by Bethany-Kris
Gio didn’t bat an eye at Andino’s statement. It was almost like that was exactly what his father expected to hear, and so, it didn’t really come as a surprise.
Nothing in this life was a surprise, now.
“And none of that seems like a problem to you,” Giovanni noted.
Jesus Christ.
“Don’t mistake my apathy for a lack of empathy,” he countered. “But I also know what’s expected of me, and what I have to do.”
Or make it look like I am doing.
That, too.
“For now, that’s what matters,” Andino added.
Gio tipped his chin up a bit. “For now.”
Ah, fuck.
“Is that because your attention is still elsewhere, and you still haven’t committed yourself to the things Dante has asked of you, or no?”
Andino’s jaw clenched. “Don’t play word games. I hate that.”
“Haven Murphy. You’re still seeing her, I hear. And I only heard it because the enforcer you have trailing you at the moment thought to mention it to me the last time we spoke. You’re still playing with that fire—as much as two days ago, even. She spent the night at your place. How’s that for a word game?”
Fuck his whole entire life.
Pink was still busy elsewhere—the enforcer had to keep an eye on Siena from afar like Andino told him to do. Which meant Andino needed to have a new enforcer watch his back on a daily basis. One he didn’t particularly like, and who didn’t understand the meaning of being loyal to the person who was paying him. Instead, he was loyal to the family.
That was a problem for Andino.
He needed a lot of things from people—most importantly, he demanded their loyalty. That, and for them to be discreet about his business. Private, or otherwise.
Even if it was his father.
“Thank you for letting me know that,” Andino said darkly.
Gio frowned. “What does that mean?”
“It means I have a problem that needs to be disposed.”
“You’re going to kill the enforcer because he spoke to me?”
“Don’t be offended. It’s not about you.”
Gio chuckled. “No, it’s about you, I suppose. You’re going to make an interesting boss, son. I can already tell.”
“That is the plan, apparently.”
“Are you going to tell me what in the hell you’re doing with Haven? And Ginevra? This deal—your uncle? What is going on, Andino? At least give me the respect of telling me what kind of shit I might step into before I put my whole foot in the pile. Allow me to … well, be on your side, son. Please.”
Andino had planned to do this alone—whatever he needed to do, that was, to get what he fucking wanted. He didn’t need help. He just needed the means and the time to get shit done.
Still, as he stared at his father, he had to wonder …
Was that the right choice?
“I want her,” Andino said.
Gio dragged in a deep breath, and took a moment before he spoke again. “Haven.”
“Yes.”
“All right.”
“All right?”
Gio smirked. “If you’re going to pick a hill to die on—why not that one? Yeah, why not that fucking hill, Andino.”
Hey, at least it was a beautiful hill.
TWELVE
Haven was entirely distracted by the report from yet another inspection of the club sitting in front of her. The hustle and bustle of a small Brooklyn café was practically nonexistent. Nothing more than a hum in the back of her mind.
“Are you looking at it?” Dale asked.
“Finally,” Haven said. “Yes.”
She’d printed off the report Dale faxed over from the investor’s inspector just before leaving the club after a weekly meeting with the employees. He had offered to come over and go through the report with Haven, but her empty stomach wasn’t having it.
Now, with a coffee and bagel in front of her, she felt a little more human and up to looking through the report.
The final report—or it was supposed to be. This was the last inspection that the investor wanted before the deal on the club could go through.
This was what she had been waiting for.
“So, what exactly am I looking at, then?” Haven said.
The official documents seemed like a lot of nonsense and legalese. Nothing that she cared to wade through to find the keywords she needed to say everything was good to go. That’s what Dale was working for, anyway. He wanted his commission. He could earn it, too.
“Basically,” Dale said, “the inspector gave the green light on everything. The investor is good to go whenever he is ready to sign the check, so to speak.”
Haven blinked.
Yeah, that’s what she wanted to hear. And yet, it was still a little surreal when the words finally reached her ears. All this time, and just like that, the wait was over. She didn’t really know what to do about it, or how to feel.
“Oh,” Haven said.
The realtor chuckled on the other end of the line. “You don’t sound happy.”
Haven rubbed at her forehead, and shook her head even knowing that the man couldn’t see it over the phone. “No, I am. It’s just … been a while since we started this process, I guess. Maybe I expected them to drag it on for another few months.”
“Well, the check isn’t signed yet.”
She heard the joke in the man’s tone, but she didn’t find it very funny, all things considered. Nonetheless, she let it slide.
“How long is it going to take to get the paperwork drawn up, signed, and finalized?” Haven asked.
“At most, a week or two. Probably closer to two.”
Two weeks.
That was all.
“I can do two more weeks,” Haven said.
Her house still hadn’t sold yet—a couple of low offers that made her roll her eyes before, sure. She was starting to think that maybe she should take a lower offer just to get the house off her hands, too.
That would make things simpler …
“Okay, well, I will get on the phone with the—”
“Haven?”
