Chapter 5 LORETTA

I slammed the car door shut, my anger and frustration boiling over. The dimly lit alleyway reeked of alcohol and cigarettes, but I couldn't care less as I kept walking, ignoring the wasted couple making out by the corner. I stormed into Matteo's dingy bar, the neon sign creaking loudly.

As I walked in, a bell above the door ran out, and the sounds of raucous laughter and clinking glasses enveloped me. Ignoring the guy trying to talk to me, I headed straight for the back room.

"I'm here to see Matteo." I said to the guard who was standing by the entrance. "I don't know if you're new, but I normally don't need this much bullshit when I come here."

He grunted a reply, and moved to the side, letting me pass. The room was just as it always was whenever I came here; filled with a smoky haze, and beneath all of that were some people counting money, some packing drugs, and some just unashamedly fucking each other.

Matteo sat atop a worn leather bound chair, with a stripper on his laps, who giggled at whatever he was saying. He looked like some scrawny unkept monarch.

I marched towards him, my heels clicking on the sticking floor. "Matteo." I called out, my tone laced with anger.

His gaze flicked up, a sly smirk spreading across his face. "Well, well, well. If it isn't the bride. You all should give a round of applause to congratulate our bride, marrying a big shot like Damian Reinhart."

At first there was silence, and then there was a round of applause, whistles, and laughter.

"Cut the shit, Matteo." I said once it all died down.

His eyes drifted to the bag in my hand, and his smirk widened. "Is it already pay day? I almost forgot."

"What did you do to my father?"

Matteo's amused expression never wavered. "I heard about your father's death, my condolences."

My jaw tightened, my anger simmering just below the surface. "Don't make me fucking ask you again! I told you I would fucking pay you all the money he owed you Matteo, and you promised nothing would happen to him!"

He held up his hands, his expression not giving anything away. "And I did keep my word. I didn't have anything to do with your father's death, Lauretta. The guy who I sent to watch him in there didn't know what happened either. It all happened in the middle of the night. A classic shadowed kill."

I narrowed my eyes, still no buying his words. "You are sure that you had nothing to do with his death."

He kissed his first two fingers then rose it up to the sky. "I swear on my Nana's life."

I slid the bag over to him. "That's twenty for this month."

He pushed the stripper off his laps and picked up the bag. He unzipped it, and peeked inside. "Nothing makes me more happier than some greens." He said, showing off his gold plaited teeth.

"Can you find out who did it? Who killed my father?"

His smile widened. "They don't call me Matteo of the undercity for nothing."

I rolled my eyes. "Is that a yes, or a no?"

He chuckled, the sound low and menacing. "It's a yes, but it's gonna cost...."

I tossed a bundle of cash at him. "Find me a name, Matteo, and fast."

He picked it up, sniffing it loudly before tucking it in his pocket. "Yes, my lady."

Shaking my head in disgust, I walked out. If I find out who killed my father, then I'm going to make sure the pay equally, no matter who they were.

****

After spending the day covering up my father's loose ends, I headed home to drink. It was the one thing I could consume without wanting to empty my gut on the floor.

When I got home, I immediately took off my shoes, and picked the first bottle I could reach. It was the only good thing about this house, the endless wine collections. I sat down on the floor in the veranda and stared at the city that laid before me. I was truly alone now. No parents, No friends, No family. A nagging thought kept telling me to go back to Miami, where I had spent my childhood with a real family, before my father let money and greed consume him. I sometimes could hear my mother's giggles being carried by the wind, haunting me.

I didn't know how long I sat there drinking, but I knew I was halfway through the bottle, and all that clouded my mind was still my father's death.

'Your father is dead. They say it's suicide.'

"Suicide." I scoffed, taking another sip of my wine. I knew my father well enough to know death was the last thing on his mind. This marriage was supposed to get him out, and now he was gone. What was the point of all of this now? I hardly even saw the man that I'm supposedly married to. Even though we slept in separate rooms, it wasn't supposed to be this hard. He was gone by morning when I was still asleep, and returned back late, also when I was asleep. He was clearly avoiding me.

The investigation on the company was also another thorn to my side, and I couldn't really do much, but sit in this ridiculous apartment and wait for the news for when it was all over.

"It's cold out." A voice said, slicing through my thoughts. "You shouldn't stay out drinking."

I placed the glass down, and turned around to look at the man that had been nothing but a ghost these past few days. He was dressed all corporate, a white shirt, a lose tie, his suit jacket slung over his shoulder, and a brief case.

"What I do with my evenings are none of your business." I replied, my tone clipped.

His eyes narrowed. "It should be, you're my wife."

"Oh please, don't pull that card with me. You and I know why we both got into this marriage, except my reason is suddenly dead."

His expression softened as he sighed. "I'm sorry about your father."

I cleared my throat, picking up my wine glass again. "I don't need your pity."

"I'm not pitying you, I'm just..." He combed his hair back with his fingers. "I hired someone to help look into his death. So far, there's nothing. You know, maybe your father..."

"Did not kill himself." I said, my grip tightening on the glass. "Someone killed him, and I'm good to find out who."

He let out a sigh. "Get some rest. I'll make sure to keep checking."

"Don't tell me what to do." I replied, my tone icy.

"I'm not telling you what to do. I'm just trying to help you. You should at least pretend to be grateful."

I took a sip of my wine, my eyes never leaving his. "You think you're helping me? You think you're doing me a favor?" I scoffed,my voice rising. "I'm not one of those people under you, you can't control me."

I stood up, my movements a bit unsteady, but I refused to show weakness. I walked towards him, my eyes blazing with anger.

"You're just like all the others, thinking you can do whatever you want, thinking you can keep me quiet."

He shook his head and sighed. "I'm not trying to control you."

I poked my finger into his chest, my voice dropping to a whisper. "But I'm not going to keep quiet. I'm going to find out who killed my father, and I'm going to make them pay."

His eyes narrowed, and his jaw clenched. "Lauretta, stop. You're drunk."

"I'm not drunk." I gritted through my teeth, even though I doubted it a little.

And my doubts were right, because the room began to spin, and my legs gave way beneath me, causing me to stumble foward.

But he caught me, his arms wrapping around me, holding me upright. "I told you, you were drunk."

I looked up at him, my vision blurry, but for a moment, I thought I saw something there, something that almost looked like concern.

"Shut up.." I managed to slur out before everything went back.