Brutal Intentions: Chapter 8

My sneakered feet pound along the rain-slicked sidewalk. Far down the street, the neon lights of Peppers are blinking on and off. My work clothes are in a backpack that’s slung over my shoulder.

I’m on my way to dance naked in front of strangers who’ll do their best to cop feels of my ass and tits while spending as little of their money as possible. Meanwhile, I’m still back with Laz and the feral, demonic gleam in his eyes as he said, His touch makes me crazy. His tongue makes me lose my mind. I crave to wrap my legs around my stepdad while he buries his cock deep inside me. Deliver my virginity, my total surrender, to the absolute worst man possible.

I wish I’d done just that instead of sending Laz away.

Or do I?

I don’t know anymore.

When I’m thirty feet from the alleyway that leads behind the bar to the entrance the dancers use, the man who consumes my thoughts steps out from behind a parked car and blocks my way, a bleak expression on his handsome face.

“Get out of the way, Laz,” I say quietly.

“Mia, please—”

“It’s Tasha tonight.”

He gazes at me for a long time, his green eyes searching mine. “Is there alcohol in your bag? Can you even do this sober?”

I swallow around the lump in my throat. There’s a handful of single-serve vodka bottles in my bag that I swiped from the bar at home.

“Let me take care of Tasha. I’m begging you.” Laz actually sinks down to his knees in front of me, right onto the wet sidewalk.

I glance up and down the street. At this rate, we’re going to be recognized, and I’m not wearing my wig yet. “Laz, stop it. Get up.”

“I won’t. Not until you promise to come home with me and let me take care of you.”

Something snaps inside of me. My breaths are coming too fast, anger and frustration making my adrenaline spike. “I’m supposed to rely on you now? Mom could find out about us at any moment, and you could be gone just like . You could die because my uncles will kill you for betraying her. What then? How am I supposed to trust anything you say or do?”

He gets to his feet and pulls me against his chest. “Breathe, Bambi. We’ll figure it out.”

Laz has made my life a thousand times more complicated. I struggle in his arms, trying to pull away, but he’s too strong for me. I slump in his hold, too tired to fight anymore. “This was my secret. My way out. You’ve made everything so much harder.”

“Yeah. I’m told I do that,” he mutters.

I groan and push my face against his chest. Clinging to him, my fellow fuck-up.

“You’re wonderful as Tasha,” Laz whispers. “Beautiful and fearless. The moment I saw you, I couldn’t take my eyes off you. But you know who’s twice as entrancing? Mia, when she’s curled up in an armchair reading a book, so absorbed in what she’s doing that she doesn’t notice she’s wrapping and unwrapping a strand of hair around her finger. I can’t stop staring at that girl. She’s real. She doesn’t have to be anyone else.”

That’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me, but I need Tasha. She’s the one who’s going to pay for my freedom.

“I’ll come home with you tonight,” I tell Laz. “I’ll skip this week. But I won’t make any promises about next week.”

Laz groans in relief and squeezes me tight. “You won’t miss out on a paycheck. I’ll give you what you would have made.”

That’s not what I want from him, but he can’t give me what I truly want, which is to unfuck this mess we’re in together.

“You don’t want me to be a stripper, but you’re happy to turn me into a whore.” I look around and spy his car and, extricating myself from his arms, I head over to it.

“That’s not what I’m trying to do,” he says after he gets in and starts the engine. He’s tense as he drives, the muscles taut as ropes in his tattooed forearms.

The inside of Laz’s car is fogging up because of the cold night air, and I can barely see out my window. All the streetlights and traffic lights are colored blurs. Maybe he’s not trying to force me into having sex with him in exchange for money, but that’s what it will feel like, no matter how much I want him. I’ll be Lazzaro Rosetti’s whore. His dirty little secret.

“What will you do once you’re free?” he asks me.

I stroke my fingers through the condensation, making patterns on the glass. “Just be. There’s nothing else that I want.”

“How about you just be mine,” he says in a low voice.

I reach over and touch the wedding ring on his finger. “You’re spoken for, remember?”

He gazes bitterly at the ring. “I’m going to do something about that one of these days.”

“And then we’ll be two broke fuck-ups instead of one. Don’t kiss your dreams goodbye for me, Laz. I’m already drowning under the weight of my own mistakes. I don’t need yours on my conscience, too.”

