Trapped in his End Game (Series)

Prominent casino mogul dies.

Millionaire Dominic Toffoli’s will passes on torch to daughter.

Vittorio family not suspected in deadly Rizzo shooting.

Jack Vittorio: monster or philanthropist?

He’s definitely a monster.

The black text bleeds into the white screen and I blink my raw eyes. After scourging a hundred different news articles, I’m forced to accept that the mafia exists.

I sigh angrily, shoving the laptop away as thoughts of Joe burst into my head, unhindered. The scrape of his rough cheek against mine and the musky scent that clung to me after he left the apartment, and the way his lips took mine-it was as though he owned me. He felt free to do whatever he wanted with me, no matter what it was. I stalk into the bathroom and my eyes narrow at my flushed face. I attack my hair angrily with my brush, smoothing it out violently.

Why do I care if I look nice? He shouldn’t have kissed me and I shouldn’t have let him. What’s wrong with me? He’s obviously a violent man, filled with the kind of trouble I want nothing to do with.

I’m stuck with him, whether I like it or not.

And I have to get to work. I need to find evidence about everything Jack said, and I’ve just spent a ton of money renovating the casino. I absentmindedly rip off my fingernails, wincing when I tear off too much. Work. Just the thought of it makes my stomach roil. I don’t want to cooperate with these horrible men. I never wanted this.

My legs shake as I walk out my apartment and lock the door, wondering for the thousandth time how they managed to get inside my place without damaging the lock. I called a locksmith first thing in the morning right after I dropped the charges against Joe, for all the good that’ll do.

Nathan might know something about all this. Then again, he might not. If he knew, he would have told me. Warned me.

I’m on my own, just like Dad.

I barely pay attention to the road on the way to work. Somehow I manage to drive there safely in my foggy state, eyes barely staying open. I didn’t get much sleep last night. Slipping into the executive entrance, I climb up the stairs to my dark office and flip on the light.

A man sitting on the chair in front of my desk turns his head and blinks at me. I jerk violently, tossing my purse aside. It lands with a loud thump and my back flattens against the wall.

“Jesus!”

His lips thin. “It’s Joe, actually.”

Fuck’s sake. “What the hell is wrong with you? Why are you in my office?”

He raises a beautifully carved eyebrow. “To make sure you fulfill your end of the deal.”

Irritated and heart still racing, I bend down and snatch the purse off the ground. “Did you have to scare the bejesus out of me?”

He lifts one of his shoulders in a shrug. “You scare easily. Thanks for dropping the charges against me, by the way.”

I glower at him as I walk around my desk and sit down shakily. It strikes me as strange how I remember his lips on my face more than I remember his hand wrapped around my mouth to shut me up. Joe looks slightly more at ease, but he still wears that scowl he carries around everywhere. Haunted eyes stare at me from across the desk until I shiver and look away.

“I brought you some coffee.”

It sits in front of me in a cup. Starbucks. Seized by a sudden rush of indignation, I take the hot cup of coffee and immediately dump it in the trash.

His face darkens. “What the hell is your problem?”

The anger in his voice makes my rage falter for a moment. “Let’s get one thing straight, Joe. You are not here to tell me what to do. You’re here to help, and what happened last night will not happen again.”

A small smirk pulls at the edge of his mouth. “You kissed me back.”

My teeth grind together so loudly that I’m sure he can hear it. “It will not happen again.”

“Whatever you say, hon.” He grins at me again to let me know that he doesn’t take anything I say seriously.

This is going to be a fucking problem. I don’t know what he sees in me and why, but I’m definitely not interested in him. He’s just a thug. A mobster. I don’t associate with fucking mobsters.

It doesn’t help that he keeps staring at me with that blank face. He’s a fucking robot. No emotion whatsoever.

Then I notice two duffel bags sitting on either side of his feet. They’re huge, black bags.

“Do I even want to know what’s inside those?”

He kicks one with his foot. “Cash. Jack needs to put this money through the casino.” Suddenly, his voice rises in volume. “Which is why we need those fucking accounts opened as soon as possible.”

Money laundering.

I can’t speak. There’s a noise outside my office, the sound of someone laughing, and I flinch horribly.

“This is why you have to listen to what I say.”

“I don’t have to do anything you say,” I explode.

He’s on me in a flash. Joe gets up and two strides later, he stands over my chair and I’m fighting to get out. A terrifying look is on his face before he bends slightly and takes hold of my hair. His fingers dig inside painfully and wrench hard. I yelp as pain smarts over my skull, and then he bends my neck over the head of my chair as if he’s about to slit my throat. His breath hisses over my throat like a knife.

