by LK Shaw
* * *
“Would you like some help?”
I glance up to find my mother at my door. Without waiting for an answer, she steps in and picks up one of the books piled on my chaise. I’ve been hastily packing my things before Giovanni returns.
“How many times have you read this one?” Her fingers caress the cover of my favorite story, a small smile on her face.
“I’ve lost track. Enough that I know it nearly by heart.” It’s a story about a woman who leaves behind her life of privilege to live in the country with the love of her life. She gives up everything, but in the end, receives the greatest reward.
She gently places it, along with the rest of the stack, in a box before sealing it. My gaze darts around my room taking in the few boxes and carrying cases I have. It’s hard to imagine that my entire life can fill so little space. I’ve never been into fashion, unlike other young women my age, so I don’t have a closet full of clothes or shoes. Despite all our money, I don’t think I’ve ever splurged on anything. There’s been nothing I’ve needed, really, beyond my books.
“Can I ask you a question?” My gaze lands on my hands in my lap, and on the modest diamond gracing my third finger, before I turn my eyes to meet my mother’s.
“Of course.” She pushes aside the box she’s just packed and settles on the chaise.
“What do you know about him?” Perhaps my fears can be alleviated somewhat if I knew something. I need a little peace of mind.
“Come.” She pats the spot next to her, and I rise from my position on the floor and take a seat. “He’s a little older than you, mid-thirties, I believe. An only child, although from what I’ve heard he’s close to his cousins. His mother is deceased. She died when he was younger, right before he swore his oath to the family.”
“But what about him? What is he like?” None of the information she shared really told me anything.
She sighs. “I don’t really know much. There are rumors, of course—stories. I know seven years ago his young cousin was kidnapped by the Russians. She was held for nearly a week before he was able to track them down and rescue her. He killed every single one of them, but not before torching several of their buildings. He left town shortly after that. It was said his father sent him to oversee one of their outfits in another city, but it’s purely speculation.”
Violence is a side of our family I’ve never been exposed to. I’ve seen my father and brothers come home covered in blood, but no one’s spoken of what they’d done to acquire it. I’ve always been afraid to ask. I can’t imagine how terrified his cousin must have been. To hear that he murdered those responsible sends a shiver through me. He sounds brutal, something I witnessed only a short time ago. Of course, as the son of the boss, he’s most likely had to be.
“Brenna,” Caitlín rushes in out of breath. “Gio is here.”
Gio? “Do you mean Giovanni?”
She merely shrugs. “He said Emilio sent him to pick up you and your stuff. Should I send him up?”
I glance at the clock to see he’s right on time. Considering who he works for, it doesn’t surprise me.
“No,” my mother says. “Caitlín, love, please go and get your brothers. They can take your sister’s things to the car. That way, we can all say goodbye.”
She disappears just as quickly as she arrived. Within a few minutes Jack, Paddy, and Nathan are filling up the room, picking up two items each and heading through the house. My mother, sister, and I follow behind. Da meets us in the living room. We stare at each other until I can’t take it anymore. I rush over and throw myself against his chest, wrapping my arms tightly around his waist. He envelops me in one of his bear hugs from my childhood. I’ve missed them so much.
“If he doesn’t treat you well, you let me know. I’ll straighten him out,” he whispers gruffly in my ear.
My laugh comes out choked. “I love you, Da.”
“I love you too, ceann beag.”
It’s been a long time since my father’s called me little one. I send him a watery smile.
My brothers traipse back inside empty-handed. Giovanni—Gio—stands in the entryway behind them. Waiting. I hug everyone, leaving my mother for last.
“Emilio said I can come over and swim once you guys are settled in,” Caitlín says after she releases me.
It shouldn’t surprise me that she knows whether my new home has a pool or not. I’m guessing she weaseled it out my husband. My sister has a way of getting any one to talk to her and tell her pretty much anything she wants. No doubt she corralled Emilio the minute he stepped inside for the wedding. She possesses a natural charm I’ve never had.
“I’m sure Mother would be happy to bring you over for a visit some time.”
“I told him he better keep you happy, otherwise he’d have to answer to me.” She stabs at her chest with a thumb.
“Caitlín,” my mother admonishes with pure exasperation while my brothers all chuckle, pride evident in their faces.
I snort because I have no doubt she did in fact threaten Emilio with some type of bodily harm. I imagine that went over well. “And what did he say to that?”
“He said you were lucky to have such a fierce warrior defending you.”
Gio clears his throat. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Ricci, but we need to go.”
Dread is a heavy weight inside my belly. Finally, I turn to my mother. There are tears in her eyes, but she’s doing her best to hold them back. My throat clogs. I can’t break down. Not yet anyway. My mother’s gardenia perfume, sugar, and her own special scent surrounds me the second she wraps her arms around me.
“I’m sorry, Mother,” I choke out.
She doesn’t ask for what. She doesn’t need to. “You’re stronger than you think, my love. You’re still a Donnelly, and we never give up.”
Her hold loosens, and she steps over to my father, who pulls her against him. With a final look at my family, I turn and follow Gio out to the car, spine straight and head held high. I settle into the back seat of the car, my eyes facing forward. The window separating me from the front is open. Any second, I’m going to break down, and I don’t want a witness to my misery. It’s going to be messy and ugly, and I’d rather save myself the embarrassment.
