by Bethany-Kris
Dante scrubbed a hand down his jaw, and gritted his teeth. He shot a look in the direction of his brothers who were both seated, and quiet in the office. They knew better than to speak up. Gio, because he was of the same opinion as Andino, and Lucian, because he was just fucking smart.
Since his uncle had decided to keep quiet, Andino continued talking. He had the floor, after all. “They’re snakes—we know this. They thought they had some kind of upper hand on us, and I just showed them how wrong they were by taking out one of their highest Capos, and Kev Calabrese’s closest friend next to his brother. They’re not stupid men. They know an honest to God street war with the Marcello family would not be in their best interests.”
“He has a point,” Lucian said. “And when we chose to not react against their actions, they only got worse. What might something like this change, Dante?”
“There was a point to what I wanted, brother.”
Lucian nodded. “But was it the right choice to make?”
Dante glared, but quickly turned his attention back on Andino. “You were not given permission to make a hit like that; you were out of fucking line.”
So be it.
“Are we finished here?” Andino asked.
Dante looked ready to blow his fucking top. He doubted his uncle thought that in all the people he could have chosen to take over after him, Andino would be the one to cause him this much trouble. He loved his uncle—respected the man more than anyone would ever know.
But Dante was stuck in a different time. He wanted different things for the Marcellos than what Andino knew the family and organization needed to thrive well into the future. Allowing a faction like the Calabrese to believe they had any kind of control or weight against their family would lead to nowhere good.
He understood why Dante wanted peace.
It was still wrong.
“We’re done,” Dante uttered through clenched teeth. “For now.”
That was fine with Andino.
He only needed this to start the ball rolling elsewhere.
After all … this wasn’t just for the Marcellos. This was for him, too. He was going to get what he wanted one way or the other. His uncle had given him the means and the motive when he said it would be the men sitting at the Commission who held him back from having Haven. It was the people there who would tell him no, and refuse him the woman he wanted the very most.
So, fine.
He’d make sure those who made up the Commission were people he chose to be there. That’s all there was to it.
That was the rope Andino needed—some men might hang themselves with it when given the chance, but he wasn’t that kind of man. He was the kind of man who didn’t mind using that rope to hang someone else.
And if the Marcellos came out better for it, which they would, then he didn’t see the problem. His uncle didn’t need to know that, though.
That wasn’t part of the plan.
Andino had just stepped out of the office while his uncle still muttered on behind him when his phone started to ring with a familiar tune. He grinned down at the name flashing on the screen.
Haven.
It took her long enough. He thought the note on the flowers was a nice touch … he just didn’t think it would take her this long to call about them.
Because really, what else would she be calling for?
She constantly surprised him.
SIX
Haven eyed the bushel of flowers resting in the vase she had managed to find in one of the many boxes that she had yet to send to storage. Despite the confusion those stupid flowers made her feel every single time she even looked their way, she kept them on her table. Right in the very fucking middle.
They were the first thing she saw whenever she came into the kitchen, and the last thing she saw before she left. She watered them, fed them the plant food that had been shoved in with the stems, and even carefully pruned away any dead foliage lest it kill the healthy parts of the other flowers.
She hated them. She hated the beautiful flowers with their colorful, soft petals because they constantly reminded her of the man who gave them to her, and how cruel love truly was. Because they were something she wasn’t willing to get rid of even if it would make her feel better to do exactly that, and then put them out of her mind … just like Andino. Because they caused her pain without meaning to, and she was not smart enough to put an end to that agony.
So yes, she hated them.
And yet, she took care of them, too.
It was not lost on Haven how fucking ironic it was that those flowers and the way she treated them with great love and care were a perfect mirror to her relationship with Andino. She treated their relationship the same way she treated these stupid ass flowers. With love and care. While he—like the stupid flowers—only gave her confusion and pain in return.
She tried her best to ignore the note that had been attached to the flowers. That only lasted a few short days, though, because like the flowers … she wasn’t able to toss the note, or stop looking at it whenever she stepped foot in this damn kitchen.
How was she supposed to forget about something when she was constantly reminding herself of that very thing?
She tried to put it out of her mind.
And failed.
So, when trying to ignore the note and what it might mean failed, she regaled herself to not calling Andino about the note. It became her next task.
She failed at that, too.
Fuck her life.
“Ciao, mia bella donna.”
Why did he have to sound like that?
All dark, smooth, and entirely bad for her health?
His voice alone was enough to get her heart pounding, and her chest tight. The sound of him calling her beautiful in Italian could make her wet between her thighs, and ready to run right back to him even if that was the very last thing she should do.
Oh, yeah.
Entirely bad for her health.
In more ways than one …
“Andino,” Haven greeted civilly.