“Let’s face it, sweetheart. I am here to tell you what to do, so I’d appreciate it if you toned down the rudeness. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have to.”

My vision clouds over with tears that I’m too powerless to wipe away. They streak down my face instead. Why did you do this to me, Dad? Frustration from my job and grief over Dad’s death mix together in a confusing blur. I can’t tell what’s what anymore, and Joe looks into my eyes without a shred of sympathy.

“I fucking hate all of you.”

“Do your fucking job. All I’m trying to do is mine.”

He lets go of my hair, his fingers sliding through the strands as he turns around briskly and walks back to his chair. My neck is still bent over the head of the chair. I stare at the ceiling as tears leak out of my eyes. My chest shakes with silent sobs as images of when they lowered Dad into the earth flash in front of my eyes.

It’s not fair.

I wipe my face and pull my laptop in front of me so that I don’t have to look at him. I go through the list of accounts I have to reopen and make the necessary phone calls, reopening all of them as Joe listens silently. Then I slam the lid down and glare at the man lounging in the chair.

“There. Will you leave me alone now?”

He merely looks up. “You have a board meeting in five minutes.”

“What?” I open my laptop and look at my calendar. “Fuck!” I stand up abruptly and Joe follows suit as I sprint across the room and yank open the door.

Joe jogs at my side as I walk down the hall at a brisk pace. “Why are you in such a hurry?”

“I’m the goddamn President of the company!”

“Exactly. You can do whatever the fuck you want.”

I make a frustrated sound as I tear around the corner. I yank open the doors to the conference room and catch Nathan’s beady look, and Jessica’s smirk-wait, what? Why is Jessica here? The rest of the board members smile at me when I enter the room.

Chimes of “Good morning!” echo around me and I murmur back in response, still flummoxed by Jessica’s presence. Their eyes zero in on something over my shoulder, and I turn around to come face to face with Joe. Oh, right.

“Um-this is Joe DiFiore. He’s a personal advisor and he’ll be attending board meetings from now on. I apologize; I know that this is unusual.”

I recognize Mr. Blackwell from the funeral. He nods his head. “Not at all.”

It’s much harder to face them when I know now that Dad was deceiving them by providing fraudulent financial reports.

Nathan gives me an icy stare as we take our seats. We still haven’t talked since that disastrous meeting at the attorney’s office. It’s clear from looking at his face that his opinion of me still hasn’t changed. My insides squirm unpleasantly. I didn’t want this.

“Marisa, the board convened today because there has been an offer from Lences Holdings to buy out the company-”

“No,” I say in a loud voice, cutting him off. Jesus, the hair on the back of my neck rises as they all look at me. “I’m not interested in selling the company.”

I’m acutely aware that Joe sits beside me. If there’s an inkling of a sale, I could get in a lot of trouble.

Blackwell raises an eyebrow. “We’ve received a very generous offer. Are you sure you don’t want to hear the details? Your father was considering selling the company before he passed away, that’s why I bring it up.”

“I’m positive,” I say in a firm voice.This is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

“I’d like to put it to a vote.” My brother’s cool voice cuts through mine and the blue eyes seem to stab at me from across the room.

Goddamn it, Nathan. You don’t know what you’re doing.

“No.”

Jessica’s face looks puffy and tired, as if she spent the night drinking. She lifts her head, a defiant gleam shining through her eyes. “Yes.”

What the fuck?

My hands balled into fists, I watch as Nathan gives a hissing “yes” without a moment’s hesitation. I glare at both of them and Jessica blushes pink and looks away. The rest of the board votes negatively, and I try to savor my triumph over the bitterness I feel over Nathan.

My hands tremble over the table. “If that’s all, can we adjourn?”

“Certainly.”

Chairs scrape back as people stand up, and Nathan stands up stiffly, walking past me without a word. I follow him outside, determined to talk. My heart pounds as I chase him in the hall. He seems determined to ignore me forever.

“Nathan, we need to talk. I don’t understand why you’re trying to rope Jessica into this.”

He whirls around finally and I stumble backwards from the wrath radiating from his pores. I can almost smell it-a harsh metallic smell that reminds me of blood. “She has just as much of a stake in this company as I do.”

My stomach hardens. “She’s never had the slightest interest in the company. You’re trying to bend her ear. What kinds of promises have you made her? This is our legacy, and I’m not going to sell!”

