by Nikki Chase
Regardless, if she doesn’t agree to come with me willingly, I’ll have to drag her home, kicking and screaming. I don’t want to do that, but she has left me no choice.
“How was your day? Designed anything interesting?” I ask, filling the silence.
“Yeah.” Grace starts talking about her latest work, a poster for a local band’s event at some club. She tells me all about the shrill, demanding lead singer, who makes her revise the design dozens of times.
Interesting. Grace only talks when it’s about her work. It’s either because she’s actually passionate about it, or she’s trying to avoid other topics of conversation.
By the time we reach the park, the orange sun has painted the sky purple and yellow. We cast long shadows on the asphalt as we walk across the parking lot.
Grace pulls a black cardigan from her bag as a gust of wind blows, raising the hem of her dress a few inches to show off her smooth, creamy skin. “I’m not dressed for hiking.”
“Who says we’re going hiking? The last time you went camping, you died. I don’t want that to happen again.”
Grace doesn’t laugh. Maybe it’s a bad joke.
At the entrance to the restaurant, a man wearing all white greets us and takes us into the only part of the woods with warm spotlights pointing at the tree trunks. “You came just in time for the sunset.”
I smile to myself as Grace swivels her head, looking up at the canopy of leaves blocking our view of the sun.
So she hasn’t been here. Strange, considering her fascination of the outdoors. I wonder if the woods reminds her of bad memories.
“Please,” the man says, gesturing at a pod made of wood and bamboo. A roof hangs about ten feet above the bottom of the pod.
I let Grace enter first through the small opening on the side of the pod.
Grace thanks the man and steps confidently into the pod, taking a seat by the table. I guess she figures I won’t be able to abduct her with this thing anyway.
Sitting across from her, I watch the gears turn in her head as the man checks the thick cables attached to the pod.
When the whole pod sways in the air, she gasps in surprise, grabbing the sides of the pod. Her hair sways, stray strands floating as the man remains on the ground and hoists us up with the cables.
“Oh my God.” Grace grins even as her fingers continue to grip the wood, her eyes darting between the rough texture of the massive tree right beside us and the changing views around us as we rise higher through the canopy. She laughs at the birds looking on with curiosity.
When the pod stops at the top, Grace widens her eyes at me in silent wonder.
“Not a bad place, huh?” I ask, cocking an eyebrow.
She laughs, her eyes sweeping all around us. “Are you kidding? This is amazing. I can’t believe there’s a place like this so close to where I live. Sometimes I wish I could get out more, but I—” Grace swallows the rest of her sentence.
“But you . . .?”
“But I have too much work to do.” She gives me a measured smile. Her gaze flicks away from me. “Oh, wow. Is that the waiter?”
A man zooms toward us through the trees and lands with a thump on the fixed platform beside our pod.
“Is that a zip line?” Grace asks with unrestrained excitement.
“It sure is,” the waiter says as he hands out menus. He takes our orders and zips away.
“I wonder how he balances the food while hanging from that thing,” Grace muses out loud. A smile plays on her lips as she looks around. “It’s so beautiful up here.”
“Not as beautiful as you.”
She avoids my gaze, but her smile widens slightly.
The waiter comes back with the food. Silence descends as we dig in. Grace seems to be plagued by her thoughts.
“Tell me what’s on your mind,” I say.
She hesitates. “I’ve been wondering . . . did you know who I was when we met at the club?”
“No. I would’ve taken you home with me that very night and refused to let you leave me side if I’d known.”
A flush rises to her cheeks and spreads down her neck.
I can’t help but glance at the cleavage peeking from the top of her neckline. I remember how her tits felt in my hands. God, I’d give anything to bury my face between them.
“You should’ve told me,” I say. Things would’ve been so different.
“I tried to call you. A woman picked up. She said you were getting married.” She stares at her plate as her fork stabs at a piece of potato. “I thought you were just . . . I don’t know. You wanted one last night of fun before you got married.”
“I wasn’t the only one who wasn’t completely honest that night,” I remind her. “Were you already planning on running away that night?”
She shakes her head. “I wanted to.”
“It was one last night of fun before you got married,” I echo her own words.
“Yeah.”
“Was it? Fun? Did it live up to your expectations?” I ask.
“Yeah.” Heat rises to her cheeks again, letting me know she’s telling the truth.
My chest clenches as I consider my next question. “Would you have run away if you’d known it was me?”
Grace falls silent. She gazes at me from underneath her thick lashes. “I don’t know. That’s not what happened.”
My hands ball into fists as I think about the four years I’ve lost because I didn’t learn the truth about the beautiful woman sitting across the table from me.
She tucks her hair behind her ear, but the wind quickly undoes it. “I’m almost afraid to ask, but . . . how are things between our families after I . . . left?”
“So you really don’t have any contact with your family?”
My dad is convinced the Espositos are lying about not knowing her daughter’s whereabouts. We attended Grace’s funeral, standing around her coffin while he muttered under his breath about fake grief and acting classes.
“No. I’ve been careful.” Grace stares at me and gives me a wry smile. “Not that it does me any good.”