Dale’s voice cut off entirely in Haven’s ear even though she knew he was still speaking because she suddenly found herself staring up at someone she didn’t expect to see. Well, at least not in some random tiny Brooklyn café.
Andino’s father.
Again.
What kind of shitty luck did she have to keep randomly running into this man? At least with Andino, she was the one who went to him. With his father, it seemed like the world was just having a good fucking laugh at her expense.
“Giovanni, hi,” Haven said.
The man smiled warmly.
On the phone, Dale’s voice filtered back through Haven’s shock. “Are you still there?”
Shit.
She gave Giovanni an apologetic shrug of her shoulder, and pointed at the phone before mouthing, just give me a second. “Yeah, Dale, I’m still here. I have to go—something came up.” Or someone, rather. “Give me a call when you need my signature.”
“Will do, Haven. Have a great day.”
“You, too.”
Haven shut the phone off, and tucked it into her purse at her side. By the time she gave her attention to Andino’s father again, the man was staring at the paperwork from the inspector and the investor with a dip in his brow, and a curious smile.
Haven cleared her throat, and Gio glanced at her. “Do you come here often?”
“A couple of times a week. They have my wife’s favorite Danishes.”
“Ah. I just needed something to eat fast, and this was the closest place.”
“It’s a good choice,” Gio replied, still smiling kindly. “They have great food.”
“Good to know.” Haven closed the folder, which again drew in Gio’s gaze, and then proceeded to pack the stuff into her oversized purse. “Also, for future reference, because it seems like we keep running into eac
h other … but you don’t have to say hello to me just to be polite. I know you probably wish you didn’t have to see me at all, so—”
“Oh, you couldn’t be more wrong about that,” Gio interrupted her with a soft laugh, “but I suppose, all things considered, you can’t be expected to know anything different. Right?”
Haven blinked, and looked up at the man. “I beg your pardon?”
Giovanni shrugged his shoulders beneath the well-tailored black blazer he wore. Just like his son, the man was broad-shouldered, tall, and classically handsome. He also gave off an air that screamed bad news, old money, and a lifetime worth of secrets he probably wasn’t willing to share.
It was almost funny how alike he and his son were in those ways.
“I mean,” Giovanni said, sliding into the chair across the table from Haven without even being invited, “that I think it’s a shame we haven’t really been able to have an actual conversation. Knowing some of the things I do about you, that seems like it’s my loss.”
His loss.
His loss to not speak to her.
“Uh,” Haven said, still unsure.
Giovanni flashed her a wide smile. “I always thought … well, knowing my son and how he is, the woman who eventually came into his life and took it over would have to be something amazing. Mind you, all the men in our family have managed to find a wife that fits him just the way she needs to. They’re all amazing in their own ways. But my son? He went out and found someone I never expected, but I still can’t find it in myself to be surprised.”
“Why?”
She didn’t want to ask the question, really, but it still managed to slip out. Damn her curiosity straight to hell and back. It only served to get her hurt.
“Because Andino is not average, and he does not come from average men,” Gio said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “He is not the exception; he is exceptional. You see, I always thought my son was more like his uncle—the one you met at the club with me, Dante. A stickler for the rules; always toeing the line; never questioning his place or the demands put on him. Certainly nothing like me.”
Gio laughed in that way again—dark, and deep. “Not like me, Haven, who broke every rule I could, and caused the most trouble for my family. Not like me who went after a woman I was not allowed to have, and nearly got myself and her killed for it in the process. No, he wasn’t like me at all. He was smarter than me, and better than me. It was for the best, anyway. Someone decided when he was just sixteen that he was going to be a king-in-waiting, but they didn’t want to tell him, then. He didn’t need to know then. Either way, he was going to do great things while I had only done the bare minimum. He was destined to be someone I could never be. I only managed to keep myself alive. That was a feat in itself, believe me.”
Haven didn’t know what to say.
Gio wasn’t looking for a reply, apparently.
He shrugged, and reached for the menu that had been placed on the table. Looking it over, he said, “It turns out, my son is a hell of a lot more like me than I thought. I’m not sure whether to be surprised, or terrified for what might happen because of it, but here we are.”
“You do know that I don’t understand a lot of what you’re telling me, right?”
The man grinned slyly. “In time, you will. I expect so, anyway.”
Haven frowned. “I think you’re confused about some things, then.”
“How so?”
Giovanni met her gaze, and despite the warning she found there, she didn’t look away.
“Andino and I …” Haven struggled to come up with the right thing to say that wasn’t too personal. “We’re not together. That was a choice he made, and one I’m trying to deal with now even if he does confuse the hell out of me constantly. That’s not important, though. We’re not a thing, and we’re not going to be. Ever.”
“Not together?”
“No.”
“You two seem to end up in the same spaces for people who are … not together.”
Haven let out a bitter laugh.
What else could she do?
“How do you even know that?” Haven asked.
