Love is Rage

Chapter 1 Elena

CHAPTER 1

ELENA

Elena Morelli stared at Lorenzo’s coffin, praying her husband wouldn’t somehow crawl his way back out of the dirt. While the minister said his prayers and led Lorenzo’s soul through the valley of shadow of death, she wished him a one-way ticket to the fiery pits of hell.

The bastard had taken sixteen years off her life. He had managed to scar her soul without ever laying a single hand on her. The surveillance he had put her under, dictating every part of her life, had been gruesome. The crown jewels were less protected than she was. The difference between the two? Those jewels were put behind lock and key to keep a nation’s legacy safe; she was put in a golden cage to keep his secret safe. Keeping up appearances in his Italian family had been everything to him. Even though the bastard had ruined her life, part of her couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. Society, his world, didn’t accept him for who he was, and he hadn’t been strong enough to break free of its chains.

In the end, she had merely existed, not lived. But it had been worth it. Everything had been worth it as long as it kept her little girl safe. She couldn’t wait for Vicky to return from Switzerland, and to hold her in her arms again. To be alone with her without a small army of bodyguards surrounding them.

Her pointy black Gucci pumps writhed in the dirt. She couldn’t wait to get rid of them. Today would be the last time she wore heels above three inches. The same went for the tight black dress and the even tighter corset underneath it.

She had longed for the day she could wear jeans again. For Lorenzo, she always had to look like the perfect mobster wife. Designer clothes, three-hundred-dollar haircuts, nine-inch heels, and sparkling jewelry no human should spend that much money on.

Lorenzo had hated her curves and demanded her to look “fit” during obligatory meetings with his capos, where she played the dutiful wife. First thing in the morning, she was going to gorge on pasta. Delicious pasta with a creamy mushroom sauce that would melt in her mouth. Followed by a pile of tiramisu, calories be damned.

The line of people at the funeral was long. One after the other, family members and business associates of Lorenzo’s, came to console her, paying their respects to a man who didn’t deserve any. If they only knew the man he truly had been. But they didn’t. Oh, they knew he was a made man, at the head of his own crime syndicate, but that was the funny thing about the Family. No matter how many people you killed, drugs and prostitution money you collected, as long as you appeared to be a “family man” on the outside, everything was wonderful. They would sit at your table during Sunday dinner and hang on to your every word.

The epitome of another fake family man was standing next to her—her brother-in-law, Pedro. The youngest of the two Morelli brothers. For all their “family is everything” mantra, the brothers had hated each other with an unheard-of passion.

Lorenzo had been the bane of her existence, but at least he let her be, as long as she did nothing to smear his good name. Pedro, on the other hand, was a conniving son of a b***h who would sell his own mother if it fit his agenda. Thankfully, his mother wasn’t alive to see that day. Unlike Lorenzo, Pedro had an unhealthy appreciation of her curves. The only thing stopping him so far from making a move on her had been his brother. It was just a matter of time before he would make a pass at her. All the more reason she had to get out of this place.

When the last of Lorenzo’s uncles and nieces paid their respects and she and Pedro were alone, she looked him straight in the eyes.

“We need to talk.”

Pedro nodded. “I don’t think I need to remind you that what happened in the family stays in the family. Or what will happen if you sing like a bird.”

She could read between the lines just fine: keep your trap shut about Lorenzo’s double life.

It was difficult to not give him the finger. “Duly noted.”

He nodded. “Good. There’s much to discuss.”

No, there wasn’t. “I’m leaving.” When his jaw set, she added, “I can’t play the grieving widow any longer. I’m not as good an actor as you are.” His lips thinned, but he didn’t deny it. They both knew how he had felt living in his brother’s shadow his entire life. “You have what you wanted all along. You’re head of the Family now.”

“The lawyer will need your signature for the will.”

She highly doubted Lorenzo had left her and Vicky anything. Regardless, she didn’t want anything from him. All she wanted was their freedom.

“I will sign any paper as long as it’s clear that I’m leaving in the morning. After that, I never want to see another Morelli again.”

His eyes flashed, and the still-rebellious part of her reveled in it. Was it smart to go off against him? Probably not, but it had been ages since she had been allowed to speak her mind without it having any repercussions. Any time she’d done something that didn’t please Lorenzo, it had had severe consequences.

Missing Vicky’s first birthday.

Not being allowed to speak to her girl for a week.