Somehow, she managed to keep her tone level. She thought she didn’t sound stupid with her feelings just from the sound of his voice alone. She really fucking sucked at this whole thing, but it wasn’t entirely her fault. It was his. He did this to her, and he kept doing it, too. She didn’t want to be played with. Not her heart, her body, or her soul. She loved this man, but that didn’t mean she had to allow him to keep hurting her, too.
That was Haven’s hard limit.
It wasn’t happening.
“What can I do for you today?” he asked.
Haven clenched her jaw, and passed the flowers another look. Not that those damn things were very far from her mind lately—clearly. It just irritated her so goddamn much that he could act as though nothing was wrong, and they were perfectly fine. That nothing had happened, and he hadn’t watched her leave his house a few days earlier after telling her he didn’t love her.
Like he didn’t send her flowers that same day with this confusing fucking note!
“Do you care to tell me what that note means?” Haven said.
Andino made a low noise—sexy and husky at the same time. “Which note would that be, baby?”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Oh, you’re in that kind of mood today.”
Jesus.
Maybe calling him was a mistake. He seemed bound and determined to work every fucking nerve she had, and happily so.
“You know exactly which note I mean, Andino,” Haven said, refusing to indulge the bait he offered. If they got in to that argument, then she knew there was no way in hell she would get the answers she wanted. “The one you sent along with these fucking flowers.”
“Do you not like the flowers?”
He posed the question so genuinely that she wanted to laugh. Instead, she just let out a frustrated noise.
“Because if you prefer another type, Haven, just let me know, and I will have those sent to you tonight
. Is that what you—”
Oh, my God!
“This isn’t about the flowers!”
Andino made another one of those noises. “Then why are you yelling at me about them?”
Yep.
Every nerve—this man knew how to work them like a pro.
“The note—what does it mean?” she asked quietly.
There, she’d managed to gain back some semblance of control. How long it would last, however, was an entirely different story. Probably as long as it took Andino to start acting … well, like himself, apparently.
“It means exactly what it said,” Andino replied after a long pause. “That I am a terribly good liar, which means you were exactly right when you said that to me before you left my house. I am a good liar—I lied. And so, I felt the need to tell you exactly that.”
“That you love me, you mean,” she whispered. “You love me.”
“I don’t know how to not love you, Haven.”
God, yeah.
That’s what she wanted to hear.
That didn’t mean she wanted to know it, too.
Those were two very different things. Like the different parts of her that kept warring back and forth day in and day fucking out about this man. Her heart and her soul knew exactly what they wanted—Andino. Her mind, on the other hand, was the part that kept screaming no, and bad, and run, girl.
Because him saying that—that he loved her—only left her feeling more pain and confusion than ever. He had made the choice. He had done this to them. She felt like rope being tugged in two entirely different directions. He had control of one end, and her mind had control of the other.
Healthy, and unhealthy.
Good, and bad.
What she wanted, or what she needed.
“You said it,” she pointed out, not even bothering to hide the ache coloring her words as she spoke. “You said it—we’re over. Done. You chose that, Andino, not me.”
“I did say that.”
“Then why are you doing this to me? You’re playing a game with me, and I don’t want to be played with. I am not a toy!”
She’d told him this before. She was going to keep saying it until he fucking got it. Her heart was not some bouncy rubber ball for him to play with when he was bored. He was not going to keep hurting her time and time again just because he fucking could.
Haven wasn’t a masochist.
She didn’t like pain.
“Please don’t play games with me,” she whispered. “Let me go, and let me move on, Andino. That’s what I want.”
“I can’t do that. I want you too much to do that, Haven.” Andino chuckled under his breath, adding, “And I think you want it to … otherwise, you wouldn’t have called me today. You didn’t need to call, woman. You could have thrown that note away, and forgot about me. You don’t need answers to questions when you don’t really give a fuck about them. So, what does that say about you? I don’t think you want me to stop, or let you go. Do you?”
Well, then …
Fuck.
“You said we were done,” she repeated.
So, shouldn’t that be it? Shouldn’t that end this? Shouldn’t he let her walk away?
Haven felt so. Andino did not, apparently. She wished she could be surprised.
Without a hint of decipherable emotion in his tone, Andino replied, “And I lied. We’re never going to be done, baby. Not now.”
God.
She hated him too.
And yet she couldn’t hate him at all. Not when she loved him.
“Are you ready for the good news?”
Haven looked up from the paperwork she had spread out on Safe Haven’s bar to see Dale crossing the club’s empty floor. In his hand, the realtor held a manilla file. On his face, a large, pleased smile.
She straightened on the barstool, and pushed the papers into a semi-organized pile that wouldn’t be in their way during their conversation. Sunday happened to be the only day Safe Haven was closed, but despite the fact she could have done all her paperwork from home, Haven still found herself coming to the club.
For the memories, maybe.
Nostalgia.
She only had to peer around the empty place to know she was going to miss it once it was finally gone. The constant movement, and the people. All her hard work, and the decades of history that had walked on these floors.
