Scorned Obsession (Scorned Fate)

If I had gotten hold of Sandro before they found Bianca, I might have shot him on the spot. He promised to protect my daughter and failed. He let a man on the inside betray him. He didn’t know that his ex-fiancée was making moves to hurt him. My mind calculated how to capture this overgrown ape and get rid of him. It was easier said than done, but I would expend all my resources to make that happen.

But when I pulled up to the Albanians’ house and received the news that Bianca was safe and it was all over, all my rage leaked out and transformed into crippling relief. The fucker actually did it. Saved my daughter from the psychopath who was torturing her with a slow drowning.

Nico refused to send me the link to the video footage even when I threatened to cut him out of my will.

Sandro emerged from that hellhole, carrying my daughter, and it was a sight I would never forget. Because it was at that moment when I finally saw him as a man who deserved my daughter. It might have been an amalgamation of everything he’d done since the morning he sat at my breakfast table. The morning after he had the audacity to sneak into my house, and when I bitched about it to Ava, she reminded me I did the same once upon a time.

When Sandro stubbornly refused to relinquish my daughter to anyone until he got her to the safety of the SUV, my first caustic thought was he was dumb as fuck. I mean, he could have dropped her. He had two gunshot wounds, and one of them was a bleeder.

But in his dogged determination, I saw my hypocrisy, because I would have done the same if our situations were reversed.

I saw a man who would bleed to death just so my daughter could live. I saw a man who would always put my daughter first.

And that was what Sandro did.

The Rossi crime family was a mess, but he made sure Bianca went to the hospital and had every test done to ensure she was okay. He didn’t leave her side or have anyone look at his injuries until Bianca was given a clean bill of health. At that point, Sandro was in more danger of complications than she was.

He asked us to look after Bianca while he took care of the other problem.

We all wanted to take our shot at Miller, but in the end, Sandro didn’t allow it.

He said there wasn’t enough of Miller to go around and satisfy his bloodlust.

So here I was in the kitchen, trying to calm my daughter down. She kept checking her phone for a message from her husband.

I was making frittata, and I asked Bianca to help me. She was annoyed, but I didn’t give her a choice.

“What if he’s passed out somewhere?” she argued. I assigned her chopping duties because that was the most soothing to absorb her anxiety.

“He’s fine.”

“I should be with Divina,” she muttered. “She has so many funerals to prepare for and I should help her.”

I sighed. At that point, I put my hand on her arm to stop her chopping motion, and then put my hands on her shoulders to turn her to face me. “Divina insisted you should rest. She said it was time for her to show some spine.” At Bianca’s furrowed brows, I continued, “Her words, not mine. The Scavo brothers are helping her, and so is Sloane. But the Rossis are banding together to show support for their boss…”

“But Griselda…”

“She betrayed the family, carina,” I said softly. “She would have been exiled. Her death is a blessing…”

“Dad…!”

“Listen to me.” I gave her shoulders a light squeeze. My daughter needed to lose some of her empathy to survive being in her new position. I gnashed my teeth because ever since she was old enough to understand right and wrong, Ava and I had taught her to be sympathetic to the plight of others in less fortunate situations. But all that had changed. She needed a touch of ruthlessness inside her. When she returned after her forced marriage, I already noted a difference in her. I was just too stubborn to acknowledge it. “She would have caused friction between Sandro and Tommy. The Rossis are at a critical point in rebuilding the crime family. Those opposed to Sandro are gone. Your husband needs Tommy’s unwavering support. Sandro has a lot of rage in him. He might’ve killed Griselda after what happened to you, and he’d be justified. She betrayed the crime family. Her death is the cleanest break for everyone.”

Bianca dropped her gaze to the chopped vegetables. “I know that. I’m still worried about Sandro.” She glanced up. “Won’t the police be all over this? He’s not in jail, right? You’re not shielding me from this?”

“No, carina.” My voice softened. “That’s all taken care of.” Matteo and Dom had a meeting to clean this up as part of Archer business. They were going to recover the money Miller and Griselda embezzled and keep things quiet. Law enforcement didn’t want this headache either, because we could counter-sue at the negligence in transporting Griselda to the hospital. This was going in the books as gang violence and retaliation. The carnage at the Albanian house never happened.