Lorenzo had been a master at using her weakness against her. It had been how he’d forced her to marry him in the first place. Not that it mattered any longer. The past was dead and incinerated. There hadn’t even been a body left to be buried, since Lorenzo had been blown up into pieces. Another bygone. Another chapter of her life was closing. All she could do now was look forward.

Sadly, when she looked straight ahead, the icing on an already crappy day came into her view—her cousin, Giorgia. A six-foot, Versace-clad python graced with the figure of a supermodel. Unlike Elena, she wore her designer outfits perfectly. Her lips were smeared in a shiny red, too much for a funeral, but then again, that was Giorgia, always wanting to have all the attention. And it worked; men of all ages, from the busboy handing out drinks to the gathered capos, had their eyes on her.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Giorgia said, putting on her perpetual fake smile.

At least she didn’t make an attempt to kiss her.

“Thank you,” Elena said, returning her smile.

“Must be hard, losing yet another man in your life.”

Pedro tensed next to her. It was just the three of them, and they all knew who Giorgia was referring to. Lorenzo’s killer: Viking Skarsgard, underboss of the Romanov Bratva. Though Viking was so much more than that. Another thing they all knew, but never spoke of.

When Giorgia didn’t get a rise out of her, she tried again. “Becoming a widow at your age. I don’t envy you.”

Classic Giorgia, pretending that, at thirty-four, Elena was ready to be put out to pasture. She seemed to forget they only were two years apart and, in fact, Giorgia was older.

“And then there’s also Vicky, who—”

Elena grabbed her hand and pulled her close, pretending like they were hugging. “Don’t,” she said, as she crushed Giorgia’s fingers. “You mention her name again and this time, I’ll blacken both your eyes.”

Her knuckles turned white thinking of that night sixteen years ago when she’d put her fist in her cousin’s face.

Such a sweet memory…

Giorgia winced but wisely kept her mouth shut. The second Elena let her go, she scurried away like the poisonous scorpion she was.

Elena got back into a car, feeling exhausted as her driver took her back to the mansion.

Several of Lorenzo’s aunts followed her into the house, handing her casseroles and massive plates of food. Two of them, the queens of gossip, were talking while putting their plates into the fridge.

“At least Lorenzo’s line didn’t die with him.” Elena ignored the glance thrown her way.

“I haven’t seen Victoria, have you?” another aunt said.

“They say she couldn’t make it from boarding school in time. She’ll arrive in the morning.”

Yup, Elena had made sure of that. Her baby girl had been safely tucked away in Switzerland for the past few years. Sadly, she hadn’t been able to keep her from coming after Lorenzo’s passing. It would have raised questions if she wouldn’t have come home after her “father’s” death, but Elena had bought them some time. Pedro had no use for Vicky, and she expected him to go along with leaving her alone.

“Pity he couldn’t have any more bambinos.” They sent another glance her way. This time the disapproval wasn’t even hidden in a fake smile for the “grieving” widow.

Elena returned the smile. A sincere one, as she would have rather drank bleach to poison her womb than carry Lorenzo’s child. There was only one man she had ever wanted to give children.

Her hand went to her silver lioness pendant.

He hates me.

She grabbed hold of the kitchen island. It was no use to reminisce of days gone by. The past was dead. So were her chances of ever getting back together with her wild Viking. There was only one thing she wanted out of life anymore: extract her daughter and herself from the clutches of the Morelli family.

“Hey, sis.”

Ricky.

There were moments in life Elena wished she could just blink her eyes and the person in front of her would disappear. This was one of those moments.

She blinked once. Twice. Nope, her brother was still standing in front of her, all two hundred and fifty pounds of him. He had a casserole in one hand and a beer in the other. And he would stay that way the rest of this gruesome day. Ever since Ricky had been clean, he had compensated for drugs with food. Oh, and since her marriage to Lorenzo, he’d been climbing up the ranks in the Morelli organization. He was such a pathetic mess.

“What do you want, Ricky?”

“Now, is that any way to greet your brother?”

“I’d rather not see or greet you at all.” And come tomorrow, she wouldn’t have to anymore.

His smile tightened but didn’t falter. Which meant he wanted something from her.

“Well, you have to. I mean, who else you’ve got?”

She hated it when he went all, I’m your brother. We’re all the family we’ve got on her. “Just tell me why you’re here. If you’re worried about your position, go see Pedro. I don’t have any say in the family biz.” Like he didn’t already know.

He looked around the hallway and out the kitchen window. When he made sure no one was listening in, he drew closer.

