by RC Boldt
Manny’s serving his abbreviated five-year sentence in solitary confinement since word tends to spread quickly amongst the inmates about those who “snitch” to authorities. I requested contact visitation because I need to speak with him without a glass partition separating us—to find out if he knows the truth.
Ushered to the small table where I’m seated, the instant he lays eyes on me, I know the answer. It’s in the slight crinkling of his eyes and the softening of his expression. The way his gaze sweeps over me as if he’s committing the sight to memory.
“Olivia. It’s good to see you.”
I study him intently for a moment before deciding to cut to the chase. “How long have you known that I’m…Johanna’s daughter?”
His features grow tense, wary. “Not until the day we met.” He hesitates. “The moment I laid eyes on you, I knew. You have her features, but…” Tipping his head to the side, he surveys me. “But you have mine, too.”
“I thought for sure you would’ve mentioned it to Luca.”
A frown descends over his face. “No. I didn’t mention it because it wasn’t something I wanted to discuss before I had a chance to speak with you.”
It’s interesting how my years of studying criminal behavior could never have prepared me to encounter someone like Manny. A man who has participated in vast illegal activities yet still possesses compassion and a sense of honor.
“Did you love her?”
Averting his gaze, he exhales slowly before shaking his head. His tone is resigned, brimming with regret. “I once did. Long ago. But she never loved me.
“She was in love to the point of being obsessed with your—with Antonio. And when he made it clear he didn’t want to be with her any longer…” He trails off, allowing me to digest his words.
Voice dropping lower, remorse bleeds from it as he confesses, “I believe she really thought he’d be jealous enough to stay. And I was stupid to buy into the moment.
“I believe she drugged me that one night. I don’t recall much of what happened, but the next morning…” He shakes his head, traces of disgust etching his handsome features. “I knew, deep down, that she had pulled one of her stunts.
“When I learned she was pregnant, I never entertained the possibility that I could be the father.” He lowers his gaze briefly, lips pressing thin. “I know it was selfish, but her pregnancy was like a knife to my heart, and I distanced myself, unable to bear the fact that I had played a role in betraying my dearest friend.”
The edges of his mouth turn down. “Her not loving me was a blessing, because she didn’t care when I removed myself from the situation. I became like Switzerland, and she was too enraged over Antonio’s desire to leave to care about me. I was simply a pawn in Johanna’s game.
“That was the precursor for me trying to set change into motion. It’s been slow going, yes, I won’t deny that. Changing something like this is challenging when it’s all you know. But I knew I had to work at cultivating my other honest business endeavors. To ease away from the illegal activities over time.”
When his eyes cut to mine, they possess an intensity I’ve not witnessed from him before. “I’ve done some terrible things, Olivia, but I’ve been trying to change that. I want very much to get to know you. If you’ll allow it.” He presses his lips thin, eyes taking on a slight sheen. “Because of my mistakes, I never thought I’d have a family of my own.”
I reach out hesitantly and touch my fingertips to the back of his hand. “I’d like to get to know you, Manny.” Sliding my hand away, I swallow past the lump of emotion. “Although, from here on out, it’ll be restricted to phone calls.”
Curiosity lines his features. “I don’t mind. My five years in here will go by faster just knowing I’ll be able to talk with you.”
I forge on. “I’ll be in a different time zone soon. I’m taking a job in England.”
“Congratulations.” He smiles proudly, and for a moment, I imagine how he might’ve beamed when I graduated from college. My heart twists at the thought. “Is he going with you?”
“No.”
Manny’s expression turns sad with a touch of disappointment. “You haven’t told him.”
“I’m planning to.”
“Olivia, I may not be the smartest man”—he gestures with a hand to encompass our surroundings—“but I know he loves you.”
I avert my gaze and trace my finger along the edge of the table where the brown color is worn down to an off-white. My voice is hushed when I force out the words.
“A lasting relationship can’t be built on a broken foundation.” Lifting my eyes to meet his, I voice the painful admission. “I’m no good if I can’t set myself to rights.”
