Accardi (Genevieve and Matteo) by Allison Franklin novel Chapter 89

Chapter Eighty–Nine

“Let’s go over it again,” Frankie said from the driver’s seat.

The nerves in Gen’s stomach climbed with each tick of the odometer on his dashboard, indicating they were getting closer to the meeting with Galante.

“Okay,” Gen said, trying to focus her thoughts. “His name is Galante. If I want to disarm him I can call him Michele. That’ll let him know how close I am

with Accardi.”

“If he asks why you don’t have a ring or coat of arms?”

“I tell him to mind his own fucking business and I’ll send him the wedding invite as soon as we put a stop to what’s going on in the business.”

“And what’s going on?”

“Our casinos and tracks are being hit. Someone is orchestrating massive frauds on horses and tables.”

“Good. He’s going to bring up Beatrice. He’s going to ask what you know about it.”

“I know everything about it. How we know he’s coming for us. How we planted Beatrice like he planted… Umm…” Gen tried to remember.

“Damian and Jorge,” Frankie reminded her.

“Right, Damian and Jorge. Damian and Jorge. Damian and Jorge,” she repeated until it was cemented in her head.

“What do you do when he tells you that he wants something in return for handing over Beatrice?”

“Don’t accept the first offer. What he really wants will be at least second or third,” she recited.

Frankie nodded and his jaw ticked as he slowed the car down and pulled up to a curb. She glanced out the window at the four burly men stationed at the

door… and the massive rifles they carried in their arms.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Gen whispered to herself.

“You can,” Frankie told her firmly. “You will.”

Frankie got out of the car and walked around to her side. She reminded herself of Frankie’s instructions. Don’t open your own door. Don’t look at anyone. Act

like a fucking queen. He opened the door and she watched his eyes zero–in on two men who emerged from the restaurant. Gen stepped out of the car, her

four–inch heels making her feel powerful as she strode across the sidewalk in the formal dress Frankie had forced her to wear. She kept walking, her chin

held high until one of the men at the door stepped in her path. She guffawed and eyed him up and down.

Don’t let anyone touch or intimidate you. “Move,” she ordered.

The man gave her a cocky smile and eyed her in return. “Gotta pat you down, Sweetheart.”

The man reached his hand out but before his fingers could brush her arm, Frankie grabbed his wrist and twisted. Gen fought to not react to the sickening snap of bones breaking. Frankie shoved the man against the wall, ignoring the four guns pointed at his head.

“Is this your first fucking day?” Frankie hissed. “You don’t touch a Donna. You feel lucky to be in her fucking pressence, you fucking imbecile. Think of touching her again and I’ll put six bullets in your brain courtesy of my boss.” Frankie released the man who cradled his broken wrist against his chest. Frankie’s eyes swiveled around to the other men. “That goes for you lot. Look at her…” he instructed. Their eyes swept over her skin–tight dress. “Think she

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3:36 pm M

Chapter Eighty–Nine

has a gun stashed in her pussy? Guess if I’ll let you try and find out.”

The other man who had emerged from the restaurant rolled his eyes and put his gun back in his waistband. “Calm down, Frank. We have to pat you down

though.”

“You know I don’t mind a good fondling, Stefano,” Frankie said with a wink.

Gen watched, hoping she looked unimpressed as Stefano patted Frankie down and pulled out four guns and six knives. Frankie shrugged at her raised eyebrow. Stefano walked away with the loot and Frankie gestured forward with his hand, signaling for her to continue.

Genevieve walked into the restaurant. She wanted to look around at the opulent decor and dissect the various smells of the place Matteo had wanted to bring her for their first date. Instead, she focused her gaze on the man sitting in the corner booth, shoveling pasta into his mouth. It was the man from the video: Michele. Beside him sat the subject from the same video. Genevieve cast a glance at Beatrice whose wide–eyes showed her disbelief. Don’t look at Bea too long. It’ll make her seem more valuable.

Gen wrenched her eyes away from the bloodied woman and took the seat Frankie had pulled out for her. He took two steps back, staying within arm’s reach.

Michele still hadn’t looked up.

Gen sighed. “You wanted to see us?” she asked, hoping she sounded disinterested while her heart hammered in her chest.

“I wanted to see Accardi,” Michele said, his eyes lifting to speak with Frankie rather than her.

“You’ve got her,” Gen answered.

Michele scoffed and went back to his pasta. “I don’t see a ring on your finger. I haven’t gotten any announcements. You are no Accardi.”

Gen chuckled without humor, happy beyond belief that Frankie had prepared her for his callousness. “I’ll send you a personal invitation to the wedding when we are able to step away for more than two minutes without some fucking entitled piece of shit sending us a video begging for attention like he’s

some toddler who’s trying to get his mommy’s love.”

Metal clinked as he sat his knife and fork down on the plate. He raised a napkin up to his mouth as he sat back and looked at her for the first time. Cold. That’s what he was. Through and through. The blackness of his eyes were endless. They reminded her of a cave. She felt as though she could drop a pebble into the black of his eyes and she would never hear impact. He threw his napkin down as those black eyes took her in as well. He smirked and she knew he’d

caught a whiff of her fear.

