Accardi (Genevieve and Matteo) by Allison Franklin novel Chapter 88

Chapter Eighty–Eight

Genevieve walked into the apartment, dragged herself to the sofa, and face planted. From passing out drunk with her best friends to waking up far too early. to drop them back at the airport, she’d forgotten about four important meetings she’d scheduled along with the “ladies lunch” she’d promised Kaitlin to attend. Gen inhaled the scent soaked into the couch she’d discovered a few days ago. It smelled of honey and Matteo’s tobacco. She wasn’t sure why this particular piece of furniture smelled so much like him but she’d laid down one rule to her roommates when they’d stepped in the apartment: no one sleeps on it… but her.

She stretched her arms above her head and rolled over to stare at the ceiling. With a hangover from hell, the last thing she wanted to do was go to lunch

with a bunch of women she didn’t know. If not for the look of excitement on Kaitlin’s face, Gen would have canceled. Much to her surprise, the Ladies Lunch

had actually been a lot of fun. It turned out the girls included Kaitlin, Mrs. Tutt, Georgia as she instructed Gen to call her in the future, and the receptionist,

Simone. They’d sipped wine and spewed office gossip like that was their job. Gen was surprised to even see Georgia getting in on the action.

Then there came the obvious questions about her relationship with Matteo. Kaitlin offered up her own relationship update as a bargaining chip. Apparently she and Alexander were officially dating. Based on the color in her cheeks and the way she tore her napkin apart as she spoke, Gen could tell they were

going hot and heavy and nothing would slow them down anytime soon.

Gen enjoyed listening to the girls gush about their love lives until Simone asked her what she’d be wearing to the charity ball coming up. When Gen asked what she meant, they all seemed shocked that Matteo hadn’t asked her to go yet. It was next week, and Matteo always attended. Apparently the event had a heavily selective guest list wherein all the women wore million–dollar gowns, sparkled with diamonds and arrived on the arms of the wealthiest men in the city. No press was allowed past the extravagant red carpet and no one really knew what went on inside.

The rest of the conversation was mostly between the three other women while Gen tried to understand why Matteo hadn’t asked her to go. She felt like the captain of the math team waiting for the quarterback she’d been dating for a couple of weeks to ask her to prom. After that tidbit, she was actually glad to have back to back meetings as it prevented her from dwelling on the subject too much.

Gen’s phone buzzed and she answered it without thinking, believing it to be Matteo.

“Hello?” she said on a yawn.

“Genevieve!” Paul’s mom yelled into the phone.

Gen sat up straight due to the panic in her voice. “Mrs. Brooks?”

“Gen, something’s happened!”

“Okay, tell me what’s wrong, are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“No… No, I’m not okay,” she answered, sobs piercing through the speakers of Gen’s phone. “I’m not okay. My baby. They took my baby.”

“They took your baby? What’s going on?” Gen asked, starting to pace barefooted around the apartment.

“Paul, he got a new job with someone out in L.A. He started a few days ago and…” Mrs. Brooks had to take a break as a new round of sobs drowned out the

sound of her voice.

“Anna…” Gen sighed, her gut twisting.

“He’s dead!!”

Gen gasped and covered her mouth.

1/4

3:10 pm

Chapter Eighty–Eight

“Aty baby’s dead, Genevieve! Someone shot him! Someone shot him in the head!”

Banging started up on the apartment door, causing Gen to shriek.

“What is it? Are you okay, Honey?” Mrs. Brooks asked, her sobs fading as she tried to listen.

“I have to go, Mrs. Brooks but I promise I’ll call you later, okay?”

Before she could answer, Gen ended the call, her eyes locked on the door rattling with the force of the knocking.

“Gen, open up, it’s me!” Frankie called.

Gen released an annoyed sigh and walked over. She peeked through the peephole and, once satisfied it was him and not someone playing tricks, she disarmed the security system and let him in. Frankie breezed past her. He looked disheveled. His hair was ruffled, his clothes looked like he’d thrown them on in a rush and his shoes weren’t tied.

“Frankie, what the fuck? You scared the hell out of me.”

“I need you to sit down and watch something,” Frankie said, standing by the dining room table.

Gen crossed her arms and walked over to him. “What’s going on?”

“Matteo is still in the air. He won’t be here for hours. I need your help.”

“With what?”

