Stay

by Chelsea Camaron

  I moved, needing space.

  “Angel, trust me.” At his words, I calmed, moving my hands to his sides.

  His lips made their way back to mine. When he moved to tease me once more, I reached up and gripped his head, pulling him to me and pressing my lips to his. When he groaned, I ran my tongue along the seam of his lips, and he instantly opened for me. With our lips parted, our teeth collided as the passion ignited.

  I arched my breasts into him, no longer a little girl. I was all woman, a woman who knew what she wanted.

  “Giano,” I moaned.

  “Right here, angel,” I heard him say as his fingers found their way to my panties.

  No longer did I wear the cotton panties of a child, but rather the lace thong of a woman. His fingers moved the scrap of fabric over and slid into my slick folds. I moved my legs and hips, seeking more as he teased me.

  “Giano,” I called out.

  “Angel, you’re dreaming again. Wake up,” I heard his voice and began to blink my eyes open.

  My body was on fire with need. I had been so close in my dream, though that was all I could remember. Just like my days lately, my nights were all over the place.

  “Angel, what’s wrong?” he asked as I squirmed beside him.

  “Hot,” I croaked out. “I’m really hot.”

  He pulled the comforter off of us, leaving only the sheet.

  When he started to pull away, I reached out and grabbed him. “Stay,” I whispered, knowing I was probably playing with fire, but I couldn’t have him away from me right now.

  Pulling off his shirt, he laid beside me in only his boxers. His arm extended as he lifted my head and placed me in the crook of his shoulder. His other arm draped down my back as I rolled to my side, facing into him. He began to rub circles on my lower back over the thin camisole I wore.

  My nipples hardened against the fabric as I wrapped my arm around his bare middle, trying to let the steady thumping of his heartbeat lull me to sleep. One Mississippi, two Mississippi, I counted each beat to myself, hoping as I drifted off to dreamland, I would be able to stay in the darkness alone and not get sucked into the things nightmares were made of … or, worse, find myself more on fire with need than I already was.

  “Thank you for staying,” I whispered against his cool skin.

  He pulled away enough to look down at me as I smiled softly up at him. “As long as you need me, I’ll stay.” He kissed my temple then tucked me back into his side tightly. “For you, I’ll always stay.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Silently, I sat back and studied Giano’s hands as he poured his coffee in the morning. Were those the hands of a killer? Were those the fingers that wielded the knife against my father’s neck? The more people talked at school, the more it bothered me.

  My journal entries were no longer about tracking the days here, but rather tracking the comings and goings of Giancarlo Diamante. I felt half insane as I listened to the noises of the night, only to find Giano stayed home more often than he went out. My mind went into overdrive as I attempted to push my sleuthing skills to a higher level.

  After another week of torment at school, full of whispers and shuns, I couldn’t help needing to know more. When all else failed and a girl had questions, where else to find the answers except on the World Wide Web? Even if I didn’t like what I found, knowledge was power. I needed to know who I once was before I could sort out who I would one day become.

  I had lived my life in a bubble of captivity, always trapped by the secrets and lies of my home. If I was ever to break free, I must first find a way to be honest with myself.

  Giano was out for “work” and said not to expect him before bedtime; therefore, I immediately set to work. The desktop computer came to life, the block dancing on the screen, daring me to type and click search.

  I began where my heart felt safe.

  Nicholi James Valencia.

  Nothing shocked me at first. He had been a proud Italian-American business owner who imported fabrics to the east coast here in New Jersey. He had been married to his wife Alessandra Valencia for forty-two years before she died of cancer. He never remarried. They’d had one son, James Nicholi Valencia, who inherited Valencia Fabrics upon his father’s untimely death.

  That was where my stomach turned, and my heart beat wildly. The article went on to describe in detail the brutal murder of Papa Valencia, the kindest man I had ever known. He had been killed in what looked like a mob hit. More importantly, according to the reporter, it had appeared to be a mob hit due to Valencia’s unwillingness to have any connections to organized crime. Of course, the police would not confirm or deny this speculation, so it was merely the opinion of one reporter.

