by S. J. Tilly
Stepping into the great room, I beeline for my purse. I want to be long gone before Annie’s door opens again.
“Oh! Good morning.”
The feminine voice has me stopping in my tracks. I close my eyes and take a breath to steady my already frazzled nerves before opening them and turning slowly. Ten feet away, I find Vincent’s mother, the infamous Marie Mazzanti, standing in the kitchen.
“Good morning.” I whisper, glancing back down the hall.
Vincent will for sure blow a gasket if he finds me talking to his mom.
“Would you like a cup of coffee, dear? I was just about to make a pot.” Marie asks with a smile.
I take a second to wonder how such a seemingly nice woman raised such a devil of a man, before shaking my head. “No, I shouldn’t.” When her eyes narrow at my response, I tack on a quick, “Thank you.”
“Come now, I’m sure Vincent wouldn’t mind if you stayed for some breakfast.”
What’s meant to come out as a scoff, ends up sounding more like a choked cry. I pinch my lips shut, mortified by the sound, but the look on her face tells me she heard my emotions loud and clear.
“I’m sorry.” I whisper, not sure what I’m apologizing for.
Not waiting for a reply, I grab my purse and nearly run to the door. Slipping my shoes on, I let myself out. Not wanting to draw attention to my escape, I quietly close the door behind me as I leave the apartment.
He would have no reason to, but just knowing that Vincent has the ability to pull up security footage, has me making it all the way through the lobby, and out onto the street, before I let my emotions get the better of me.
At this point, I don’t know who I’m more upset with. Vincent for being a jerk, or me for being a fool. Add on the embarrassment of seeing his mother during my literal walk of shame leaves me wanting to scream.
Needing the fresh air, I decide to walk a few blocks before catching a Lyft back to my place.
Nearing the first crosswalk, I get that prickle of awareness on the back of my neck. It’s what my brother would call his sixth sense. The one that tells you when you’re being watched. Taking a quick pause, I look back over my shoulder. It’s early on a Saturday morning, so there aren’t many people out. But the few I see don’t look familiar. I don’t know why I was expecting to see Angelo or one of his goons, but they aren’t there. Not a single person is looking my way.
“Get it together, Sasha.” I mumble to myself, before I continue my panty-less walk home.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
VINCENT
I swear, somedays she’s 11 going on 25. But then there are times like this, when she doesn’t feel well and all she wants is me tucking her into bed, and she feels like a little girl again. It’s always an emotional whiplash, but I feel more off kilter today than I usually do during these moments.
With a final look at Annie’s sleeping form, I turn off the lamp and slip out of her room.
Standing in the hallway, I glance at my bedroom door. I know Sasha’s gone. I heard her when she walked past Annie’s door. Which was only possible because while Annie was in her en-suite bathroom I was standing with my ear pressed to the door like the jackass that I am.
I heave out a breath. This morning could not have gone worse. First, I had that fucking dream. It’s another memory that I’m well-acquainted with, but no matter how many times I relive the nightmare, I still wake up rattled. Along with scaring the shit out of me, the dream always reminds that Annie’s the most important thing in my life. And how - with one mistake, one unlocked door - she could be taken from me.
So, when Sasha shook me awake, I was already in a dark mood. Then my mind had to catch up to the fact that I was waking up with Sasha in my bed. I wasn’t lying when I told her I didn’t bring women here. I’ve never had sex in that bed before last night. Not that what we did was as simple as sex. It was more. Which only added to my fucked-up state of mind.
And, to top it all off, I wake up - post-kidnap dream - with a woman in my bed, only to hear my mom and daughter inside the apartment. It was too much. I lost it. I lost the tether on my sanity. And I took out my anger and fear and worry on the only person around.
My chest aches. I never should have said those things to her. It wasn’t a lie, but the way I said it was all wrong. It was hurtful and mean and uncalled for. Rubbing my hands over my face I curse under my breath. She’ll really hate me this time.
Rounding the corner into the kitchen I see that my mom’s ready with her trademark scowl. It’s the one that says you’re an idiot.
“Did you make extra coffee?” I ask, hoping we can skip right past what I’m sure is coming next.
“There’s plenty of coffee," she replies. Tone flat. “I offered some to that beautiful young woman, but she seemed to think that you would disapprove of her staying for breakfast.”
“Look mom, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to have her stay over. It won’t happen again.”
Her eyes narrow even more. “It should.”
My steps slow. “What?”
At my confusion, her face softens. “Vincent, honey... you need to let someone in. I worry about you. I know you think you’re doing Annie some sort of favor by staying single, but you need to have a life too. Annie needs to see you having a normal relationship.”
I sigh. We’ve had this discussion before. “Mom…”
She cuts me off. “Sasha seems like a nice girl. She’s smart and kind, and if she can put up with your shit on a daily basis then you should keep seeing her.”
“Just how much did you two say to each other?”
“I recognized her from yesterday. I spoke with her boss at length, who only had good things to say about her.” Mom explains before getting a sad look over her face. “Yesterday she looked like a confident businesswoman, but - this morning - the poor thing hardly raised her voice above a whisper. It was like she was terrified of getting caught. Not by me, but by you. I don’t know what you said to her before you came storming out here, but you hurt that girl. She was trying to hide it, but it was plain as day that she’d been crying. If you care about her, even a little, you need to apologize.”