My gaze frantically darts around before finally landing on the button. I dive for it at the same time Gio gets behind the wheel. The first sob escapes before I get the window fully closed, but then the crack disappears and I’m alone in my heartache.
I’m not sure what I expect once I arrive at Emilio’s home. It certainly isn’t to be met by a beautiful, dark-haired woman who looks to be around my age. An unfamiliar emotion bubbles to the surface. Giovanni clears his throat behind me before I can ask her name. I jump and scramble out of the way as he brings my bags in.
“Where do these go?” he lifts his arms.
Panic rises. I stand awkwardly, not sure what to say, my gaze darting back and forth between him and the woman.
“Make a right at the top of the stairs, second door on the left.” Her voice is soft.
Giovanni passes her, and she backs up several steps placing distance between them. I blink at her skittish behavior. On his return trip, he eyes her, but she keeps her gaze downcast. He meets my stare. “I’ll be back in with the rest of your things.”
He sharply closes the door behind him leaving me alone with the woman I still don’t know. I can feel tears building behind my eyes, but I blink them away. I won’t let her see how affected I am.
“You must be Brenna. I’m Francesca.” She says the name as though I should know who she is.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Internally, I cringe at the tone that belies that statement.
She smiles with something like understanding. “You don’t know who I am, do you?”
I shake my head. “I’m sorry. I thought Emilio would be meeting me here. He didn’t say anything about a woman.” I was proud of how strong my voice sounded.
Francesca raises her eyes heavenw
ard for several seconds as though addressing someone above before looking back at me. “I’m Jacob’s—Emilio’s—cousin. Pierce is my brother. I can’t begin to imagine what you thought, seeing me as soon as you walked through the door, especially immediately following your wedding. I’ll be sure to give my cousin a piece of my mind for being so rude. I’m sorry you weren’t informed.”
One more thing no one bothered to tell me. But her words only make my anxiety worse, despite my relief upon learning who she is. “Please don’t say anything. I’m sure it was nothing more than oversight. It really is a pleasure to meet you.” I clear my throat and glance around. “Will you be living here as well?”
Francesca laughs. “Goodness, no. I live with Pierce, but Jacob asked me to be here to greet you so you weren’t alone on your first day in your new home. He had some business to attend to and won’t be back until later this evening. Of course, I thought he’d notified you of the fact.”
“That was generous of him.” Mixed emotions course through me. The fact that he is thoughtful enough to have someone here so I’m not alone, and trepidation that this…place is where I’m going to be living. I swallow back the uncertainty. Be a good wife. Whatever that means. Something else she’s said floats back to me.
“Jacob? Is that what everyone calls him?” Having to ask such a stupid question fills me with embarrassment. As his wife, this is something I should have known, isn’t it?
Francesca shakes her head. “Only Pierce and me. Well, Aunt Rosalie used to, before she died. I’ve never heard anyone else outside the two of us call him that. Not even his father. Then again, they were never as close as Jacob and his mom were.”
Giovanni pushes the door open and walks in carrying one of my boxes of things interrupting the uncomfortable silence. Francesca flinches slightly and takes a small step back.
“May I help?” I offer, mostly because I’m terrible at small talk and I don’t know what I should say to her.
He stares at me like I just asked him to strip naked. “No, Mrs. Ricci, I’ll take care of it. Does this go in the same room?”
I blink at the name. “Yes, please,” I answer although I have no idea. I’ll figure out where things go later.
Once he disappears upstairs again, I have no choice but to turn back to Francesca. I smooth my hands down my pants and stretch out my fingers. If she’s Emil—Jacob’s—cousin, then that makes her my family as well. My head swivels around to take in my new home. It’s lovely, but also almost sterile feeling. There’s no color. The granite countertops and cabinets are white. The couch and matching chair—white. Lamps—white. No pop of color. No family pictures. I can only imagine it’s the same upstairs.
“I apologize that I haven’t been a very good hostess. Would you like to have a seat? I’m not sure if there’s anything to offer, but can I get you something to drink?” I gesture to the couch.
“No, I’m fine thank you.” She sits, and I lower myself onto the chair. “There are a few things in the fridge that I brought over, because if Jacob is anything like Pierce then he wouldn’t have thought to stock it. Of course, I was right.” She rolls her eyes.
I ignore Giovanni coming down the stairs, but Francesca’s gaze flashes to him as he walks passed us and out the door again. She quickly looks away.
“Thank you so much. You didn’t need to do that.”
She smiles genuinely. “We’re family now, which means we take care of each other. I can’t imagine how nervous you probably are. I would be as well if I were in your position. Married to a stranger in some sort of power play. If it’s any consolation, Jacob protects what’s his.”
His. As though I’m a piece of property.
I study my hands in my lap. It would be nice to have someone to talk to, and if my husband is going to be gone often, I have a feeling I’m going to be lonely. While I love Caitlín, I’ve never had another girlfriend my age who knows what our life is like. Hopefully, she and I can become friends. I also would like to ask questions about my—Jacob. Giovanni comes and goes twice more bringing the last boxes inside and delivering them upstairs.