“I won’t lie to you; things aren’t great. My dad doesn’t believe you’re dead. He said your mother was shedding crocodile tears at your funeral. Your family is offended by the implication that they have gone back on their word.”
A frown creases Grace’s forehead. “There was a funeral?”
I laugh. “Oh, yeah. There was nothing in the coffin, of course. But after a few months of the authorities combing the state park, your family assumed you weren’t coming back. Don’t sell yourself short just because I found you. You’re pretty good at being dead.”
Grace smiles, but it quickly fades. “How bad is it?”
“It’s pretty bad,” I say. “We’re back to fighting over territory. Whenever my men see your dad’s men anywhere close to the disputed area, a gun fight breaks out. Much blood has been spilled.”
“And it’s all because of me,” she says softly.
I keep my silence.
Grace is right, of course. If she didn’t run away, things would be a lot more peaceful. She was being a brat, acting selfishly without thinking about all the lives that were depending on her.
At the end of the meal, the restaurant staff pulls the pod back down. After paying the bill, I excuse myself to visit the restrooms while Grace remains seated at the table.
All things considered, the dinner has gone well. I still have another surprise or two up my sleeves. If my plan goes well, the night should end with Grace in my hotel bed. I can’t wait to spread her legs and bury myself balls deep inside her warm, wet pussy.
For four years, my life has revolved around violence and strife. In what little free time I’ve had, I’ve searched for Grace—not just to end the war but also because I haven’t wanted any other woman since that night at the club.
Now that she’s here with me, in the flesh, a part of me that’s been dead for years has come back to life.
It’s hard to walk wit
h my cock straining the zipper of my pants, but I make it back to our pod.
Except, Grace is gone.
Is she in the restrooms?
I grab a waiter. “Did you see the woman who was sitting here before?”
“Yes, Sir. She left in a hurry.”
“You mean left the restaurant?”
“Yes, Sir. That’s correct,” he clarifies.
What the fuck?
I seize my phone on the table and march out. I should check my messages in case she sent me a text explaining why she had to leave.
When my phone flashes on, my blood runs cold.
Fuck.
There’s no text from Grace, but I know why she left. I start running toward my car. If I don’t catch up to her, it’ll be a long, long time until I see her again.
My phone glows with a message from my dad:
Have you found the dead Esposito girl yet?
Grace
“Hey, how was your . . . outing with your . . . special friend?” Lily asks from the living room. Judging by the Sesame Street jingle playing in the background and the weird phrasing of her question, Jack is probably right there with her.
“Mommy!” Jack yells out with excitement, running out to the hallway on his little, unsteady feet.
God, he’s so tiny. As he hugs my legs, guilt clenches my chest at the thought of exposing him to the world I grew up in.
“Hey, Jack. Mommy misses you too.” I ruffle his hair as I smile to hide my distress.
Lily sees it straight away, though. Her face changes the moment she sets her eyes on me. In a hushed tone, she asks, “Ashley, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”
Glancing at the mirror by the front door, I notice my cheeks are streaked with black mascara. “I can’t talk right now, Lily. I have to go. The taxi’s waiting for me right outside.”
“What?” Lily picks Jack up and rests him against her hip as she follows me into the bedroom. “Where are you going?” For Jack’s sake, she maintains a cheerful voice. “Where’s Mommy going, Jack?”
“We’re going on an adventure, Jack. You like adventures, don’t you?” I jerk the wardrobe doors open and pull out a small, carry-on bag I’ve already packed in case of emergency.
What was I thinking? Why did it take an accidental glance at Matteo’s phone when it glowed with a text message for me to realize I was in danger?
What if I didn’t see it? I would’ve walked straight into his trap, smiling like an idiot the whole time.
He’s a liar. His dad evidently knows about me, and I can safely assume the rest of his family does too.
Lily sets Jack down on the rug. “Ashley, what’s going on? Where are you going? Are you coming back?”
“I don’t know. I can’t—” I rake my hand through my hair. “I can’t think about any of those things right now. All I know is I have to leave.”
“Okay.” She nods. “How can I help you?”
I stare at her.
“Oh, don’t look so surprised,” she says. “You’ve never told me details about your life before moving here. I figured you were running away from something. I’m your friend, and I’m here to help if you need me.”
For a moment, a crazy thought flashes through my mind. I can leave Jack with Lily. She can raise him. He’ll be safe with her. He’ll have a normal life.
Then, it doesn’t matter what happens to me. Matteo can drag me home to present as a gift to his dad, and they can shoot me in the head right in front of my entire family if he wants to.
But I’d be giving up on a simple life with Jack. I’d be giving up on motherhood.
I pull the curtain aside and peek out the window. The cab’s still waiting outside. I can make it.
All I have to do is disappear. There’s no need to overthink it.
I have money in the bag; enough to last me and Jack a couple of years.
I don’t have fake IDs but that’s okay; I can survive without them. Millions of undocumented immigrants in this country thrive without any form of identification.
I can get a job that pays under the table. I can rent a tiny basement room to stretch my money. I’ll be like a cockroach—tough and indestructible.
