“Well you’re manners are less than perfect, but no, I just mean, I’m ready for you to be mean, get angry, do the whole intimidating thing you typically do, and then you’ll march off without making eye contact, and I’ll spend hours trying to figure out why you were so mean. Because I’m a girl, we do that. And I’m a girl who has way too much time on my hands.” I took a breath. “So whenever you’re ready.”
He opened his mouth then closed it. “You’re kind of…quirky aren’t you?”
“Yes.” I nodded solemnly. “Almost like a princess locked in a tower… the only time I ever go to the movies is if all of my uncles and brother come. Once — once I tried to go with a guy and found them all in the back row. Naturally Gio was yelling because they didn’t serve wine at the theater.”
Sergio moved across the room and stared out the window. “Tell me more.”
He wasn’t looking at me, but he seemed more relaxed.
And stories I could do.
I lived and breathed stories.
“Well…” I sat on my bed. “I couldn’t figure out why no guys ever asked me out in high school. On the last day, someone must have finally felt like they could break their silence. Dante had threatened many lives… and you’ve seen him. He’s got serious anger issues. Was Luca like that? Our father?” It felt weird asking, but I assumed they had been close, and I was desperate for some sort of connection with the man who had left me — the man who had left both of us.
Sergio hung his head. “He was… terrifying.”
“I didn’t inherit his terror.”
Sergio’s shoulders shook. I thought he was trembling until laughter bubbled out of him.
It was beautiful.
The sound.
Just like him.
Of course it would be.
“Are you making fun of me?”
“You have a dimple.” Sergio turned and crossed his arms. “I’m sorry to be the one to break the news to you, but you’re the least terrifying person I’ve ever met.”
I stuck out my tongue.
“You just made it worse.”
I chucked a pillow at him.
He moved out of the way then slowly walked over to me and sat on the bed, careful to keep at least a foot of space between us.
“Talk time?” I asked.
He nodded. “Gotta admit, I had a really scary speech for you, it was pretty heartless, cruel, the type that makes grown men cry.”
“Lucky me.”
“I can’t do it,” he admitted in a stunned voice. “Maybe it’s the dimple.”
Heat washed over my face as I reached up and touched one of my cheeks.
“One day…” He sighed. “You’ll find someone who makes you blush just like that, someone who’s just like the guys you read about in books, you’ll find a man worth fighting for.” He shook his head slowly. ”That man… isn’t me.”
His words stung, and I had no idea why. We were strangers, but rejection is rejection.
“Please don’t try.” He swallowed and looked down at his hands. “Don’t try to get me to fall for you. Don’t try to get me to fall in love with you. No seduction, no angry tears when I don’t kiss you goodnight — I can’t… I just…” His voice trembled. “Promise me you won’t ask for something I won’t ever be able to give you.”
My body was suddenly so heavy — tired. And I’d discovered in the past few days it was possible to FEEL anger in your bones, to feel it wash over you, right along with rejection. I hated it. “You said please.”
“I’m working on my bedside manner.”
“It shows.”
He smiled.
I cleared my throat and glanced down at my hands as I twisted them in my lap. They were clammy. Then again, he made me nervous. Just being around Sergio was like jumping head first into dark water — it was terrifying, yet at the same time still refreshing. “Is it because of me?”
Sergio exhaled a curse as his body tensed next to mine. Our thighs brushed, and I shivered. “No.”
“That’s very… reassuring, please go on and on about my many attributes.” I said dryly.
He laughed again. “Are you always this sarcastic?”
“Yes.” I nodded seriously. “I’m extremely sarcastic in my head.”
“You’re fine.”
The comment stung.
“And,” he continued, licking his lips, “I’m sure you could make any man happy…”
“Is that why you never look at me?” I asked. “You’re not very convincing, because right now I feel like the Wicked Witch of the West minus the magic.”
He didn’t move, but he clenched his jaw, and the muscle twitched as if he was grinding his teeth together. Slowly, he turned toward me, his blue eyes finally locking on mine.
The look he gave me was too much.
And yet not enough.
He didn’t look through me the way other people did.
It was as if, with one simple look, he was able to strip me down to the raw reality of who I was.
To make eye contact with Sergio Abandonato was to know both pain and beauty simultaneously.
I was afraid to speak.
The moment was tense.
Finally, he reached out and cupped my face with both of his hands, then leaned in and kissed my forehead. “You’re very pretty.”
“And here I thought you were going to say young again.” My voice shook, I couldn’t help it. He was still touching me.
With a sad smile, he dropped his hands to his sides and stood. “I’d never forgive myself if I allowed you to believe that you were the issue… I’d rather kill someone at pointblank range then be the one to make a girl feel insecure about her own beauty.”
Was he real?
What guy was concerned about that?
Only perfectly haunted ones who wanted nothing to do with me. Fantastic.
Sergio stood, thrusting his hands in his pockets.
“What was the other speech?” I asked once he reached the door.