Laz drops me at home and drives off into the night. It’s raining once more as I head inside, wondering if I should just go back to Peppers and start my shift anyway. As I think about plastering a smile on my lips and swinging around that pole while people offer me wrinkled dollar bills, my heart shrivels up.

Mom looks up from the sofa with a frown. She’s wearing a white cashmere lounge suit and gold jewelry. “You’re home early. What happened to your shift?”

“They didn’t need me. I’m tired, so I’ll just go to bed.”

I head for the stairs, but Mom stands up and beckons me to the shelving at the back of the room. “While you’re here, I have something to show you.”

She picks up a framed photograph and hands it to me, and I recognize the picture. I recognize when it was taken, anyway. Six months ago, at a professional studio. Mom, Isabel, Rieta, and I all had our pictures taken, some as a group and some individually. Shots of the three of them appeared on the walls in this house and my sisters’ places, but I never saw any photographs of me.

I stare at myself in the picture. I’m smiling, but my eyes are empty, like I suspected that no one would ever look at this picture, so I’d mentally checked out. “Why are you only getting this framed now?”

Mom hesitates. “Well, if you must know, it was something Lazzaro said the other night. He pointed out that Isabel didn’t have any photographs of the four of us, and I forgot that I had these taken.” She smiles at me. “You look beautiful, don’t you? I love that color on you.”

She gives me a squeeze and turns around to place the photograph on the mantelpiece and smiles fondly at it. I cut my eyes away, unable to look at it.

“Mia? What’s wrong?”

I imagine the way her face would fall if she heard me admit to any of that. Maybe I’ve been turning Mom into a villain so that I don’t have to feel guilty about craving Laz, kissing Laz, rubbing my pussy all over Laz.

A wave of shame and horror washes over me. How did things get so far out of hand?

I really cried to Laz because Uncle Roberto cut my birthday cake without singing happy birthday. I felt sorry for myself over a and used it as a reason to nearly screw my mom’s husband. Sure, my family has a tendency to treat me like an afterthought, but I’m a teenager. Don’t all teenagers think their life sucks and their family sucks even harder?

A sour taste fills my mouth. I think I’m going to be sick.

“I’m planning a party for next month,” Mom continues brightly. “My two-month anniversary with Lazzaro. Something to bring our two families closer together.”

He’ll hate that, but this is what Mom enjoys, throwing parties for people like her. Laz’s brothers will probably have a great time. They have the same polished attitude as Mom and my uncles.

“Sounds great,” I manage in a hoarse voice. “Sorry, I have to . . .”

I gesture over my shoulder and hurry out of the room, worried that if I stand still I’ll start retching. In my room, I curl up into a ball on my bed, hugging my knees. I feel so dirty. I let a man who’s too old for me use me to take revenge on the woman he didn’t want to marry. When he finally gets his money, he’ll disappear and leave me behind, and I’ll have nothing but regrets to show for our sordid time together.

The night passes painfully slow, and I barely sleep at all.

When I come downstairs in the morning, Mom is cooking Sunday brunch. Waffles and bacon, and she seems happier than she has in weeks. She even drops a kiss onto my head when I make myself coffee and perch on a stool.

My guilty conscious tells me it’s because she knows about me and Laz, and she’s showing me she wants me to confess and that she won’t be angry with me.

Laz comes in from the garage a few minutes later and washes the engine grease from his hands in the sink. The T-shirt he’s wearing hugs his muscles, and I look away quickly before I can start fantasizing about him.

“Just in time, darling. Sit down and have breakfast with us,” Mom coos at him.

Laz stares at Mom like he doesn’t know who she is as he shakes off his wet hands. After seeming to decide that the place settings, the bowl of strawberry pieces, and basket of waffles hold no threat to him, he shrugs and sits down at the counter with us.

Steaming waffles and bacon are set before us. I haven’t got an appetite, but I force down a tiny bit of food so Mom doesn’t figure out that anything’s wrong.

Mom turns to her husband with a bright smile on her face. “Lazzaro, you came in so late last night that I didn’t get to tell you the good news. I’m throwing us a party to celebrate our two-month anniversary.”

Laz gives a mirthless laugh and shakes his head as he reaches for the strawberries. “Oh, yeah. Something to celebrate.”

“It will bring our two families together, and everyone will get to see how well Isabel is doing since her accident. It’s the perfect occasion.”

“What day? Maybe I’m busy,” he mutters. “Or dead.”