His lip shakes. “Correction, it’s your legacy.”

I recoil from the spite in his voice. “It’s not my fault Dad chose me. It hasn’t exactly been a picnic, you know.”

“Oh, next you’re going to say that I should be glad Dad didn’t make me the owner? Fuck him and fuck you!” He yells in my face, flecks of spit spraying me.

I look around. People are gathered down the hall, watching us. My cheeks burn and I tug him into my office.

He slams the door shut and rounds on me, and I have a vivid, visceral recollection of him just like this when we were younger. Nausea creeps up my throat as he approaches me.

“Give me your shares, and I’ll let this go.”

My heart lodges somewhere in my throat, choking me. “N-no! I’m not going to do that!”

“Then we’re going to have a fucking problem. I deserved this, not you. I worked for this, not you! It should have been me!”

The volume of his voice vibrates the walls of my chest. It’s like a force exploding outward, and I flinch from the waves of destruction, but I hold my ground, however shakily. “I am not seven years old anymore. You can’t bully me. Dad found me a better candidate for the job, so just deal with it.”

“I will fucking kill you!”

Nothing could have prepared me for the mad look in his eyes, his cool hands suddenly attached to my throat, slamming my body against the wall with a deadly confidence as if he had done it hundreds of times before. I look into his eyes, pleading for him to stop, to remember that I’m his sister, but there’s nothing but hatred inside them.

There’s a loud noise and suddenly Nathan’s hands fly off me as if he was burned. He holds his hands up as Joe stands in the doorway, his eyes wide with shock.

“I didn’t do anything-just-I didn’t mean-” The babble of excuses I’ve heard a million times before rattle from his mouth. Nathan tries to smile at Joe, to win him over like he won so many others, but Joe isn’t buying it.

The door slams and I grasp my neck, rubbing my sore throat. Nathan attempts to leave the room, but Joe grabs him by his blond hair and slams him face-first into the wall.

“What the fuck-ah!”

I’ve never seen this violent side of Joe. His whole face contorts with fury and he looks at Nathan as if he is the lowest form of life on Earth, like he’s subhuman. He grinds Nathan’s face into the wall, pinning his arms behind him.

“You think you’re fucking slick, don’t you?” he growls near Nathan’s ear. “Beating on your own sister?”

“I didn’t beat her! Get the fuck off me!”

“Joe, stop it!”

“Do it again, and you’re dead.”

“Joe!”

He lets Nathan go with a shove, who glares at both of us with deep disgust.

“Who the fuck is this?” His voice shakes with betrayal and outrage.

“I’m the guy who just stopped you from strangling your sister.”

Nathan regards him for a moment and then turns his back and leaves out the door. Joe grabs the handle and opens the door to run after him, but I slam it shut.

Joe’s face turns towards me, hissing. “Marisa-”

“Please.” I take his hand and yank him away from the door. “Please, don’t. He’s my brother.”

I don’t know why I’m defending him. Maybe I’m fucking terrified of him, I don’t know. Maybe I don’t want to see any violence inflicted on him, even if he’s a prick who deserves it. Already, my mind is making excuses for him. He didn’t mean it-he was upset. Anyone would be upset. I squeeze my eyes shut as tears build up inside them and Joe’s hand turns in mine so that he’s holding my hand.

“I don’t care who he is. He was way out of line.”

“I can’t, all right?” I spit out, my whole body shaking. Tears leak out of my eyes and I almost jump at the feeling of his hand on my cheek. His thumb wipes away my tears and my breaths instantly calm. Why is he doing this?

His widened eyes stare down at me. Surprise and something else that might be pity shines through them. “Listen, I get it. I’m Italian, too. I get that family is important to you, but there are limits.”

“It’ll make things worse. I don’t want him going after anyone else.”

Like Jessica.

“Marisa, I get that, but not only a minute ago, he had his hands wrapped around your throat. Don’t you care about your own safety?”

“Don’t pretend you care. You would do the same thing if Jack gave you an order.”

His hand falls from my cheek and his comforting warmth disappears. His stare drops to the floor and he clenches his fists. When he looks back up at me, his gaze is filled with that haunted, sad look. I feel it like a sword running through my body.

Joe picks up the duffel bags still lying on the floor and leaves out of my office without another word. What I said must have upset him. Good. He has no right saying that shit, when he probably does the same thing every day.

So why then do I feel so bad about it?