Impossible Odds

20

My thoughts and feelings were a chaotic jumble. I tried to convince myself I hardly knew the man and couldn’t possibly miss him, but cutting ties with him felt like losing a part of myself. The part that would help me realize my identity. Help me find my place in the world. Equal parts heartbreak and anger caused tears to cloud my vision. Never in a million years would I admit I needed a man to complete me. To make me happy. So why was I falling into that trap now? Yes, I was overwhelmingly attracted to Primo, but I didn’t need him. I was a strong, independent woman who didn’t need any man—especially one who could be dangerous to my family or me. It would be selfish to put the people I loved at risk so I could have a relationship. There were plenty other men out there. I needed to stop acting like a child.

I wiped my eyes, hoping Maria didn’t notice, then took out my phone. Scrolling to Primo’s name in my contacts, I typed out a message with trembling fingers. This isn’t going to work. Please stay away from me. I hit send and tried not to panic. None of my family knew I had his number, and I wasn’t going to tell. The fact that I’d ended it was all that mattered. Seeing him in my contacts was the one vestige of him I got to keep for myself. That, and his silver lighter would be all I’d have to remind me of the man who lit my soul on fire. OceanofPDF.com Chapter 10 Primo I spent the afternoon contemplating what Juan Carlos had asserted about my past. It made sense, no matter how hard it was to admit. My father had been right there in the same house as me, and I’d never known. My mother hid it well. Although, I’d been a child and likely wouldn’t have picked up on changes in her behavior when he was around. What had their relationship been like? I was certain it had to have been consensual. She talked about her boss highly, even in private. It made me wonder if he cared about her. He’d been married with a family, so he couldn’t acknowledge an affair with one of his staff, but he also didn’t send her away. We were always lucky enough to have money for a car and other treats when others who worked at the house couldn’t afford such luxuries. As a kid, I never questioned it, but now, I wondered if Alvarez didn’t provide for us beyond my mother’s wages. I’d been told my father was a soldier and had died near the time of my birth. A convenient story, yet so unlike my mother. She was a devout Catholic. My conception and the resulting lies must have weighed on her terribly. Perhaps enough to make a pilgrimage across the country to seek forgiveness at the feet of the Lady of Guadalupe. It was amazing how one bit of new information changed your perspective on everything. My mother’s memory was the one thing that remained unblemished. Her lie was never meant to hurt me. She could never have known things would end for her the way they had. She was one of those gentle spirits who couldn’t have hurt someone if her life depended on it, and Naz had killed her. She’d been nothing more than collateral damage. The day she died, I came home from school to find the estate in flames, surrounded by the local police. I raced through the crowd calling for my mother until the cook spotted me and held me firmly in her arms. She’d been at the market when it happened. As far as she could tell, no one in the house had made it out alive. I wept inconsolably. She tried to comfort me, but life as I knew it was over. I may have only been ten, but I’d heard stories about the corrupt homes that children were sent to when their parents died. I refused to accept that fate. As the tornadic flames whirled and danced, greedily consuming my childhood, I gathered my courage. When only crackling embers and smoke remained, I slipped away from the authorities and started my life on the streets. For two years, I fought for my survival every day. It wasn’t pretty, especially at first, but I learned quickly and was resourceful. When Naz found me, I was entrenched in an illegal fight club where I brawled with other teens for money. I was savage. Brutal. Making money and earning respect from some of the toughest men in the business. The day he came to the warehouse, men who I saw as kings began to whisper and sweat. Someone explained how Nazario Vargas, or El Zar as they called him, was the boss of bosses—more powerful than any man I’d known. He was drawn to me almost immediately, asking me questions and wanting to see me fight. I assumed he was interested in my skill and the chance to bring in young talent and train me to his liking. I believed what I wanted to believe because it was easier than questioning his motives. I wanted to go with him and breathe easily for a change. Life with Naz promised to be far superior to what I’d had on the streets. Now that I was finally analyzing the truth of what had happened, his motives were opaque at best. Most men at his stage in life didn’t adopt kids off the street out of the kindness of their hearts. Was it his way of twisting the blade into my father’s back even further? Or was he attempting to ensure I never tried to reclaim my father’s throne? Did it matter either way? The past couldn’t be changed. He’d equipped me to succeed in life and made me a wealthy man at a young age. There was no way to guess where my life would be had my mother not been killed or had Naz not rescued me from the streets. A game of what-ifs was always a losing battle. I needed to focus on work before my emotions carried me away and I did something I’d regret. It was probably time to check in with Santino and make sure all was well back home. He was my right-hand and one of the only people I trusted with my life. When I had to leave town, he was my eyes and ears back home. I took out my phone and realized I’d missed a text from Giada an hour earlier. I’d been too wrapped up in my thoughts to remember I’d silenced my phone. This isn’t going to work. Please stay away from me. The text wasn’t entirely unexpected, but my already turbulent emotions magnified my response. My veins coursed with undiluted hostility at whoever had frightened her away. I’d seen the cameras at her place and knew there was a chance her family would figure out who I was. The message had to have resulted from their interference. Perhaps they didn’t know who I was but had interfered anyway. The only person who could have identified me was Matteo De Luca, as far as I knew, and he was a part of a separate mafia family. We had believed the families were highly independent of one another, but they might share more information than we anticipated. I began to regret leaving the cameras functional, but I’d done it for two reasons. The first being the chance of identification was so slim. The second was a byproduct of my own weakness.