Without turning he said, “Try to kiss me, and I won’t hesitate to kill you. Ask me for my love, and I’ll do us both a favor and make your death look like an accident.”
I burst out laughing.
He didn’t.
“You’re being dramatic right?”
He left.
“Right?” I called after him.
Chilled, I rubbed my arms and then marched over to the door and closed it. I eyed the lock for maybe four seconds before turning it.
It was the first time I’d locked my door since I was six.
I wasn’t sure if it was because I was trying to keep the monster out.
Or if it was to keep me in.
Because guys like Sergio made girls stupid.
He had wounds.
Scars.
Emotional baggage.
And he killed people.
The last thing he needed was to be saved.
Maybe. I walked over to my bed and sat. Maybe he just needed a friend.
I’ll follow thee and make a heaven of hell, To die upon the hand I love so well. —A Midsummer Night’s Dream
Sergio
THERE WAS NO time for actual wedding plans.
I refused to participate, regardless.
And I knew I was being an ass, but history was repeating itself. I just wanted to get the job done then drown myself in a fifth of whiskey — as many times as possible.
It wasn’t her.
It was the situation.
Val was just fine.
Fine.
Hah.
I’d ruffled her feathers — completely unintentionally, but girls like Val were dangerous. She was completely unaware of her own beauty. What was worse, she was innocent.
I’m sure she made many a man want to corrupt her.
Because for two seconds, maybe a half a second, I’d thought about it. That’s how pathetic I was — I assumed one night of hot sex would make me feel better.
Even though I knew it really w
ouldn’t.
I was like Phoenix now.
Completely unable to think of sex without shaking like a drug addict. I couldn’t think about sex without thinking about my dead wife.
She’d said to move on.
She’d said she understood in her letter, understood what I’d have to do, and for some reason it almost made it worse, that when she was lying next to me in bed, she had known the clock was ticking.
She had made love to me… knowing that she wouldn’t be the last.
She had kissed me… knowing that I was promised to another.
Every moment.
Every touch.
I was her last.
But she wasn’t mine.
How could she have still loved me? Knowing that? Knowing what my future held?
It gave me a headache thinking about it.
Ever since leaving Val’s room the day before, I’d been completely unable to focus on anything. My concentration was shit.
And I wanted to blame her.
Because I’d hurt her feelings; I’d looked at her.
I’d looked at her and thought about kissing her.
Then wanted to strangle her for being the cause for it.
I was a danger. To myself. To Val.
But I couldn’t tell her that. I couldn’t march upstairs and say, Surprise! Your future husband thinks about your murder — anything so he won’t have to touch you.
Not the best wedding gift.
Like putting a noose in a fancy box and telling her to go crazy.
I poured more wine and stared into the fire.
I was doing that a lot lately, just randomly staring at things, searching for answers in all the wrong places. I poured more wine and stared into the fire. I could handle the flame, not the whole fireplace, the whole fireplace somehow translated into much more meaning to me, meaning I wasn’t ready to face.
The air shifted, a shadow crossed briefly in front of me, the footsteps were heavy, solid. “Dante.”
“How the hell did you know?” he asked in a defeated voice as he joined me on the couch.
“Practice.” I drank more wine.
“So…” Dante coughed into his hand then crossed his arms.
“Spit it out, man.”
He leaned forward and placed his hands out in front of him as if he was going to give me a huge speech. I really didn’t want to talk about his sister.
“I’m just gonna come out and ask it, all right?”
“Probably a good call, I’m not a patient man.”
“No shit,” he muttered then rubbed his hands together. “I want you to train me.”
“Huh?” I set the wine on the coffee table and turned to face him. “Train you? How, exactly?”
He gulped. “I want to know how to fight better. I’m a good shot, but I could be better. I have anger issues, and I don’t know why — at least, I know I struggle with my temper. I was just thinking, since you’re here, and since… I guess I have no choice now…” His voice trailed off.
“You realize what you’re asking me,” I stated in a quiet voice.
“I think so.”
“You think so?” I sneered. “Thinking is the same as hesitation. You don’t think, you know. If you want me to train you, I’ll train you, but do you really think you’re ready? To laugh death in the face? To end someone’s life? Do you even realize the innocent people I’ve taken from this world? Are you ready to do that? To kill someone who doesn’t deserve it? Because it seems to me that you may be under the impression we only kill the bad guys.” I let out a heartless laugh. “I wish.”
“You kill innocent people.”
“I kill.” I nodded. “Period. A job’s a job. But loose ends? We don’t do loose ends. If we have a rat and he has a family, a wife, kids, and we suspect them…” I shrugged. He’d figure it out.
He was quiet for a minute then whispered, “Has that happened before?”
“More times than I’d care to admit.”
“Did Luca ever hesitate?”
“He hesitated when necessary. He knew how to time everything, he was…. strategic.”
“That.” Dante nodded, his lips drawn into a grim line. “Teach me that. Killing must be the last option, but outsmarting people? That I know I can do.”