When faced with revelations that dismantle everything in your life, it’s far too easy for others to judge you and say you’re overreacting.
Perhaps everyone will think that of me, but I don’t give a shit. I’ve thought about this at length. The idea of going undercover again or even in a supporting role doesn’t evoke the slightest flicker of enthusiasm.
I’ve asked Thomasino not to mention my resignation to anyone. As I mentioned to Tim, I prefer to disappear from everyone’s radar with absolutely no fanfare.
I could speculate whether the universe played a role in putting me in a place to discover the truth. Regardless, one unequivocal fact is…I want a different life.
Finding out you’re made of darkness instead of light—evil instead of good—can mess with a person. I pride myself on being logical and levelheaded, but facing these revelations has knocked my entire world off its axis. It’s made me reexamine everything.
I want a life where I don’t have to hide who I am. I want a simple one, where the choices I make each day don’t keep me up at night. I’m not cut out for operations like this last one. I’m not willing to risk my life like that again, nor the life of the man I love.
This is where the core of my selfishness lies. Luca’s life is the DEA. But I don’t want that kind of life. And I refuse to ask him to choose between a career he loves and excels at and a woman he’s only known a short time.
Although I dread it and it instills a fear comparable to going in front of a firing squad, I need to speak to him face-to-face.
I call him during the time he normally takes a lunch break.
“Hey, Professor.” God, the slight raspiness of his voice, the affection-ladened tone, has my heart fracturing, knowing what’s to come.
“Hey.” My voice is subdued, hushed. “I wanted to see if we could meet later on tonight. Maybe around nine thirty?”
We’re both still lying low—him, especially—per our superiors’ requests because of the high-profile nature of the trial and the volatile reaction Santilla and the others had at their sentencing. I know that Luca’s wanted to see me after-hours, but we’ve been erring on the side of caution.
It’s clear he senses something peculiar in my voice because subdued wariness blankets his response. “Of course.” There’s a brief pause. “I’ll come to your place.”
A touch of a smile tugs at my lips because I don’t have to ask if he needs my address. “Come through the back patio door.” That way, he can avoid any possible detection.
After a slight pause, his voice drops to something low and husky. “I’ll see you tonight, baby.”
When nine thirty rolls around, my pulse races and my stomach churns.
The instant Luca steps past the threshold and pulls the door shut behind him, I let my eyes drink him in from where I sit at my small dining room table.
Dressed in faded jeans that fail to mask his powerful, muscled thighs, he wears a well-worn black cotton T-shirt that encases his firm chest, his biceps stretching the short sleeves.
I yearn to launch myself at him and ask him to hold me. To pretend that we’re the only people in this world and our worries don’t exist.
He scrubs a hand over his jawline, his scruff rasping against his palm, and eyes me from where he stands by the close
d door. “Jesus, Olivia. You’re scaring the shit outta me. What’s going on?”
“Sit with me. Please.”
Silently holding my gaze for a beat, he lowers himself into the chair to my right. His voice is a soft murmur as he rests his muscled forearms on the table. “Talk to me, baby.”
Baby. The endearment has an invisible fist tearing out my rib cage, reaching inside to clench my beating heart in its painful grip.
I draw in a fortifying breath before diving right in. “Manny’s my real father.”
“What?” Luca’s expression flits from confusion to disbelief to surprise and then concern. “How did you…?”
“It’s a long story, but it’s not entirely why I wanted to see you.”
I clench my hands together tightly, hating the pain that’s already begun leeching into my bloodstream.
“Look, I know it’s selfish as hell, but this has all been a shit show for me. First, finding out who my real mother is”—a harsh, humorless laugh escapes me—“and we all know she’s the devil incarnate. And now, I find out about my real father. Nearly everything I thought I knew has turned out to be a lie.”