*I heard you had a tongue on you,” he observed.

“And I heard you have something of mine,” she said, not looking at Beatrice. He’ll try to change topic. He’ll want to disarm you, make you question yourself.

Force him to stay on point.

Michele sighed and looked over at Beatrice. He curled his index finger and ran it down Beatrice’s arm. Gen had–to hand it to the woman. Even as beaten and bloodied as she was, she didn’t shiver in fear. She stayed perfectly still, the only indicator she felt anything at all was the narrowing of her eyes to slits.

“He almost had me with this one. Such a beauty. Even got me into bed. Luckily my second, Stefano, you met him at the door, he’s a bit more shrewd when it comes to the women I take a liking to. He did his due diligence. Saved me from a temptress.”

Michele backhanded Beatrice, knocking her to the ground. Frankie stepped forward and Gen held her hand up to stop him. He’ll hit her at least once, to gauge your reaction. Don’t give him one. She wished she could tell Frankie to take his own advice. Michele’s eyes went from Gen’s face to her hand to Frankie ready

to pounce.

“Take two steps back, Frankie,” Gen ordered, her voice firm.

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3:36 pm

Chapter Eighty–Nine

*Donna…”

“Now.”

Frankie sighed and did as he was told.

“Good for you,” Michele said with a nod of approval at Gen. “Tell me, did you use clicker training or the electric collar? I prefer electric.”

“What do you want, Galante?”

Michele chuckled. “You can’t give me what I want.”

“Try me.”

“I want the club.”

Genevieve barked out a laugh, not having to fake that reaction. “That dingy old place? I wish I could dump it into your hands. The amount we would save on cleaners alone…” Gen whistled and laughed a bit more. She sighed. “Unfortunately you know I can’t do that. Damiano built it. Valentina’s place is next door. You know how sentimental the Accardis can be.”

Michele raised a brow and she was grateful Frankie had divulged Matteo’s father’s real name. It definitely made an impact. Michele pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it. Gen couldn’t help but smile. You know he’s ready to talk when he starts smoking. It’s his tell. He took a long drag from his cigarette and flicked the ash off the end onto Beatrice.

“I feel betrayed.”

“We all do at one point in our lives. What do you want?” she repeated.

“I want an apology,” Michele finally said.

Gen sighed and sat back in her chair. She tapped her nails along the table as she glanced around the room. An apology. If he asks for an apology we’re fucked. An apology doesn’t mean what you think it does, Gen. It’s basically like a fucking duel. The one who’s betrayed, if he can prove it, will get to choose a weapon and the two men will stand in a field like it’s the 1700s and duke it out. It’s fucking primevil but it’s the easiest way for him to challenge Accardi and come out on top. If he wins he gets everything Accardi owns. Which is what he’s really after.

Gen decided to go off–script. Her eyes connected with his. “Did you kill his family?”

Michele’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

“Antonio and Valentina. You had them killed, didn’t you?”

He scoffed. “There is no way to prove that…”

“So you did. If you didn’t you could just say so without having to defend yourself. You killed your cousin’s family, your own blood to what? Own a few

casinos?”

Michele’s eyes narrowed. “Look, here, bitch…”

“No, you look here,” she said, sitting forward, her instinct to go on the offensive. “You killed my in–laws and then had the gall to pin it on another family.

You have orchestrated the hits on our clubs and casinos…”

Chapter Eighty–Nine

Michele’s eyes narrowed, telling her she was wrong about at least one thing.

*You scheme and walk the path of a coward hurting and abusing a woman who was merely giving you something I bet you normally have to pay for. You trusted the wrong woman. Congratulations, you are among the majority of men on this planet. If you think I am going to sit here and agree to you taking a free shot at my future husband, then you have another thing coming. I am taking Beatrice to a hospital. You can arrange a deal with Accardi when he gets back from his business trip. In return for Beatrice, I will give you an apology.”

Gen ignored the fear weighing her legs down and walked to Beatrice. She helped the poor woman off the floor and turned back to Michele.

“I’m so terribly sorry you weren’t able to get your cock sucked one last time before she could no longer stomach the taste of your cum and outed herself, Michele,” Gen apologized before she spat at the floor.

She turned her back, a shiver of awareness carried up her spine but she ignored it as she tried to walk with grace toward the exit while holding most of

Beatrice’s body weight.

“You fucking bitch!” Michele yelled behind her. “You think you’re leaving here alive?”

Gen came to an abrupt halt as the men at the door barred her way. Her heart started to beat wildly in her chest as she heard scuffling and Frankie cursing for someone to let him go. She heard a gun cock and then felt the cold metal of a gun barrel pressing into the back of her head.

“Then again maybe we can come to an agreement so I can get that one last ‘cock suck,“” Michele suggested, making her stomach churn with disgust.

Then Genevieve heard a second gun cock.

“Hai davvero un desiderio di morte, Michele,” a voice said that definitely didn’t belong to Frankie. Geneveive felt her body go slack with relief. “Put your

fucking gun down now or Conor takes over your family by morning,” Matteo growled.