A weight lifted off my shoulders, because the last thing I wanted to do was teach Luca’s son about murder. But intelligence? Yeah, I could do that with my eyes closed.
“Yes.”
“What?” He frowned.
“I said yes. I’ll train you.”
He exhaled. “Thanks.”
“I don’t do hugs though.” I held out my hand; he gripped it and shook on it.
“Dude, I hug my sister. That’s it.”
“Good to hear it.”
“How is she?” he asked, changing the subject.
And I was back to staring into the fireplace, reaching for my wine — anything to take away the churning in my stomach. “Good.”
“Will you ever be able to love her?”
I thought about it for a while. Could I? Not in the way I loved Andi, but I imagined I could learn to love her like family, and that was better than nothing. “Like a sister… I can love her that way.”
“Hey.” Val knocked on the wall, announcing her arrival. “The uncles are gathering in the kitchen. There’s wine, there’s yelling, and I heard something about Chicago? Can you guys come help?”
Dante rolled his eyes and stood. “When are they not fighting?”
“Right.” Val held up her hands in innocence. “But they never fight if they’ve already finished three bottles of wine.”
“Girl has a point,” Dante muttered as he moved past Val.
Her eyes darted to mine, uncertainty and hurt laced every angle of her face. Damn it.
She’d heard.
The dreaded sister word.
At least now she knew.
I’d protect her with my life.
I’d love her like I would any family member.
But she would never share my bed.
Or have my heart.
Now I am dead. Now I am fled. –A Midsummer Night’s Dream
Valentina
HE DIDN’T EVEN apologize or at least explain himself. It was rough, the entire situation was rough. It was like being told you’re good but not good enough.
I realized in that moment, when Sergio stared me down, refusing to go back on what he said about me being like a sister, that I’d been more than coddled and sheltered. I’d been straight up locked inside a box with only one window looking out on the world.
I straightened my spine and gave him a half smirk even though I didn’t feel it. “If I’m your sister that means you’d pull a Dante and go to the movies with me, doesn’t it?”
He looked confused and extremely uncomfortable. “I guess.”
“Good.” I nodded. “Because I really want to see this horror movie, and Gio gets nightmares, so I guess that means you’re up!”
“You want me to go to the movies with you?” he repeated, his shoulders slumping in defeat.
“Yup!” I nodded. “I’ll just go get my purse. Brothers also pay and get extra butter on the popcorn but make it look like they’re ordering it for themselves, so it looks like I’m still eating healthy.” I paused to take a breath. “Also, I like Sour Patch Kids.”
“Should I be writing this down?” he asked in a defeated voice. “Or will you remind me when we get there?”
“Soda.” I tapped my chin. “I mix coke and Dr. Pepper.”
“That’s blasphemous!” he gasped, joked, and finally relaxed his stance, though his version of relaxed still looked like he had a stick up his ass.
“I live life on the edge. What can I say?”
“Rule breaker.” He took a step toward me. “Does Dante sit by you?”
“Nope.” I sighed. “He sits behind me. So basically you’re like my body guard, lucky you.”
“So I’m a human shield?” he asked, his
blue eyes doing that twinkle thing that made my knees weak.
“Think you can handle it?”
“I’ll do my best.”
I turned around and ran up the stairs.
When I got back Sergio already had his jacket on.
I shoved my phone into my purse and quickly put my brown leather jacket on and then wrapped a scarf around my neck. “I just need to go tell the uncles.”
“Done.” Sergio opened the door. “You’re welcome.”
I hesitated and then walked through. “Th-thanks.”
“So…” Why did he have to be so nice to look at? A light wind picked up, causing his wavy hair to whip against his strong cheeks. “Do we walk or take a taxi?”
“Taxi.” I held up my hand. “It’s too cold to walk.”
“Is it?”
“For those of us who have hearts,” I said under my breath.
He paused and then burst out laughing. “Holy shit, was that a dig at me?”
I shrugged as the taxi pulled up.
“Damn, and you’re not even apologizing.”
“It was more of a passing comment under my breath…” I got into the taxi and slid across the cold, worn vinyl seat. “But true.”
Sergio slammed the door after him. “And here I thought I was making a good impression.”
“You offered to kill me if I kissed you.”
The taxi driver frowned into the rearview mirror.
“She’s kidding,” Sergio reassured him.
I refused to let him get off that easy. “You also look at me like you want to throw up.”
Mr. Taxi Driver’s nostrils flared.
“Uh.” Sergio laughed uncomfortably. “I just have a lot on my mind.”
“The wife.”
Taxi Driver’s eyes looked like they were going to bug out of his head. Yeah, this was probably the best entertainment he’d had all day.
“I don’t talk about it,” Sergio said in a drop-the-subject voice.
“Maybe you should.”
“I have enough money to afford a therapist, thank you,” he said through clenched teeth.
“Money doesn’t buy happiness,” I fired back.
Sergio released a string of pithy curses. “Did someone spike your milk this morning during show and tell?”
“Lactose intolerant.”
Empire Page 8