Mom shoots him a disapproving glance and smacks the back of his hand like he’s a naughty boy. “Oh, hush. The twelfth.”

I look up in shock, a piece of bacon halfway to my lips. “The twelfth? But that’s the anniversary of Dad’s death.”

Laz looks up and frowns.

“Is it?” Mom answers vaguely, spooning sliced strawberries onto her plate. “I’d forgotten. Anyway, the party starts at two in the afternoon for drinks, canapés, and then a sit-down meal at five.”

“I can’t. You know I go to the cemetery that day.”

Mom shrugs, her smile growing brittle. “You can go the day after this year. It’s not as if Ennio will notice if you’re there or not.”

That’s hardly the point. Of course Dad won’t notice if I’m there, but it’s something I’ve always done and she knows that. Every year she makes some flippant comment about it, but she’s never actually stood in my way before.

“He’ll notice Mia’s absence from the cemetery more than you’ll notice her presence at the party.”

I shoot Laz a grateful look, and he gives me a tiny smile in return.

I turn to Mom. “You can have the party without me. Laz’s right. No one will miss me.” No one except him. It might have been fun to sneak away and do shots together.

Mom puts down the syrup bottle, every trace of a smile disappearing from her face. “Mia. Life is for the living. I don’t know what makes you think you can pretend you’re not part of this family.”

Laz puts down his fork and sticks his hand in the air. “I’ll take a wild stab at that.”

“No one asked you,” she shoots at him, her voice filled with venom. “I don’t want to hear any more excuses, Mia. You’re coming to this party.”

“Can’t you move the party a day earlier or later? Isn’t your anniversary on the tenth anyway?”

“The tenth wasn’t available. I booked the room for the twelfth, and I can’t change it with the Regency. It’s the most popular venue in the city, and they’re booked out solid for months. I could only secure the ballroom because there was a cancellation.”

“Then I’ll go to the cemetery in the morning,” I tell her.

“I need you to help me set everything up in the morning. Your family needs you, Mia. Why are you being so selfish?”

“How can you say I’m being selfish? You know what that day means to me.”

Mom’s nostrils grow pinched and white with anger. “I made you this lovely breakfast, Mia. I put that photograph in a beautiful frame. I thought you could be as thoughtful to me as I’m being toward you.”

Laz reaches for the syrup and pours it all over his waffles. “You should have married Faber. He loves emotional blackmail, too.”

I spent the whole night feeling guilty because Mom was being so nice all of a sudden. I should have realized she had an ulterior motive.

“Tell me,” I say, my voice shaking with anger. “Did you get that photo framed because you scheduled your party on the anniversary of Dad’s death by accident, or on purpose?”

Mom flushes red. “You unreasonable, ungrateful child. After all I suffered to bring you into this world, and this is the thanks I get? If you don’t want to be part of this family, then you can pack your things and get out. You’re eighteen years old, and it’s time you started taking some responsibility.”

Laz gives her a dirty look. “It’s a party, Giulia. Why are you being such a bitch about this?”

I wipe my hands on my napkin and stand up. “Thank you for breakfast. If you need me, I’ll be upstairs choosing my dress for your stinking party.”

As I walk out of the room I hear Laz growl, “You’d kick your own daughter out over a party? Classy move.”

When I’m alone in my room, I throw myself on my bed and pull out my phone to check my banking app. If Mom does kick me out, how much money have I got to work with?

Thirteen hundred dollars. After paying rent and deposit on some shitty apartment, I’d have nothing left. I’ve only worked a handful of Saturday nights, and the first two times I barely broke even after tip out and house fees. When my confidence grew, so did my earnings, but not fast enough.

I sigh and drop my phone.

A moment later it buzzes. It’s a text message from Laz.

I can feel his outrage over what Mom’s done and it warms me a little. I stare at the message, wishing I could feel Laz’s arms around me.

A moment later, my phone buzzes again.

He was so jealous and torn up about me in that strip club, but he’s willing to swallow it down for me?

I sigh and shake my head.

I grin as I picture Laz on the pole at the club.

I feel a jolt as I realize I’m smiling, and it’s because of Laz. I can’t remember the last time anyone else made me forget about my worries for a while.

, I type back.

I hug my phone to my chest. I care about him, too. Maybe I’m going to hell, but all I want is some peace and quiet, and Laz.

Just me and Laz, always. Am I crazy, or would that be perfect?

“Knock, knock.”