“Olivia—”
I stop him with a hand. “Just…please let me finish.” He nods, and I search for the right words while knowing it’s an impossible feat. “I put in my resignation, and I’ve accepted another job.”
Pride floods his features. “That’s great, baby—”
“It’s in England.”
His mouth snaps shut, a myriad of emotions lining his features. Confusion. Fear. Pain. Anger.
“This operation opened my eyes in many ways. It’s shown me that I’m not cut out for anything remotely similar to it. I’m not willing to risk my life like that again.” I reach across the table and lace my fingers with his. “I’m not willing to risk the life of the man I love.”
Before I can revel in the way his expression softens at my words, I forge on. “Luca…your life is the DEA. But I don’t want that kind of life. And I refuse to ask you to choose between your career and me.”
His brows descend. “So, that’s it? That’s. Fucking. It? You tell me you love me and then that you’re leaving? Goddammit, Olivia!” He jerks his hand from mine and slams a fist against the table, making it reverberate from the force. Anguished torture floods his expression. “After everything we went through to get here, you’re fucking leaving me?”
I squeeze my eyes closed against the anguished regret that cleaves my heart in two before peering at him. “You love your job, and you’re great at it. And I love you, but I need time to figure out who I am.”
He shoves up so abruptly from his chair that it teeters before steadying as he bellows, “I know who you are! You’re the goddamn woman I love!”
His words sound as though they’re torn straight from his heart, and my tears spill free, my breath suspending painfully in my chest. Agony etches his handsome features, and I despise that I’m the reason for it.
“Please, Luca. I’m not giving you an ultimatum, and I don’t expect you to wait for me. But I need to set my world back on its axis—for me. I know it’s supremely selfish. I just”—I choke on the emotion rising in my throat—“I just want to go somewhere where no one knows me. Where I can start over.”
“You wanna start over without me.” His words are flat, numb.
Darting up from my chair, I cry out, “I don’t know who I am!” Tears continue to race down my cheeks, and I swipe at them angrily. My voice grows quieter but shakes with pain. “I don’t know who I am anymore. My mother’s a murderer who’s finally in prison. And my father’s a criminal, too.”
I press a hand to the center of my chest. “They made this. Me. And I can’t wrap my mind around that. My colleagues, with the exception of one, think I’m tainted, crooked, because of who my mother is. Don’t pretend yours haven’t been saying the same thing.”
The stricken expression that flashes across his face speaks volumes before his features turn thunderous. “I don’t give a fuck what anyone else thinks!” His low, lethally fierce tone delivers the words more powerfully than if he were yelling. “They can talk all they want. I know the truth.”
“You say that now, but what happens when they question your credibility because of it? Your integrity?” I challenge even while harrowing anguish lances through me. “Don’t you see? I can’t bear for you to be blacklisted and shunned because of my ties to her.” My shoulders slump with my exhale. “Please understand that.”
Resignation colors his features as he searches my face intently. Closing the distance, he wraps me in his arms. With my cheek against his chest and the comfort of his rapidly thudding heartbeat beneath, I close my eyes and memorize how he feels. How he holds me like he never wants to let me go.
“Goddammit, Olivia.” His voice is thick with emotion. He presses his mouth to the top of my head. “I love you.” Drawing in a deep breath, he exhales against my hair and tightens his hold on me. “I love you, but I fucking hate this.”
“I know.” More tears spill down my cheeks and I whisper, “I love you, Luca.”
I pull away reluctantly and lift my wary eyes to his. He cups my face in his hands and lowers his mouth to mine. His kiss starts off so tender, it sends a pain so potent that it leeches into my bloodstream, into my soul.
Grief, from knowing I’ll be leaving him behind, gnashes its razor-sharp teeth in me and holds on tight. His lips feather across mine in a delicate, intimate caress, but when I part my lips to allow his tongue entry, the kiss changes in an instant.
My heart stalls in my chest at how frenzied, hungry, and needy our kiss becomes. Tongues entwining, I’m depleted of any remaining logic. All that matters now is Luca’s touch and his lips on mine.
