Becoming the Street Boss - Hayley Faiman Page 0,67
clears his throat. “There’s nothing to give you, not even a minnow,” he murmurs.
“That’s cute. You think I don’t know who he works for?” She shifts her gaze to me. “We all know exactly who you work for, Ferrucci.”
Tilting my head to the side, I lick my lips and shake my head once. “I have nothing to give you, not a single thing.”
This bitch can hook me up to a lie detector test, because what I’m saying is the absolute truth. I have absolutely nothing to give her. Not a goddamn thing.
She lets out a sigh, then shakes her head once. “Then I can offer you five years. Your wife will be what, twenty-five by then? That’s a long time for a girl that young to be all alone, Mr. Ferrucci. Who will satisfy her? Keep her safe?”
Clenching my fists, I gnash my teeth together. I want to beat the absolute shit out of this fucking cunt. Absolutely fucking pummel the shit out of her smirking lips.
“Give us a moment, yeah?” Salvatore calmly asks.
I can sense him next to me, he’s not calm in the slightest. If he’s fucking this bitch, I have a feeling her cunt is going to be hurting tomorrow, because he’s going to take all of his frustration out on it.
“I’ll give you two hours. It’s off the table after that. I’ll be in touch.”
Without another word, she stands to her feet. I watch her ass as she walks away. It’s a nice ass, encased in a too-tight skirt, but she’s built nicely, so props to Sal if he’s giving it to her. At least she’s got a hot body.
“You wanna tell me if you’re smashing that?” I ask, turning to look at him after the door closes.
He chuckles. “I have, yeah.”
“Sleeping with the enemy,” I groan.
He laughs and stands as he makes his way over to her vacated seat across from me. He looks down, then lifts his gaze up to meet mine.
“This one is all her boss. Usually, I can sweet talk my way into her forgiving quite a few federal charges, and I have over the years. He wants someone to go down and he is making an example out of you. He has you on extortion, cugino.”
“You saying I should take the five years?”
He clears his throat. “I’m saying take the five years. You don’t know what a judge is going to hand you and this isn’t a bad deal. A hundred-k? That’s nothing. It’s a drop in the bucket. Five years in the long run isn’t much. I know it seems like that right now, your marriage is new, Pippa is young, but you can get out early for good behavior. I’ll make sure that’s in the agreement.”
“This is horseshit.”
“Yeah, but it’s the name of the game and you know that. Don’t worry about the bakery owner, it’s taken care of. Your position will be held for you without issue and Pippa will be taken care of. You know that she will be fine.”
Nodding, I lift my handcuffed wrists to the table. “You take care of that judge that tried to tell my wife to divorce me and it’s a deal,” I whisper to him.
Sal smirks. “Naturally.”
Five years. I don’t know if I’ll be able to do it, but it doesn’t seem like I’ll have a choice. Five long fucking years, because I know even though New York allows conjugal visits, federal prisons don’t.
Fuck.
Dipping my chin down to look at my hand, I curl my lip. That hand is going to be the only play I get for five goddamn years.
PIPPA
There’s a knock on my bedroom door. Inhaling a deep breath, I let out a sigh and force myself out of bed. I’m wearing a pair of Massimo’s sweatpants and one of his t-shirts. My uniform for the past five days.
My hair is a matted mess, and I’m fairly certain that I smell pretty bad, but I don’t really care. Every day that passes without any contact from Massimo, I can’t help but think that this could all be over. The life that I had hoped we would have, one filled with possibly love and children. It’s all done and over.
Yanking the door open, I lift my gaze to Renzo. His eyes widen, surprise crossing his features and I wonder how he could possibly be shocked, he’s been bringing me food every day, he knows what a fucking mess I’ve become.
“Salvatore is here to see you, girl,” he says, his deep