I look up from my homework to see Laz filling my doorway, wearing a pair of jeans so tight that they would make an angel blush. I wonder if it hurts to get a hard-on in those, or if it aches in a good way. Sometimes when I get turned on in tight jeans I purposefully squeeze my thighs together and it feels amazing.

“Your Mom’s gone out,” he tells me with a wicked smile.

I roll my pen absent-mindedly along my lips. Is this when it happens? Are we going to have sex in my bed while Mom is out? I don’t think I’ll be able to relax if I’m listening for her car the whole time. Then again, Laz has a habit of blocking out my awareness of everything but him when we’re together.

But instead of pulling off his T-shirt, he digs his phone out of his back pocket as he strolls toward me. “It’s time for some revenge, Bambi.”

I stare at his chest, kind of wishing he’d take off his shirt. “Hm? Sorry, what?”

Get your mind off his dick.

“Revenge,” Laz says again. He cups my cheek and plays his thumb over my lips. “Ruin her party.”

I suck in an alarmed breath. “I can’t do that.”

“Yes, you can. She scheduled it on the anniversary of your dad’s death knowing it would upset you. If you don’t wreck it, I will. But it’s easier if you help me.”

“Why?”

“Because my Giulia Bianchi impression isn’t up to much.”

He taps his phone a few times and I suddenly realize what he intends for us to do. We couldn’t.

We .

That’s just plain wicked.

A thrill goes through me.

“Let’s do it together. I’ll hit dial. You speak.”

He presses Call and puts it on speaker phone. It rings a handful of times and then someone picks up.

“Hello, you’ve reached the Regency Hotel. How may I help you?”

Laz speaks in a cheerful voice. “I’d like to speak to the events coordinator, please.”

“One moment.”

Another dial tone sounds, and then a woman picks up and announces herself as Kelly, the events coordinator.

Dead air. Laz stares at me.

“Hello?” Kelly says again.

My jaw works.

Am I really going to do this?

I reach out and hit the red button, hanging up the call.

Laz rubs the back of his neck, his face falling. “Ah, Bambi. Why’d you do that?”

Because this isn’t just about the party.

“I can’t. We can’t. You’re . I know she’s unreasonable and selfish sometimes, but she’s my mother.”

“You’re too fucking noble,” he growls.

“And you’re going to get yourself killed.”

He gives me a hard, sarcastic smile. “No shit. I’m a Rosetti, after all.”

“What?”

Laz breezes past that statement. “There are only two things I want, my money so I can buy my garage, and you. I can’t have my money yet, so I’m going to have you.”

He tries to kiss me, but I put my hand over his mouth, stopping him. “I’m not your consolation prize.”

He takes my hand away. “Bambi, you’re my grand prize.”

Our lips are so close together. I could kiss him right now. A lover’s kiss, more about feelings than sex. Wanting my stepdad is one thing.

Falling in love with him?

Insane.

I pull myself out of his grip and back away.

“I can’t be your anything. I really like you, I care about you, I’m always thinking about you, but this isn’t right.”

The expression in his eyes flickers between anger and pain. “If you wanted to say the words that would make me back off, those aren’t it.” He moves toward me like a hunter stalking prey. “You like me? You care about me? That’s oxygen to me.”

I was trying to remind him that he has good qualities and not to throw his dreams away on an affair that might get him killed.

I’m reminding myself, too. He’s the man who goes up to bat for me when no one else will. His protection feels like warmth pouring through my body. We can’t destroy all that goodness by acting like idiots.

Laz takes me in his arms and his mouth descends toward mine in a hungry kiss.

I have only a split second of sanity, but it’s enough. I rip myself away from him and run downstairs. I need a cold drink. Maybe a swim. Something to clear my mind.

There are male voices in the lounge, and I realize that my uncles have come over. In order to get to the kitchen or the pool, I’ll have to pass by them, and I’m terrified that one look at me, and they’ll see shame painted thickly over my body.

“. . . being so difficult over the party. I don’t know what I’m going to do with her.”

That’s Mom’s voice. I freeze halfway.

“Difficult?” scoffs Marzio. “That girl was born a problem.”

I cross my arms and hug myself, wishing I knew what to do to make my uncles forgive me for being born. I’ve always been nice to them. Polite to them. Tried to stay out of their ways and not draw attention to myself. It’s never enough.

“Have her married off as soon as possible. Get her out of this house.”