Giovanni kept an innocent expression as he replied, “Because I look out for my son even when he thinks I am prying and spying. He deserves—and needs—only the absolute best people surrounding him. Those who will give him absolute loyalty and nothing less in this life. Even when it’s someone like his father looking for information. Anyway,” he said with a wave of his hand, “when I was dealing with something else for him, I learned you were still around. I guess we just haven’t run into one another again since the last time I found you coming out of his house, huh? But we both know you’ve been back there.”
Haven’s cheeks pinked. “Yeah. Let’s not and say we did.”
“Mmm.” The man only smiled in that sneaky way of his. “You don’t even know why you keep going back to him, do you?”
“Not the slightest clue.”
Giovanni nodded. “I didn’t think so.”
“He keeps drawing me back, I guess.”
“I bet.” Gio stood from the table, then, and fixed his jacket. “By the way, how is your mom?”
Haven glanced down at the folder in front of her. “Still sick.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll pray for her—I don’t think God cares much to hear from me anymore, but who the hell knows?”
Haven smiled a little. “Thanks.”
“Is that why Andino is buying your club? You didn’t get a better offer, and he was willing?”
Her head snapped up and her gaze narrowed. “I’m sorry?”
Gio’s expression blanked as his gaze drifted from the folder sticking out of her bag to Haven’s confused face. “The inspection report in that folder—I saw the company name. Your club is still for sale, isn’t it? That’s what I assumed it was for.”
“Not that. The other thing—the Andino thing. What did you mean by him buying my club?”
“The company on the inspection report.”
“What about it?”
Gio’s brow lifted. “That’s the shell company my son uses to invest in different businesses. His lawyers handle the buying, selling, and other paperwork. He just deals in the cash.”
Haven blinked.
What. The. Fuck.
“Andino’s company,” Haven murmured.
“That’s what I said.”
Yes, it was.
Jesus fucking Christ.
How could he?
How dare Andino?
Where are you right now?
The text seemed innocent on the surface. Nothing to suggest Haven was raging mad, and out for blood. She had carefully measured each word she sent to Andino so that he didn’t think something was up. She didn’t want him to know something was up yet.
His response had been almost automatic with, At my restaurant in Manhattan. Busy today. Want me to call you later?
Haven hadn’t even bothered to reply back to that question. No, she didn’t want him to call her back. After today, she didn’t ever want to see his fucking face again.
She had figured out long ago that Andino could be a little manipulative when he wanted to be. That if a situation called for it, and he knew it would work out to his favor, he had no issues with playing very dirty to get what he wanted.
Haven never thought he would try that shit with her. Well, not to this goddamn extreme. Not to the point where even knowing her mother was sick, and that she greatly wanted to get out of New York for her mom, and to put distance between him and her … he still stepped in her way behind the scenes to make sure she wasn’t going anywhere.
She never thought he would do this to her.
How was that love?
Maybe an unhealthy love. An obsessive, crazy, and nonsensical love. One meant to covet, hurt, and destroy. One that Haven didn’t want at all.
She didn’t want love if it meant that.
Usually, Haven would take a cab when she was travelin
g through the city. That, or the subway. It was faster, and easier. The thing was—she hadn’t even cared to wait long enough for the cab to get to her place after her meeting with Giovanni sent her flying home in a rage. She’d grabbed her keys, and took her car out of the garage for the first time in months.
Worst purchase of her life, really.
She never even needed a car in the city.
Today, though, the car was coming in handy for once. Except she was forced to sit in gridlocked upper Manhattan traffic while the warm May sun beat down on her windshield. The second she got a chance to pull off the road—she was only a couple of blocks away from Andino’s restaurant now—she did just that. Even knowing she was likely going to have her car towed, she parked it right where she stopped.
Fuck it.
They could keep the goddamn car.
Haven didn’t care.
She stepped onto the sidewalk, and blended into the crowd of people going in all different directions. She barely even saw their faces. It was all a blur as each one of her steps took her that much closer to a man she wanted to hurt like he had hurt her.
Time and time again.
He just hurt her.
The two blocks it took Haven to get to Andino’s business passed before she even fully realized it had happened. She was lost to her own anger and thoughts. She couldn’t even think about anything else.
Haven never once considered that this might be a bad idea. She didn’t even bother to consider that she should at least offer Andino the decency and respect of confronting him somewhere less public, and unattached to his name.
She didn’t think about any of that.
Why should she?
He’d never once thought about her. Not her heart, or that the things he did might hurt her more than he could ever truly understand. He never cared about those things—apparently—so why should she give a fuck about him now?
She didn’t.
Not at all.
Haven climbed the steps of the familiar restaurant, and flung the front door open. She didn’t bother to spare a glance at the changes since the last time she had been there, if there even was any to mention. The girl at podium smiled brightly—she was a new face, clearly, as she didn’t recognize Haven at all—but Haven walked right past her without as much as a hello.