Gathering my courage, I blurt out a question. “What can you tell me about…Jacob?” His name across my lips feels strange. “My mother said he recently returned to Brooklyn after being gone for seven years. Where was he?”
I have never heard of the son of the boss of the entire organization being able to leave. In our family, that’s tantamount to betrayal. I’ve heard stories of some of Grand-da’s men being killed after they attempted to quit.
A flash of pain and fear flares in Francesca’s eyes. “He and Pierce were living in North Carolina, of all places.”
“Do you know why he left?”
She flinches, and guilt floods me. I’m going behind my husband’s back asking questions about him. Something tells me he wouldn’t appreciate my inquiries. It’s too late to turn back now.
“Francesca.”
I gasp and we both pivot at the voice coming from across the room. Standing in the doorway is my husband, Pierce behind him. They’re both wearing fierce expressions, but I only have eyes for the man in front. She clears her throat and rises. “I should get going. It was really nice to meet you.”
“You as well. Thank you for welcoming me.” I stand to face my husband, while Francesca moves around me and heads toward the door. He sends her a small smile, and my breath hitches. He has dimples. She and Pierce close the door behind them leaving me alone for the first time with my husband. With Jacob.
We stand there, silent, staring at each other. I try not to fidget under his weighty glare. His expression is otherwise blank. The silence is suffocating. “I thought you had business to take care of.”
He moves across the room and heads into the dining area where a small wet bar has been built against the back wall. He flips over a rocks glass from the short stack and pours himself a drink. He glances back. I’m still standing where he left me.
“Would you like one?”
I swallow and nod. I’ve never had straight liquor before. A few mixed drinks or a beer here and there, but nothing like this. He pours another and then strides over to me, holding the glass out. I take it from him and our fingers brush. A small jolt causes me to jerk, nearly dropping it in the process. He raises an eyebrow and smirks, as though he knows the affect he has.
He gestures toward the seat I recently vacated. He sits in the other chair and crosses his ankle over his knee, leaning back, before taking a small sip of his drink. I follow suit. Fire burns my throat and tears spring to my eyes as I cough and choke. Finally, I swallow it all down, fighting embarrassment. “This stuff is positively disgusting.”
My husband barks out a laugh. “It’s an acquired taste.”
I push back the shudder. “Yes, well.” I’ve come this far. Holding my breath, I take an even smaller swallow than the first, and while the burn is still present, I manage to hold back the tears this time. I’m determined to drink the whole thing, even if it kills. It’s as though I’m trying to prove something. Perhaps to convince myself how brave I am.
“Did you and Francesca have an enjoyable visit?” There’s a curious tone to his question.
“Yes. She seems very nice.”
“I’m glad you seem to have gotten along.” He takes another drink.
I clasp the glass between my hands and stare down into it. My husband has an air of relaxation around him, while I’m tense and anxious. Is it always going to be like this between us? I look up to see him studying me. There’s a gleam of amusement in his eye.
“You didn’t let Francesca answer my question.” Did he expect me to forget?
His expression goes blank, and the glass hovers at his lips before he lowers it. “You’re referring to why I left?”
“Yes,” I straighten in my chair and wait.
“The why isn’t important. I’m back, and that’s all you need to know.”
I frown. Only married a few hours and there are already secrets between us. I
’m not sure why I keep expecting more out of this marriage. Like Francesca said, it is a power play for our families. Something to show our enemies who controls Brooklyn. It’s time I remember that. I’m nothing more than a pawn.
Chapter 9
Jacob
* * *
This new wife of mine is a contradiction. During the wedding, Brenna had been fearful. It had been in the trembling fingers beneath mine. Yet the courage she displayed staring me down as she took the pen from my hand to sign her name had parts of me sitting up and paying attention. Seeing her here, shoulders straight and tall, the bravado continues.
Brenna takes another sip of her whisky and barely controls her flinch of distaste. I bite back a smile and study her. Hair that had been pulled up in some fancy design now lays in waves around her shoulders. The sunlight pours through the window, dancing off it and giving it the color of fire with various shades of red and orange. I’m curious if her temperament matches.
Pierce is wrong. She’s not just pretty.
Shaking off the thought, I rise from my seat and pluck the glass from her hands. I want her sober tonight.
“I was drinking that,” she growls.
“You and I both know you were only drinking it to prove something.”
Brenna pouts, and suddenly, I want to kiss those full pink lips. She must see something on my face, because her cheeks flush and she quickly glances away. Breaking the spell, I clear my throat. “Did Giovanni bring your stuff in?”
She swallows. “Yes. Francesca told him to take it upstairs, but I haven’t been up there yet, so I’m not sure where exactly he put everything. I should probably start unpacking.”
“First, why don’t we take a tour. You can worry about your things later.”
“All right.” Brenna rises from the chair and swipes her hands on her thighs.
Once I’ve shown her around the building, we return to the townhome and I lead the way upstairs. “This is our room.”
Brenna steps inside and glances around nervously. It would seem the uncertainty has returned. “It’s lovely.”