I feel the chain around my heart tighten. Mad I can handle, but if I made her cry…
I drop my chin, gaze on the ground. “I’ve already fucked up so many times with her. I should probably just leave her alone.”
Mom puts her hand on my forearm. “If you care about her, apologize. Then learn from your mistakes. If she cares about you in return, she’ll forgive you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
SASHA
“H
ello.” I say over a mouthful of food.
“Classy, sis.” John chuckles into the phone. “Did I catch you eating dinner?”
I glance down at the bowl of popcorn in my lap, and then over to the clock showing me it’s just after 8:30 pm.
“Yeah.” I shrug to myself, let’s call this dinner.
“So, how’d the press conference with your boy toy go?”
Just like that, the buttery snack turns sour in my mouth. I’ve been spending the day doing every household chore I could think of, in an attempt to forget Vincent and the way he treated me this morning. My apartment is spotless, but my feelings are still a little too ragged.
“It was fine.” I try to muster a casual tone.
“What happened?”
“Nothing happened. It was fine. It was great.” Even I don’t believe my words in their obvious lack of enthusiasm.
John doesn’t let up. “What did that prick do? You’re not still seeing him, are you?”
“John, I really don’t want to talk about this right now.”
“So he did do something.” He huffs. “What is it about men like him that make smart women so stupid.”
I clench my teeth. “John, I don’t…” A knock at the door stops me from saying something that would probably be meaner than he deserves. “I gotta go.”
Having heard the knock, he goes s
traight into detective mode. “Are you expecting someone?”
“Bye, Special Agent.” I hang up without answering his question.
Captain watches me from his perch in the window as I walk across my living room to the front door.
I’m not expecting anyone, and no one buzzed up so I’m guessing it’s just one of my neighbors asking for a favor. I glance down at my wardrobe. I’m wearing my comfiest black yoga pants and one of my brother’s old FBI hoodies. I figure I’m dressed enough. The sweatshirt is baggy, so I don’t think you can tell that I don’t have a bra on. My hair is pulled up in a messy bun and my bare feet and lack of makeup complete my exciting Saturday Night Look. Whatever. If my neighbors expect better than this, that’s on them, not me.
I flip the locks and turn the handle. I get the door open about a foot before my eyes focus on the face in front of my door. Vincent’s face. Vincent. Standing in the hallway outside my apartment door.
I slam the door shut.
What the fuck. What the fuck! Why is he here? How did he even get into the building?
He knocks again. “Sasha, please open the door.”
Hearing his voice brings back all of my anger and humiliation from this morning.
I match his calm tone. “Vincent, please go fuck yourself.”
A quiet squeak of sound catches my attention. It wasn’t male. And it wasn’t adult.
Against my better judgement, I jerk the door all the way open and see that Vincent isn’t alone.
“Annie?” Her name comes out as a question before I turn my attention back to the Devil. “What’s wrong?”
I know he wouldn’t bring her to me unless he had to.
“Can we come in?” He asks, dragging a hand through his hair.
I hesitate for only a second before I step back and usher them inside. I’d gladly leave his ass in the hallway all night, but I won’t punish the daughter for her father’s crimes.
As the shock of seeing Vincent here starts to settle, I really take him in. His dark hair is mussed. Even through his jeans and black t-shirt I can tell that his muscles look taut. And he looks a shade paler than healthy. And despite being a huge asshole, he looks hot as hell even while looking like shit.
“Thank you.” Vincent’s voice is nearly timid. Nearly. “I need your help.”
I glance down at Annie, but she’s looking at the floor. Arms crossed. Using the toe of her pink sneaker to kick at the corner of my rug.
Vincent places a hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “Annie, will you wait in the kitchen while I talk to Sasha?”
Annie glares up at her dad before rolling her eyes. I want to roll my eyes right along with her. This isn’t Vincent’s several thousand square foot penthouse. This is a nice-but-average two-bedroom apartment. We’re standing by the door, but we’re also standing in the kitchen. And the living room. And the dining room. If you can count the table pushed against the far wall covered in a half-finished puzzle a dining room.
Annie shuffles a dozen feet over to the kitchen where she leans against the island.
Vincent watches her while biting his lip. I’ve never seen him look so unsure of himself. Part of me wants to bask in this. Watch him suffer. But another part wants to reach out and comfort him. I want to slap that part of me.
“Vincent.” I speak to him in a near whisper. “What are you doing here?”
He sighs and steps closer to me, angling his back to Annie, giving us a small amount of privacy. He’s inches away and I have to tilt my head back to see his face. Sometimes I forget just how tall he is.
He sighs again. “Annie just got her period. For the first time.”
The distressed look on his face suddenly makes so much sense. Only a man would treat a period like it’s a national disaster. I have to bite down on my lip to keep from laughing. If Annie weren’t in the room with us, I probably wouldn’t have resisted the urge.
“Vincent.” I wait until he makes eye contact with me. “That’s natural at her age. It’s a normal thing to happen. Why did you bring her here?”