  My “family business,” as my father had called it, had been clean. The article went on to say that, while deeply saddened at the loss of his father, James Nicholi Valencia would take over Valencia Fabrics and continue to run the family company.

  The pictures of Papa Valencia tugged at my heart. He was a jolly man of tall stature with a slight belly, gray hair, and a gray beard. When he smiled, his entire face seemed to come alive with happiness.

  The pictures of my father hid the monster he had been behind a tailored suit and a sinister smile. He had been every bit the devil himself. My stomach churned at seeing him once again. This was why I had only searched once before, just enough to know what people had assumed happened to Fallyn Nicola Valencia and my family. Looking at the articles then with our family standing proudly together in the pictures made me just as sick as it did now.

  Looking at my father, I found myself turning away multiple times before I could finish reading the article. Nothing made me feel more vulnerable, weaker, and more disgusting than seeing James Nicholi Valencia, even in pictures.

  Going back to the search box, I typed in Valencia Fabrics. Nerves consumed me, and my fingers shook as I moved to grip the mouse and scroll down. The articles were there to show the thriving business—the continued success and even expansion as my father took over. One name continued to pop up time after time, Castillo. More importantly, Remo Castillo, the head of the Castillo family, son to Robert Castillo and father to Paul Castillo. The Castillo family who happened to be the largest known organized crime family still active in New Jersey.

  My mind wandered. Why would Castillo be tied to my grandfather’s business that had at one time been clean? What had happened? Did he have Papa Valencia killed? Someone certainly had. What did any of this have to do with what had happened to the business? To me? To my parents?

  The next search revealed how our deaths were portrayed and was shocking, despite the fact that I had seen some of it years ago when I searched. My parents had both died in a house fire. Although my remains were never found, those of my father were found so close to my bed the investigators felt it safe to assume he was attempting to rescue me and failed. It was a tragedy that our wonderful, loving family had all died together due to a gas leak and faulty wiring in our home.

  Only, none of that is true, I wanted to scream at the computer. Did it matter? No, none of it did, nor did it change anything in my current situation. Looking at the clock, hours had passed by as I had read article after article, all saying a different version of the same material. I shut down the computer and made my way to my room to ready for bed.

  After a shower and changing into my nightgown, I stood at the window and gazed into the night sky. With the curtain in hand, I counted the stars as I thought of Papa Valencia’s smile. Closing my eyes, I imagined him with me now. Then my thoughts went to Angelina who had died with her mother, the accidental victims of a violent world.

  Why them? Had Giancarlo been the intended victim? Had an innocent young girl with a full life ahead of her had been taken at the whims of some men in suits for some power play? That seemed like a cruel hand in life to be dealt. My innocence was gone before I ever realized it had existed, and hers had been taken before she could hold on to it.

  “What a twisted f
ate we were handed, Angelina,” I whispered to my room as if my imaginary friend could somehow hear me.

  A thought hit me that I hadn’t pondered in all these years: if Angelina had died due to an association with Giano, was I now a target, as well? Had I been living in a false sense of security this entire time?

  After a night of tossing and turning, I woke up and readied myself for another day of torture at school.

  I had just made it to second period when the intercom buzzed, asking me to come to the office to be checked out for the day. Anxiety filled me. Giano never picked me up early unless I had some sort of appointment.

  What is going on? I wondered as I passed by locker after locker, making my way to the front of the school.

  Giano greeted me instantly with his public smile in place. The charisma oozed off him as he winked at the secretary before wrapping his arm around my shoulder and guiding me outside.

  “Did I forget about an appointment?” I asked once we reached his vehicle.

  “No,” he replied sharply.

  Fear seized me. What in the world had him so on edge?

  “Do you plan to share with me why I am out of school today?”

  “Not until we are home.”

  What had I done? What was wrong? Had we been found out? Were our secrets revealed?

  Without another word, he opened the car door for me to enter and then shut it once I was in. As he rounded the car, I buckled my seatbelt and tried to keep my nerves at bay.