“We need to talk. With Lorenzo gone, you have to make a move. You can’t let those vultures get everything we built up over all these years.”

Nausea threatened to overtake her when she saw the greed in his eyes. Once again, she wondered how they could be blood related. Had she ever even known him?

“What we built?” she hissed. “We built nothing. I didn’t want anything to do with Lorenzo’s blood money. I still don’t. In fact, I’m leaving tomorrow. You and this entire family can go to—”

His hand clamped over her mouth. “Keep your voice down,” he whispered.

If her eyes could shoot laser beams, he’d be incinerated by now.

She yanked his hand off her mouth. “If you don’t want to hear me speak, then don’t make stupid comments like that. I’m out, Ricky.”

When he sputtered, she gave him her back. There was nothing he could say to change her mind.

“Don’t be stupid. You need the Morelli money to keep safe. Let me help you.”

She rounded up at him, barely keeping herself in check from clawing his eyes out.

“You mean, like you protected me from Lorenzo? Or like you protected Vicky from him?”

His mouth shut, then reopened, but no words came out.

“I thought so,” she whispered and left him behind. Soon she would leave it all behind.

***

Her feet were killing her. Every step felt like agony to her tortured toes. She took off her pumps and went up the stairs to her bedroom. Receiving condolences from people all day while feeling like a complete fraud was taking its toll on her. When she passed Lorenzo’s study, she heard a crash, like glass shattering. Then, a familiar snarl.

“What the hell do you mean, he’s altered his will?”

Pedro‘s voice made her senses go on high alert.

“Lower your voice!”

It was said in a much lower tone, but she recognized it none the less as Mike’s, the family consiglieri.

She quickly moved into the adjoining room and pressed her ear to the air vent. Lorenzo, may the devil torture his restless soul, was paranoid about bugs. There was a weekly indoor sweep to make sure he could conduct his shady business in his study without having to worry about anyone listening in. He should have looked into the room next door: Vicky’s former nursery had been turned into a workout room. It gave Elena great joy that the room he had made especially for her at the same time was his greatest leak.

“We can still fix this,” Mike continued.

“I should’ve known the cazzo would pull something like this.” Pedro let out a maniacal laugh. “So, he thinks he can just hand everything over to his bastardo?”

Elena’s heart started to hammer in her chest. They were talking about Vicky. What had Lorenzo done? He never gave a damn about Vicky, other than when she served as a “shield”. He must have had an ulterior motive. He always did.

“Technically, he didn’t give her anything,” Mike said. “He gave it to her future husband. Every last dime of clean money, every estate, and property, in his name. We’re talking millions here.”

No…

Bile rose up in her throat as she realized the implications of what Lorenzo had done. She’d known he hated his brother but never expected him to go this far.

Pedro spit out a few more choice words, but then quieted. She could hear him pacing up and down the thick carpet.

“The one who controls her husband controls the will.”

“Exactly.”

Then Pedro did something worse than curse; he laughed. It was as if she could look right into his muddy, perverted mind.

“The girl turns sixteen in a few months,” Mike reminded him.

“Perfect time to get engaged.”

“What about Elena? She might protest.”

“Elena will do as I say. If she knows what’s good for her.”

Oh, she knew what was good for her. But most importantly, she knew what was good for her little girl, and that wasn’t to follow in her mother’s footsteps. She would not let Pedro use her as leverage to force Vicky to submit. She’d kill him first.

“You have anyone in mind?” the lawyer asked.

“I happen to know the perfect candidate.”

Of course, he did, the bastard.

Over my dead body, my little girl is getting engaged to one of your puppets.

Vicky would turn sixteen in a few months. The age Elena had been when she saw Viking for the first time. She wanted her daughter to have a chance at being a regular teenager as much as possible. To fall in and out of love, to experience all the joys in life. To come to her and cry her eyes out over a boy and then eat ice cream together while watching a chick flick.

No way was her daughter setting foot in this house again. Never again would either of them be controlled by a Morelli. At the same time, she knew Pedro would never let them just be, not when he had everything to lose and nothing to gain by it.

She slipped into her room and pulled out her phone. Her hands were shaking as she pulled up Vicky’s number. It felt as if there was a dragon chasing her down to burn her world into ashes once more. This time, however, she wasn’t a gullible eighteen-year-old.

She was a mom.

So, she did as she had rehearsed with Vicky a dozen times; she sent her daughter a simple message.

Code Red.