Becoming the Street Boss - Hayley Faiman Page 0,69

upstairs, slip into bed, and I sleep.

Chapter Twenty-Two

MASSIMO

Court.

It’s the last thing I want to do, but everything has to be completely official. Walking into the courtroom, I’m not surprised when my gaze scans the seating and I see my wife.

Her eyes are sunken in with purple circles beneath them. Her hair is dull and lifeless, her lips turned down in a frown. She looks fucking haunted.

I did this to her. I made her look this way. This is all my fucking fault and there’s nothing I can do about it. Setting her free isn’t an option. Not only is she mine, it would be unsafe for her out there.

Roman hasn’t been dealt with, in fact, the last I heard he’s fucking disappeared, which means the cops are probably hiding him—for now. Ignoring the federal prosecutor and even Salvatore, I make my way toward where Pippa is sitting.

She stands, her eyes focused on me, and walks toward the wooden banister that separates us.

As soon as she’s close enough to touch, I reach out and extend my index finger, sliding it beneath her eyes, touching the bruised skin there.

“You need to sleep, dolcezza,” I rasp.

She lets out a sigh, tilting her head to the side as her lips pout slightly. “All I do is sleep, Massimo,” she whispers.

Her eyes slowly open as I drop my hand from her face. “You haven’t been taking care of yourself, promise me that you will.”

“Five years,” she breathes.

“I know.”

Pippa shakes her head, her eyes filling with tears. “What do I do?” she asks with a whimper.

“You’ll be okay,” I say with a nod.

Though, I’m not sure if my nod and words are for myself or for her. Probably more for me than for her at this point. I need her to be okay, I need to believe that she will be okay. She needs to be okay.

“Will I? What happens?” she asks, her voice sounding as unsure as I feel on the inside.

“Nothing, dolcezza. We get through this, then I come home and shit goes right back to where it was before this whole nightmare started.”

The bailiff calls out for everyone to stand and I drop my hands from her, turning around to face my fate.

Dropping my head, I listen to the judge drone on and on about being responsible and then he scolds me like a fucking child. I can’t wait until I get the confirmation that this fucker is dead.

Finally, after at least thirty minutes of his bullshit, he hands me my sentence. Five years and one hundred thousand dollars, just like we had agreed upon. The bailiff makes his way toward me, a shit-eating grin on his face, all too happy to take a Zanetti famiglia man to prison.

“Massimo,” Pippa’s sweet voice calls out.

Looking back over my shoulder, my eyes find hers and even though tears are streaming down her cheeks, she’s strong. Her back is straight, her shoulders square and her gaze unwavering.

“Dolcezza.”

She shakes her head once, her gaze focused on mine and nowhere else. “I’ll be okay,” she whispers.

My lips twitch. “I know you will. See you soon?”

She lifts her chin. “As soon as possible,” she breathes.

Turning around, I allow the bailiff to take me away. I don’t look back. It shows weakness, and I don’t need anyone to think I’m fucking weak. My wife is crying, but she’s going to be just fine. I have more protection in place for her than she could ever need.

ONE MONTH LATER

Gavino makes his way toward my table. Standing, I extend my hand to shake his. He dips his chin and we both sit down across from one another.

“How are you doin’ in here?” he asks, his eyes roaming over my face.

“Aside from the shit food, the shit company, and the other organizations surrounding me? I’m doing just fucking dandy,” I snap.

He dips his chin. “Yeah, I figured as much. Wanted to let you know that Roman’s place is taken care of.”

“Good. Pippa?” I ask, getting to the most important thing.

Gavino smirks. “You haven’t called her?”

Jerking my chin, I lift my hand, running my fingers through my hair. “I haven’t. The phone, fuck, I’m not good over the phone.”

“I know it’s not the same, but when Luciana was away, all we had was the phone for months. Hearing her voice, gauging her moods, staying present for her, she needs that.”

“Does she? Married for less than a week before I left, Vino,” I point out.

He smiles, shaking his head. “She needs you, Massimo. Don’t be