“Thanks, Lily. I appreciate the offer. But I’ve put you through enough trouble. Any more, and you’d be in danger.” I take Jack from her and carry him on my hip. Jesus, he’s getting heavy.
“Call me any time, okay?” Lily asks over the sound of little wheels rolling over my laminate floor. Her footsteps follow behind me.
I stop at the door and smile at her as she engulfs me in a big, warm hug. “Thank you. You’re a real friend.”
Lily pulls the door open, and I rush outside, glancing one last time at a friend I probably won’t ever see again.
Almost there.
I hurry down the stone walkway. The taxi is right there, smoke puffing out its exhaust.
Almost there.
I walk past the gate. I don’t remember pulling it closed when I walked in.
But whatever. I’m almost there. I can almost taste my freedom.
The cab drives away just as my feet almost hit the sidewalk.
What the hell?
Why?
A chill rips through my body.
There, behind where the cab was parked, is the reason why it drove away.
Matteo.
But he’s not smirking with satisfaction like I imagined he would.
No.
Those dark, dangerous eyes aren’t even focused on me.
Instead, his sharp stare is directed at a small figure attached to my hip. Jack.
This is literally the stuff my nightmares are made of.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Matteo asks in his deep baritone.
“We’re going on an adventure!” Jack exclaims, giggling, oblivious to the danger stalking closer.
“That’s right.” I bend down to let Jack stand on his own feet. Glancing behind us, I notice Lily’s still standing at the door, staring at us with eyes big as saucers. “Why don’t you go back inside for a while, Jack? I’ll get you in a minute, okay?”
“Hi, Jack.” Matteo crouches down, letting the fabric of his designer suit pants scrape against the sidewalk. Smiling, he says, “I’m Matteo. That adventure sounds fun. Are you excited?”
“Yeah.” Jack grins as he nods his little head up and down.
Matteo glances up at me. “Do you like going on adventures with Mommy?”
The blood in my veins runs cold. I was about to pass him off as a nephew or a friend’s son, but Matteo will learn the truth as soon as Jack answers.
“Yeah.”
I tighten my grip around Jack’s little hand. But to my horror, he takes a step forward, closer to Matteo, and reaches out to touch his cufflink.
Damn it. The kid’s like a magpie lately, always grabbing shiny things.
“That’s my family’s emblem,” Matteo says. “You like it?”
“Yeah.” Again, Jack nods enthusiastically. “Shiny.”
Matteo laughs. “Yeah. It is shiny. You can get them in all kinds of shapes. Cars. Airplanes. Ice cream.”
“Ice cream?” Jack asks, obviously awed.
With silly grins on both their faces, I can’t help but notice the resemblance. The dark hair. The sly glimmer in their eyes.
To be honest, I’ve imagined this scene before, hundreds of times. But I never thought Jack’s father was Matteo Guerriero, the mafia prince I was supposed to marry.
“Jack, go back inside,” I say tersely, ignoring the guilt constricting my lungs.
Ever since that phone call I made to Matteo four years ago, I’ve been second-guessing my decision to hide Jack from his own father.
I thought Matteo wouldn’t want anything to do with the grandson of a mobster, especially when he was on the brink of building his own family with another woman. But all my assumptions have turned out to be wrong.
Still, I’m not ready to share Jack with Matteo. I don’t know what to do. There’s no
one I can ask for advice. Lily’s my only friend here, and she doesn’t know anything about my history. She doesn’t even know my real name.
The longer Matteo spends with Jack, the higher the risk he’ll realize I’ve been raising his son in secret. And who knows what will happen after that?
If Matteo sues for custody, God knows I don’t have any money to contest—not unless I go crawling back to my family.
Or he could just kidnap Jack—with or without me. He said he’d leave me alone if I want him to, but it’s unlikely he’d ever knowingly let go of his son.
Either way, if Matteo finds out about Jack, my life as I know it is over.
I look back over my shoulder and find Lily. Catching my gaze, she hurries out to take Jack inside the house with her.
“You never told me you had a kid,” Matteo says, getting up to his feet.
“You never told me your dad knew all along about me.”
Matteo huffs a deep sigh. “You’re right. He knows I’ve been looking for you. But he doesn’t know I’ve found you.”
Does he really expect me to believe that?
“I understand you’re suspicious of me, and now I know why. You have that kid to think of.” For a split second, I catch a gleam of pain in his dark eyes. “Is his father in the picture?”
I shake my head. “No. And this is how I like it. Just me and Jack.”
“I find that hard to believe, seeing as you signed up to a dating agency.”
“That was just because Lil—” Wait a minute. I don’t have to make excuses to Matteo. “What does it matter? Tell me the truth. Does your family know I’m here?”
“No, kitten. Nobody knows. I told you, you’re my secret.” Matteo gazes straight into my eyes. I don’t know how I know, but there’s no doubt in my mind he’s telling the truth.
A sigh escapes from my lungs, and I suddenly realize I’d been holding in my breath. My muscles relax. “Does he know where you are, though?”
“He does,” Matteo says. “But I’ve spent the past four years going all over the country, looking for you. He thinks I’m wasting my time. He truly believes you will never be found.”
“Are you going to tell him?”
