had her all naked, pinned with his fingers wrapped around her throat when he ordered me to leave his bedroom. He’s always been headstrong but I can’t remember the last time anyone riled him up like that. You do a fine job of getting underneath his skin…or fingernails, whatever.” Tarzan smiles and adds, “Bet the make-up sex is to die for.”

“There is no sex,” I throw out, surprising my friends.

I swallowed the fear of what they might think of me. These are my friends, so they are supposed to have my back. We’ve grown close in a short period of time. All of us with a past that’s tainted with blood and darkness. Feeling something settle inside me, I decide to throw it all out. I might as well get their view of things because it’s all boiling inside. The forced marriage, revenge, Afon, feelings, everything entwined without giving me the space I need to take a breath.

“I can’t. And that’s…I’m Italian mob. I’m brought up with the expectations to be married off. These things are never for love, that’s one percent in a million if you find true love from an arranged marriage. But there’s always the show of the sheets after the wedding, you know…proof that the man has consummated the marriage. Afon said he wanted a traditional Italian one…he can’t have one.” I lower my gaze to my hands, the feeling of the cream chiffon sliding through my fingers, I tell mainly myself. “He will never understand that won’t happen…I don’t have my virginity left to gift my future husband.” My voice is barely a whisper. “A wooden stake took that away…not quite something a girl wants for her sweet sixteen party.” I shake my head to clear it. “Coffee anyone?” I ask, trying to shove away the pity party I was having with myself.

“What the ever-loving-fuck-coffee-anyone, bitch?” Tarzan flashes up and hovers over me. “Names. Now. I’m gonna get me some rope to wrap around their necks and swing them from the church bells. Who the hell used a wooden stake on you?”

My eyes widen. “Shit. I was talking to myself. You weren’t…it doesn’t matter, it’s all taken care of. They’re not alive anymore; Ricca took care of it. Besides, the stake wasn’t the worst of it.” Dammit. Anytime, tongue, feel free to spasm into silence.

Flashing up, I run toward the kitchen and leave my three stunned friends behind. I need to calm down before I spill the darkest of my past, the one I’ve safely tucked away. Dammit. This was probably why Afon gave me the seven days to get back to my old self before I faced anyone else. I’m a mess. An emotional mess without having a handle on anything.

“Just breathe, Andy.” Tarzan’s voice is soothing when she grabs a cup from the top shelf and puts it underneath the coffee machine.

She presses some buttons and waits for the cup to fill. Seconds pass where she doesn’t say a word, not even gives me a glance but instead watches the black, hot liquid flow. Grabbing the cup, she holds it out to me.

I wrap my fingers around it and let the warmth seep through my hands. “Thank you,” I murmur.

“He wouldn’t care, Andy. Seriously. Afon won’t ever let you down. Even if he could never put his dick inside you, he would still have you at his side, dying a happy man with just having you to have shared his life with. That’s the kind of loyal prick he is. The one I love as a brother and the person I’ve had the honor of having around for a huge chunk of my life. A solid one who always had my back no matter what the situation was or how hard life got. I know he’s always loved me back, pushed my limits, gave me a shoulder to cry on, or a smack to the back of my head to knock some sense into me…but what I saw in the bedroom upstairs…how he was with you? That’s the kind of emotion that’s heated with passion. The kind that flames from the heart. You know…I saw the change inside him when you guys first met. Then when you were hurt. He wouldn’t care. Because to him, you’re all he needs, the woman you are today. Besides…you do know there’s a hell of a lot else that can make you orgasm, right? I mean just a mere touch of Ford’s finger heating my skin like,”

“No, no, no.” I shake my head. “There is such a thing as oversharing, Tarzan. You talk about it all the time. The ropes, the rotation of his hips, you tying him up, yeah…you talk a lot, woman. I get what you’re saying…I’ve read romance books talking about love and orgasms, a better life where you’re swept off your feet. I was born into the Italian Mob as a woman, Tarzan. There’s no such thing as free will. Not ever. Not who your family is, not who you’re supposed to love, not who can touch you, or who will be your husband…choice isn’t something that’s freely given. It’s something that can be taken away, held out of reach, a mirage. But never mine…Tarzan…never mine.”

“Fuck,” Tarzan snaps. “Seven days wasn’t enough, huh?” She gives me a sad smile.

Her reaction makes my heart fill. Tarzan might be a little weird but she’s not one to question or hold my hand crying. Yet she’s there for me.

“It cost me years to bounce back to a functional human when they took me the day I turned sixteen. I’m not the same person I was. Right now, I don’t know who the hell I am anymore, or why I should even wonder.” Crap. I hate being dramatic but a turmoil of emotions are ripping through me.

“Talk to him,” Tarzan carefully tells me but with a firm voice she adds, “He’s not like the men you’ve met or had around you in your life, Andy. He’s different. He might be an asshole alpha at times but he’s worked under me as a loyal second in command for so many years…I mean, he gave you the seven days I always gave myself. To sulk and regroup before the two weeks of kicking ass were up to deal with. It’s a process for your mind and body to slide back into the land of the living. I would have these hard moments in life where I’ve felt myself slipping. He learned to help me and with that I know for damn sure he’s the man you need. The only man you’ll ever need. Your brother might have had your back all these years but that only goes so far. Afon? You bet your ass he can give you everything. And unless you’ve got that pussy stitched up, blocking his dick from sliding home…I don’t see why you can’t let him woo you his way.”

The air rushes out of me, black spots closing in. That pussy stitched up.

“Shit. Andy. Fuck. Afon, get your ass in here!” Tarzan’s voice fades to the background.