When he eases back to peer down at me, the smirk toying at his lips is at odds with the desolation coloring his eyes. “Not gonna lie. I miss your professor skirts.” He rakes his palms up my thighs, scraping over my jeans, and I feel the scorching heat even from beneath the denim.
With a muttered expletive, his features colored with anguish and need, he studies me, as if awaiting my refusal.
If this is goodbye, then I want it all. Whatever this man is willing to offer, I’ll accept and cherish it always.
By the time I untuck my shirt and lift it over my head, his fingers yank down the cups of my bra. Golden brown eyes trace over me like I’m a priceless work of art. The rough pads of his thumbs scrape over my bare nipples, and I suck in a sharp breath before pawing insistently at his shirt.
He tears his shirt over his head. My fingers fumble to unfasten my jeans, and he shoves my hands aside, making quick work of the button and zipper. His fingers dive beneath the waist of my panties and tug them and my jeans down my legs, helping me kick them off.
I rake my palms over the hard wall of his chest and down his firm abdominals as his lips take mine. Deepening the kiss, he raids my mouth with his tongue, his touch unfurling a blazing heat that spreads through me.
With a gentleness that has my throat tightening with emotion, he lifts me and sets me on the table. Large palms splay over my knees while his eyes lock with mine.
“This okay?”
I nod.
“Gonna need to hear you say it.”
I reach up, curling my hand around the back of his head, and tug him to me. Nipping at his bottom lip, I murmur, “I’m okay as long as you don’t stop touching me.”
His mouth curves up slightly. “Yeah?” One hand glides up my thigh, and my breath catches in anticipation. When he gently traces a finger along my slit, I gasp.
“Mm. You gonna let me have a taste?” His finger glides between my outer lips, dipping inside the barest fraction. When he encounters my wetness, he grits out an expletive. “I gotta get my mouth on my woman.”
“Yes,” I gasp.
My body arches instinctively when he sinks his finger deeper inside me, gliding it in and out languidly. When he withdraws it and sucks my slickness from his finger, my nipples ti
ghten at the molten heat radiating in his eyes.
Settling in a chair between my legs, he gently places my feet on the armrests, and I brace my palms firmly on the table. Holding my gaze, he lowers his head to drag the tip of his tongue through my folds in one long lick.
“So fucking sweet.” He goes in for another slow lick.
My shuddered breath turns into a moan when he rasps his tongue against my sensitive clit. Palms rake up my body until they find my breasts, and he scrapes his thumbs along the tips.
Speaking against my core, he murmurs, “Gonna remember this. Hearing my woman moan my name.” His tongue dives inside me for deep, thorough tastes, and once it retreats, his voice is raspy with emotion and carnal need. “Want you to remember how good we are together.”
My response is breathless. “Luca…I need you.”
He raises his head to spear me with eyes heavy with lust. “You need me, huh?”
Straightening, he unfastens his jeans and shoves them down with his boxer briefs, his cock jutting free. A shiny bead of moisture gathers at the tip, and my chest rises and falls with heavy breaths when he wraps his fingers around his thick length, giving one firm tug.
“You need this, Professor?” His low, husky words send a rush of wetness to my core. Gripping my hip, he nudges the broad head against my clit, and I spread my legs wider, shamelessly.
“Please.” I don’t care that I’m begging, my voice a keening moan.
His jaw clenches, nostrils flaring, and our eyes clash. “You’re mine. You hear me?”
Once I nod, he edges the tip inside me, and my lips part on a soundless gasp.
“Yeah, baby. You’re all mine.”
With one deep thrust, he buries himself to the hilt, one hand on my hip while the other is buried in my hair. He fuses his mouth to mine in a kiss that’s frantic with need. Our teeth clink without care, tongues gliding and tangling, while he drives in and out of me, hips pumping hard.
“I fucking love you.” His agony-laced words spoken in a harsh whisper have my heart lurching into my throat.
