Burned Dreams (Perfectly Imperfect #7)

When we reach my mom’s apartment, Alessandro takes his spot by the door as usual, and I head to the kitchen where Mamma is preparing lunch.

“You’re later than usual,” she whispers while reaching for an onion. “Did something happen?”

“Rocco got shot.”

“Is he dead?”

“No. He’s in the hospital.” I pull some carrots out of a bag and start peeling one. “How much did you get for the bracelet?”

“Eight grand.”

Shit. I’d hoped for at least ten. “I’ll see if I have a necklace that’s not too distinctive and bring it next time.”

“What if Rocco notices?”

“I’ll just say I lost it.”

My mom throws a quick look at Alessandro, who seems extremely interested in the window on the opposite wall, then focuses back on the onion she’s chopping. “And where will we go when we’ve got enough money?”

“As far as possible.”

“He’ll come after us, Ravi. You know that.”

I close my eyes for a second. Lying to my mom is the last thing I want to do, but she would never agree if she learns the truth.

I knew from the start that escaping my husband would be nearly impossible. He has the funds and connections to find me no matter where I go, so I’ve decided that I won’t be staying with Mamma and Vitto. I’ll get them settled somewhere far from New York, with enough money to last them for a few months, and leave. I’m the one Rocco will be searching for, and I won’t let my family become the collateral damage. He’ll probably kill me when he catches up with me. No one crosses Rocco Pisano and lives to talk about it.

“We’ll figure something out when the time comes,” I say. “Where’s Vitto?”

“Still sleeping. He went out with his friends last night and came back this morning.”

“What friends?”

She just shrugs, avoiding eye contact.

“Mamma?”

“I made him promise me this was the last time. He won’t do it again.”

“He went with Ugo?” I screech. “Darn, Mamma. Did they go to that bar to play cards again?”

“He said they just went to watch. He doesn’t play cards anymore.”

“And you believed him?” I throw the half-peeled carrot on the counter and march through the living room to my brother’s bedroom.

Vitto is sprawled across the bed, still in his jeans and hoodie. The curtains are pulled over the window, barring the outside light. I flip a switch, turning on the lamp on the right, and step over a pair of sweatpants on the floor, reaching for the black backpack on his desk.

“Yo, Ma?” Vitto grumbles sleepily. “Turn off that lamp.”

I open the backpack and empty the contents onto his desk. A half-full bottle of soda. Empty snack bag. Earbuds. Some change. More trash. And a bundle of money.

“What the fuck is this, Vitto?” I yell.

“Ravi?” He sits up and squints at me. “What are you—”

“Explain!”

He looks at the cash in my hand and leaps off the bed, grabbing my arm. “That’s mine. Give that back!”