Yeah, she’d miss it.
Her father, surprisingly, didn’t have an issue with her selling the business. It was the fact she was going to upend her entire life and put it on hold that her father and mother took issue with. Even if her mom was sick.
“Tell me the good news,” Haven said. “I need some lately.”
To say the fucking least.
Her whole life was one giant mess after another, and nothing seemed to be changing about that any time soon. It all stemmed right back to Andino, too. She should just tell him to fuck on off to wherever the hell he came from, but a part of her didn’t want to. Haven wasn’t the type of woman to let a man play games with her head and heart, but here she was.
If only …
If only she could sell the club, and her house, then she would be free and clear to do whatever in the hell she wanted to do. Free to get far away from New York, and whatever strange hold Andino had on her. She couldn’t think clearly when he was around, and she just needed … to get back to what made her, her.
Go back to the things that made her happy.
She’d hoped he could be the thing that made her happy, but Andino seemed to make a challenge out of proving Haven wrong every single chance he could. She had to start putting herself first—that much was clear—and stop allowing him to hurt her.
Simple as that.
Dale took a barstool next to Haven’s, and threw the manilla folder to the bartop. He gestured at it with one finger, and a proud smile. “There’s your good news right there. Take a look. Go on, and tell me what you think.”
Haven quirked a brow, and reached for the file. Dragging it in front of her, she flipped it open, and did a quick scan of the paper on the first page. It was nothing more than a very large number scribbled on a white piece of paper.
Mind you, the number made Haven’s eyes widen.
“Is this …”
“An offer for the club,” Dale replied, his smile growing wider.
Oh, wow.
Haven blinked as she took in the number a second time. “That’s a hell of a lot more than what I asked for.”
Dale nodded. “I actually had two other offers come in the same day. One for a few thousand less than your asking price, and another for exactly the asking price. When I happened to mention that to the middleman for this offer, he was quick to say that he figured his offer would be the one you would be more interested in taking.”
Haven cleared her throat; overwhelmed didn’t begin to adequately describe what was running through her mind. “I can see why he thought that, yeah.”
That extra money would do wonders for her mother’s medical bills. Sure, her parents had insurance that covered a lot, but it only went so far. Haven had a savings that she didn’t mind depleting for her parents—even if they argued or told her no—but having a bit of a safety net was always comforting.
Haven flipped through the papers in the folder, checking out the other details. It seemed the buyer didn’t have an issue with the terms Haven put on the sale of the club like the name remaining the same, and the employees staying on as long as they were willing, and followed the rules as they always had.
“Who is the buyer?” she asked.
Dale reached over, and flipped back to a page Haven had quickly overlooked as it just had a business name, and details. Nothing that she found particularly useful.
“An investor wants to buy it, actually,” Dale said, “and the offer came in from that investor’s lawyer under their company. It’s not uncommon for buyers to use their businesses as a shield when purchasing properties, or whatever else. It adds to their por
tfolio, and also gives them a bit of protection. They can write it all off as a loss for their business should the need arise.”
“Like a shell company?”
Dale shrugged. “You could consider it that, yeah.”
Huh.
“And this company—”
“Has quite a portfolio of businesses spread across the state, and elsewhere,” he said.
Well, then …
Haven had said she wanted good news, and this certainly fit the bill. She did another quick scan of the contents inside the folder, taking her time to look over each paper, and memorize the details.
Part of her thought, do you really want to do this?
Do you really want to get rid of this place?
A louder part screamed, one step closer to getting out of this city.
Wasn’t that what she wanted the most?
“Okay,” Haven said, pushing the folder aside, and giving Dale her full attention once more. “Where do I sign, and how do we get the ball rolling on taking this offer?”
The man laughed. “I will call the buyer’s contact as soon as I leave here to let him know everything looks good, and you’re a go on taking the offer.”
She clapped her hands together. The relief was a sweet sensation clawing through her bloodstream. “Okay, good.”
“But you should be warned … the lawyer who made the offer was clear on the buyer’s wishes, and it could take a bit of time to get through all of that.”
Ah, shit.
Haven gave the man a look. “And what exactly does that mean, now?”
“The buyer is pretty particular and picky about the businesses they purchase, I guess. They have to make sure everything is on the up and up. They don’t want to buy a place only to find out it’s two steps away from being condemned. Never mind, building code violations and health code issues—that all spells fines and problems.”
Haven tried not to be offended. She really, really did. It was fucking hard. “Safe Haven is up to date, follows all the codes, and there isn’t even a goddamn shingle loose.”
Dale put his hands up in mock surrender. Okay, so maybe she could have curbed her attitude a little for that one. But probably not—this place had been her father’s baby, and now it was hers, too. There was no way in hell that Haven wouldn’t get offended at someone suggesting the place was a fucking dive.