“Sit down,” he said, his voice commanding, brokering no argument.

Gen decided to humor him and did as he asked. He reached over her shoulder and placed his beaten up phone on the table. The screen was black… and then

he hit play.

Genevieve gasped and covered her mouth with both hands at what lay before her. It was a video of a woman, tied to a ceiling rafter by her wrists. Her long slender body hung just off the floor, her back facing the camera. She’d been stripped naked. Her skin was covered in cuts and bruises. The redness around her wrists told Gen the woman had been hanging there for some time. A man walked up to the woman and turned to the camera. He had salt and pepper hair and dark eyes that reminded her of when Matteo saved her in the warehouse: cold, calculating, intent on bloodshed.

The man in front of the camera pulled a knife from his boot and brandished it for the camera, putting on a show. He walked up to the woman who had not moved a muscle since the video had begun. The man held one side of her waist, took the knife and started to cut. The woman’s back arched and Gen could hear a muffled scream as the fucker cut into the woman’s skin. Tears streamed down Gen’s face. She wanted to look away, but she felt she owed it to this woman to watch what they were doing to her. After a few agonizing minutes, the man stepped back, his work obscured by his frame. Then he stepped to the side and Gen realized he wasn’t just cutting, he was carving out a message.

CARMELA’S

1 O’CLOCK

COME GET

YOUR BITCH

ACCARDI

2/4

3:10 pm PDD

Chapter Eighty–Eight

The man spun the woman around revealing her to be Beatrice, Gen knew then that the man must be Matteo’s cousin and he’d figured out Beatrice was a

plant. Gen frantically wiped the tears from her face as the screen went black again and Frankie took his phone.

“Why… why would you show me that?” she asked, standing up and taking a few steps away as if Frankie had unleashed hell on her and she was afraid he

might do it again.

Frankie’s eyes were dead as he stared at her, gauging her reaction. “Matteo is in the air.”

“You already said that.”

“He won’t be here til morning.”

“And he can deal with this then, can’t he?”

“You saw what Galante wrote. He wants a meeting at 1 am or he’ll kill her, Gen,” Frankie said, his voice monotone, not giving away his true emotions.

“Then go and meet him!” Gen yelled, flailing her arm at him.

Frankie’s stone face cracked as he laughed through his nose and the corner of his mouth lifted. “It doesn’t work like that.”

“Then how does it work, Frank?”

“You have to go.”

“I have to… What?!” Gen yelled again.

Frankie scrubbed his face. “I’m just the number two. I can’t make deals or take meetings with other Dons. Only a Don… or a Donna can do that.”

“I–I’m n–not a Donna yet. I’m not fucking a–anything yet. I’m just Matteo’s girlfriend, th–that’s it,” Gen stammered, the slip of Matteo’s name the least of her

worries.

“Look,” Frankie said, sounding firm. “I’ve lost seven guys in three months. I have a funeral tomorrow, for fuck’s sake, where I have to watch two of them get put in the dirt. I know you’re spiraling and I get it. I do. But I don’t have the fucking time to coddle you and hold your hand and tell you everything is going to be okay. A woman’s life is at stake, Gen, and you are the only one who can save her. So you can be a fucking baby or you can find that woman inside of you that bit a man’s lip off and buck the fuck up!”

Gen stared at Frankie whose voice had risen throughout his monologue. She wondered what would happen if she had it in her to say no. To tell him good luck and hope Beatrice somehow found a way out. Judging by the way his fists flexed at his sides, she guessed he planned to hog tie her, throw her in his trunk and hand her over to Galante as a bargaining chip with some kind of speech about how he was saving Matteo from a Donna who could give a fuck less about her own people. Unfortunately for her, Gen wasn’t the kind of person who could turn her back in a situation like this. A situation she herself had

found herself in not too long ago.

Fear raced up her arms, making her stomach flip and the hairs along her skin to rise in awareness. “Okay.”

Frankie’s eyes widened enough to split his lids. She realized he never expected her to go along with it.

“Okay,” Gen repeated. “I’ll do it. So long as you realize there’s not much I can do when Accardi realizes the situation you’ve just put me in.”

“Leave him to me,” Frankie said with a sharp nod. “All you need to focus on is Galante.”

Gen inhaled slowly, trying to find every ounce of courage she’d ever hidden away. “Tell me what I need to do.”