“I just… My mom is gone. She left this afternoon for a long weekend with her sister in Florida. She’d come home if I asked her, but Annie won’t let me call, claiming it will ruin Grandma’s trip.”
He holds my gaze and all I can do is raise my eyebrows.
Vincent reaches out and lightly grips my upper arm. I can’t help the way I tense at his touch, and he doesn’t miss it, immediately dropping his hands. “I’m sorry. I was an asshole. I know I shouldn’t be here bothering you, but I need your help. You can go back to hating me after this if you want. But you’re the only woman I know who can help. Annie has a few good friends, but I don’t know any of their mothers well. You’re the only one that I trust.”
I cross my arms and close my eyes. One breath. Two. A third.
I’m so mad at him. He made me feel like trash this morning. Like I didn’t matter. And now he thinks he can waltz in here, with his beautiful daughter, and tell me that I’m the only woman he can trust. How dare he. I want to yell at him. And punch him. And yell some more. But he’s right. I can go back to despising him tomorrow.
I shake my head and open my eyes. “Fine.”
Vincent’s shoulders slump and his head dips. “Thank you, Sasha. Thank you.”
I ignore his words and step around him heading for my phone where I left it on the couch. Captain jumps down from the windowsill, apparently deeming it safe now. He likes people, but usually sits back watching the first few minutes when new guests arrive.
“Can I pet him?” Annie asks in a quiet voice as she walks towards the cat.
“Absolutely. His name is Captain.” I tell her with a smile. “He’s a giant pussy cat and will love you forever if you give him even just a little bit of attention.”
Annie crouches down and Captain rubs his large gray body against her knees. She cautiously reaches her hand out, stroking gently down his back. I can hear him purring from here.
I do a quick google search and take a handful of screenshots then text them to Vincent. His phone pings.
“Take your phone out,” I tell him, my voice losing all the warmth I gave Annie.
He does as I ask, and I watch as his brow wrinkles while he looks through the images. While he’s looking at his screen, I text him another command.
Me: Also get her a pair of regular underwear.
I don’t want to say that out loud and embarrass the poor girl. But I don’t know if what she’s wearing is still clean, or if she wears thongs, but neither Mazzanti is carrying a bag. Meaning they came here with nothing but the clothes on their backs.
“Don’t you have this stuff here?” Vincent asks me.
I give him my best you're an idiot look. “I only have tampons. That’s not exactly an appropriate introduction for a girl who just got her first period. And I swear to god, if you try to mansplain menstruation to me, I’m going to punch you in the ear.”
I think I hear Annie snicker.
“Okay.” Vincent nods. “Okay.”
“Go.” I put my hand on his chest and push him back towards the door.
Vincent looks over the top of my head to where Annie is still petting the cat. “Annie, are you going to be okay if…”
Annie cuts him off. “Oh my god, dad. Just go.”
“Alright, I’m going.” Vincent throws his hands up. “I’ll be right back, and I’ll have my phone on me the whole time.”
I follow him to the door and hand him my key, “I don’t know how you got up here, but use this to let yourself back in.”
“Thank you. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.” He sounds sincere, and that’s almost harder to deal with after the way he was earlier.
When he steps out into the hallway, I follow him, holding the door mostly closed behind me.
I drop my voice to a whisper, but I’m sure my eyes convey just how mad I am. “Don’t thank me. That poor girl needs someone who knows what they’re doing and that’s why I’m a
llowing you to be here. Don’t you dare confuse my compassion for Annie as forgiveness for you. I’m doing this for her.” I swallow down my growing anger. “I can’t take any more of your push-and-pull act. You crossed the line this morning. I’ve never felt more used or humiliated in my life. I’m not even surprised that there are no other women in your life besides your mother. I must be a special brand of desperate to keep letting you back into my heart. But that’s done.” Vincent opens his mouth to reply, but I jab him in the chest with my pointer finger. “Don’t. Just... don’t.”
I leave him there, and step back into my apartment. I didn’t mean to use the word heart. Not out loud.
Locking the door, I shake off my rant and focus on my next task. “Alright, Annie. Follow me.”
My apartment has one main room, then opposite the front door is a hallway with two bedrooms and one bathroom. The first door we pass is my guest room/office space. John is pretty much the only person who stays over, but I like having a spot for him when he visits. The next door is the bathroom. I only have one, but it’s the whole reason I chose this apartment. It’s modern, has double vanities, lots of storage, and a fabulous walk-in shower.
Inside the bathroom, I open one of the cabinets and pull out a little basket. Annie is standing awkwardly in the doorway, so I motion her to come closer.
“Here.” I hand her the basket. “Smell these and pick out the one you like best.”
“What are these?” She asks, picking up one of the small cubes and lifting it to her nose.
“They’re shower bombs. Like bath bombs, but for the shower.” I shrug. “If I had a bathtub, I’d probably live in there.”
I see the side of her mouth turn up. “Yeah, I have a tub. I use it all the time.”
“Lucky duck.” I pick up the green one and sniff it. “I can never pick a favorite. It all depends on my mood. Which is why I have so many.”
