My Stepbrother's Dirty Little Secret novel Chapter 13

I didn't want to be here. I didn't want to drink their coffee or sit at their table. I’d thought I had time to figure something out before my mother moved in with the Capones. Now that time was gone and I had no idea what to do next.

Salvatore looked at me, "Would you like some breakfast, Gianna? I can ask the chef to make you anything you want."

"No, thank you," I said, standing up and reaching for my bag, "I’m not hungry. If I don't leave right now, I’m going to miss my bus."

Then Don Vincenzo set his fork down, and looked directly at me, "You don't need to take the bus. We have a dozen cars and drivers standing by. One of them will take you wherever you need to go. It’s safer and faster."

"I'm fine with the bus," I said, as I gripped the strap of my backpack until my knuckles turned white.

"Gianna, don't be difficult," my mother pleaded, giving me a look that told me I was embarrassing her, "It’s a long walk to the stop from here. Just let them drive you."

"I’ve been taking the bus for three years, Mom. I think I can handle one more day," I replied. I looked at Vincenzo and Salvatore, my chin lifted, "I don't need a driver. I don't need a car. I like my routine, and I like taking care of myself. I’m not changing how I live just because the scenery changed."

I wasn't going to let them buy my comfort. I wasn't going to become another person in this house who relied on the Capones for every little thing.

I was self-sufficient, and I intended to stay that way.

"The bus is public, slow, and full of people we don't know," Adriano Capone said, his voice dropping an octave. He leaned forward, his large hands intertwined on the table, "The second you step out of this house, you’re a target. If anyone tied to this family stands alone on a street corner... they end up in the trunk of a car or at the bottom of the river. We have enemies who have been waiting years for a weak spot. Last night you were a stranger. This morning, your face is on every hit list in Chicago."

Vincenzo nodded, "We don't ask you to take a driver because we want to be nice. We do it because we don’t feel like cleaning your blood off the sidewalk this afternoon. I’m pretty sure your mother would hate to see you in a body bag."

I looked at my mother, but she just looked away, staring at her coffee. They weren't just trying to control us, they were trying to scare me in a way that felt like a chokehold.

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