Bianca’s eyes hardened before she dropped her gaze again to the chopping board and continued prepping the vegetables. I grieved the remaining remnants of my daughter’s innocence, but with it came a conviction that she was going to be okay. That I had to let her go and be the woman she was meant to be.

Footsteps outside the kitchen drew our attention. I narrowed my eyes when Ava appeared beside the simmering mountain that was Bianca’s husband. My wife had always believed in Sandro, which had historically irked the fuck out of me.

But this fucker was growing on me.

“Look who’s here!” Ava announced just as Bianca dropped everything and rounded the counter to fly into her husband’s arms.

My chest and throat tightened. Seeing Sandro’s face lose its hard edges and his eyes take on an adoring gaze was difficult to take in. But I stood transfixed as I witnessed his brawny arms wrap around my daughter. Then they drew apart and Sandro cupped Bianca’s face.

“Are you all right?” Bianca asked.

Sandro dropped his forehead to hers. “I should be asking you that.”

Again, it was hard to watch such love and devotion emanate from the pair as if they were the only two people in the world.

Ava came to my side, clasped my hand, and gave it a tug. I glanced at my wife and gave her a reassuring smile.

“Bianca.” I cleared my throat. “Why don’t you show Sandro to the west wing?”

She turned to me. “Are you sure, Dad? Don’t you need help?”

“Your mom and I have got this,” I said. Sandro and I exchanged a look. In the half a second that transpired, I knew the job was done.

Crowe Miller was dead.

I lowered my chin in acknowledgment. “I’m sure you and Bianca have some catching up to do. I told my boys to give you guys a break…”

“Oh, Dad.” Bianca looked unsure, then she glanced at Sandro. Something passed between them and it was Sandro who responded, “Bianca and I want them here. It’s a new beginning for all of us.”

“I’ll call them.” Probably have them pick up more food. “Go. Go get ready. You know your brothers are eager to see you, too.”

When Bianca dragged Sandro out of the kitchen, Ava turned to me. “That wasn’t too hard.”

I shot off a text to our family group chat and leaned a hip against the counter, a smile playing at my lips. “What do you mean?”

I knew exactly what she meant, and Ava knew this. She rolled her eyes and said it anyway, “Finally accepting Sandro.”

“It wasn’t a question about Sandro himself but the family he represented. That problem doesn’t exist anymore.”

Ava stepped into me and hugged me around the waist. “Agree. But admit it, you had a difficult time letting our little girl go.”

“I still do, but a wise fucker once told me that to do what’s best for my daughter, I have to love her less.”

Ava laughed. She’d heard me grumble about Sandro’s words before. But hearing my wife laugh and seeing her eyes twinkle lightened the somberness of the thought of letting Bianca go.

I dragged Ava into my arms. “Don’t think it’s going to work with you,” I muttered.

“What?” she teased. “Loving me less?”

“Yeah.” I searched her face. “I love you more and more each day. You know that, right?”

“Thirty years,” she whispered.

“That’s ten thousand nine hundred fifty days, give or take,” I informed her.

Her eyes flashed as our faces grew closer. “Wow, I’m feeling warm.”

A strangled groan rumbled up my throat before I crushed her lips and tasted the sweetness that had fueled the addiction for my wife day after day, year after year. After four children, and one grandchild, with another on the way, my life with Ava was only getting better.

I swept her up in my arms.

“Cesar! We can’t,” she scolded, knowing full well what I was up to. “The kids will be here any moment, and we have to cook.”

“Cooking can wait,” I muttered, marching out of the kitchen. “I told Matteo to pick up something from Eamonn’s.”

“And the frittata?”

My eyes crinkled at the corners. “That can be a snack. I have a feeling our family is going to stay up past midnight catching up.”

“Or play Monopoly.”

“You have cookies in the freezer?”

“Of course.”

“Then we’re set,” I told her. My heart was getting overwhelmed. My daughter was safe. And I finally trusted Sandro to look after her. I was devoting my time to my obsession.

Ava De Lucci.

My wife.