“Maybe,” Mom replies, but she sounds uncertain. I feel a flood of gratitude that she’s not talking about me like I’m the problem child. “But who would take her?”

My heart plummets.

“We told you nineteen years ago what to do about that child, but you wouldn’t listen to us,” grumbles Uncle Tomaso, and someone else mutters his agreement.

“I thought she would fit into the family eventually,” Mom replies. I can’t see her, but she sounds tired and frustrated.

“All she does is cause trouble and bring shame down on our heads.”

“You must regret not following our advice, Giulia.”

What advice? What are they talking about? What happened nineteen years ago that—

Oh.

.

My insides freeze in horror.

Don’t say it, Mom.

.

Please, I’m begging you.

“It’s too late for an abortion now.” Mom laughs lightly. “I’ll handle Mia. She has her little moments of rebellion, but she’ll do as she’s told. She always does.”

Feeling like you’re not wanted is one thing. It plays on your mind in the dark, but you can shake off the misery when the sun rises.

Knowing you’re not wanted?

Self-hatred and shame deluge my body and soul so fast that I gasp and run for the stairs. I made myself so small for my family, so quiet, so they could pretend I didn’t exist. It was never going to be enough because they didn’t want me to exist in the first place.

I blindly try to find my bedroom, and run up against a tall, broad figure in black.

Laz clutches my arms. “Bambi? What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

I can’t speak I’m crying so hard. I open my mouth, but a sick feeling crawls up my throat so fast and I know I don’t have time to explain. I push past Laz and dive for the bathroom door, shoving it open and scrambling to reach the toilet.

Uncontrollable retching racks my body. My stomach feels like it’s trying to turn itself inside out as I throw up.

“Ah, my little Mia,” he murmurs, gathering my hair in his hands and then gently rubbing my back. “Are you sick?”

I wish he’d leave. It’s disgusting for him to see me like this.

Finally, my guts stop heaving. I wipe my mouth with some toilet paper and flush the whole mess down. I can’t meet Laz’s eyes, so I rinse my mouth out and splash cold water on my face.

“Should I go to the drugstore for you? Have you got food poisoning?”

Blotting my face with a towel, I shake my head. “It’s nothing. Just something I overheard Mom and my uncles saying.”

“What did they say?” he asks coldly.

“It doesn’t matter,” I reply, applying toothpaste to my toothbrush and shoving it into my mouth. I scrub every tooth and my tongue to the back of my mouth as hard as I can.

Laz watches me, his arms folded tightly across his chest and murder flickering in his eyes.

I spit and rinse my mouth, and my gaze drops to Laz’s jeans where I can see the outline of something rectangular. I move past him and shut the bathroom door. “Get your phone out. Make that call.”

His arms loosen in surprise. “Really? You mean that?”

I nod. Now that the sickness is passing, all I’m left with is anger.

I watch Laz make the call and get through to the right person, and he holds the phone out to me. There’s a smile on his beautiful, scarred lips.

I take a deep breath and assume my mother’s clipped, imperious tone. “Kelly. It’s Giulia Bianchi here.”

“Oh, hello, Ms. Bianchi. What can I do for you today?”

“I . . . need to cancel my party.” I fumble my way through the conversation, telling a clearly peeved Kelly that I understand I won’t get my money back.

“Can I ask the reason for this cancellation?” Kelly asks, and with her attitude you’d think I was rejecting an audience with the Queen of England.

“I changed my mind.”

“There’s a waiting list for this venue. I won’t be able to rebook the space for you for months if you change your mind again.”

“I won’t.” I reach out and hit the red button on Laz’s phone and hang up.

I cover my mouth with both hands, shocked and delighted at the same time. Laz is staring at me like he can’t believe I actually went through with it. I can’t believe I went through with it either.

I move my hands aside and whisper, “I’ve never done anything like that before.”

“How did it feel?”

“Amazing,” I breathe.

“You bad fucking girl.” Laz pulls me closer, takes my face in his hands, and kisses me hard, his tongue parting my lips. My heart is beating wildly as Laz perches me on the vanity and moves between my thighs, pulling them around his hips. He overwhelms me.

Invades me.

Conquers me.

It’s the most intense kiss of my life.

I take his lower lip between my teeth, biting down gently. He groans, and I revel in my newfound power. I’m done being a good girl for the Bianchis.

From now on, I’m going to be a bad girl for Laz Rosetti.