Shattered by Control: A Dark Mafia Romance by B. B. Hamel

Author:B. B. Hamel [Hamel, B. B.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-05-24T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

Mirella

Fynn works harder than I’ve ever seen over the next couple days. It’s like the meeting with Cillian only galvanized him even more.

What I feared the most doesn’t come to pass. I don’t get called into Casso’s study and tortured to death and nobody treats me like an outsider or a traitor. Karah’s still kind and outgoing and Elise takes an interest in me, inviting me to sit by the pool with her. Even Olivia seems to forget about her warning and joins us most afternoons in the shade near the water.

And if what’s bubbling up to the surface between me and Fynn bothers him at all or is on his mind, he doesn’t show it. He keeps his focus on improving, and bit by bit, I notice small changes, little improvements that suggest a massive leap it on the way.

On the morning of the meeting, in the car outside of the restaurant, Fynn leans back in the driver’s seat and stares at the outdoor seating, the manicured plants, the fancy wooden detailing around the windows and the massive oak door. He’s tense and worried, though he looks incredible in his slick black suit.

“I can do this,” he says quietly. “It’s eighteen steps. I counted last night with Casso. Eighteen steps from the kitchen to the table. I can do this.”

I bite my lip and say nothing. He hasn’t taken more than ten steps without help since I met him. That’s not to say he can’t pull this off—it’s totally possible he can swallow his pain for the time it takes to cross the room. Eighteen steps, all things considered, aren’t that many.

“It’ll prove nothing,” I say, unable to look at him right now. “I think you can do it too, but it’ll prove nothing.”

He doesn’t respond right away. He knows how I feel about this and rubbing his face in my disapproval won’t help anything, and yet I can’t stop myself. As a professional, I have to try to convince him to take it easy.

“I didn’t grow up in a house that taught me I could be anything,” he says quietly, almost so softly I have to lean closer to hear. “My father always said we could do great things, but only if we’re willing to sacrifice for it. People that succeed do so through hard work and sometimes luck. I was born with a lot of things, but never the belief that I’m invincible.”

“What do you have to prove?”

“That I can be more.” His hands tighten on the steering wheel. “It’s not about my injury anymore. It’s about proving to myself that I can be more than just—” He gestures at himself. “More than a gangster in a suit.”

“Eighteen steps won’t do that.”

“No, you’re right. Eighteen steps won’t fix whatever’s broken inside of me, but it’s a good start.” He nods to himself like he’s making up his mind. “The PBA will be here shortly. We’d better get into position.”

With that, he climbs out of the car. I watch him go, crossing the parking lot as quickly as he can, leaning heavily on his cane.

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