  The car ride was silent, only allowing questions to fill my mind, one after another, as the miles to home passed by. If we had been found out, what would Giano do to me? If he really was a contract killer, would I live to see another day? In all this time, I had grown to trust him, care for him, and not fear him. His current temperament was unlike any before, and I was indeed afraid.

  Arriving home, I was shaking from head to toe in anticipation of what had Giano so on edge.

  He tossed his keys onto the kitchen counter then leaned into the island. “If you had questions, Angel, why not ask me? You seem to have enjoyed the internet some yesterday afternoon.”

  “Umm …” I stumbled to find words. I hadn’t thought about the history or me searching anything on the computer. I had simply wanted information.

  “What do you remember of your grandfather?”

  “He was kind. He was the happiness in my life. Then he was gone. I was told he died and nothing more. I was young.”

  “Searching the web leaves a trail, angel. Every name you entered yesterday is watched on an FBI file and then most likely traced back to find the ISP address.”

  “I didn’t know.”

  “Of course you didn’t. More than that, there are people who are paid to intercept those FBI searches so the feds don’t dig where they shouldn’t. In return, those same people do their own tracing, which then leads me to ask you … What do you remember of your father and his business dealings?”

  I swallowed hard, in over my head. I hadn’t thought of any of this when I had searched. My only focus had been getting the answers to questions I’d had for years.

  “You don’t share anything!” I screeched like a crazed animal. “How was I supposed to know the FBI would want to lock down any computer that dug into my family? We were as normal as I could picture anyone else being.”

  “Nothing about your father was normal,” Giano calmly stated as I began to pace the room.

  “You don’t answer my questions directly. I know nothing of my past. Nothing of my family. Nothing about you.”

  “Sit down,” he commanded sharply, and I immediately obeyed.

  Picking up a napkin from our dining table, I twisted the paper in my hands, trying to stop myself from needing to pace.

  “Are you going to tell me what happened to my family?”

  “Like everything else between us, angel, nothing leaves this house,” he reminded me as if I needed it.

  “We have made it this long together. Please give me something.”

  He sighed, sitting down across from me. “Your grandfather was a good man. He didn’t want to be another Italian-American statistic. He wanted more for his family name. He worked hard and dedicated his life to his company.

  “In my line of work, usually one finds himself loyal to one side. I don’t agree with this tactic, and I have always handled my business one contract at a time. I have no loyalties to anyone but myself and my family. With my skill-set, there is no one better than me; however, I pick and choose my jobs, so I have no commitments beyond one job to the next.

  “A file was given to me and a contract presented. The file was on your grandfather. Your father wanted to tie the company to the Castillo family as a place to filter funds and import drugs. Your grandfather wanted none of it. Greed and power do things to people.”

  Tears filled my eyes as I thought about how hard my grandfather had probably worked to have it all lost in the end, anyway.

  “I refused the job, so Castillo gave your father a new contact. Time passed by. The job was done. However, I was a loose end. Once the case was closed for lack of evidence on your grandfather’s murder, the target became me. I knew who was hired and who did the hiring for the job on your grandfather. A year after your grandfather was killed, your father had the hit put out on me. He thought the space between the two incidences wouldn’t draw attention. Only, they messed up.”

  I gasped. “They didn’t get you. They got your wife and daughter.”

  He simply looked at me and nodded.

  Tears fell down my face. My father’s need for power and money had cost the man in front of me everything.

  “I don’t live in a world of good men. I know that. They took what good I had away … until you.”

  Everything hit me like a ton of bricks crashing over my head. He was in the disposal business. My grandfather hadn’t wanted this life. A torn family ripped even more lives apart.

  “These are not things I wished to share with you. However, if Castillo feels I am still a threat to him, then you are a target. If Castillo figures out my daughter was in the car that day and you are who you are, you are a bigger threat since you are the heir to the company in which he now runs. You are entitled to that business and all its profits. And it is profitable.

  “Given his son’s inability to shut his mouth, I am sure they have scoped us out. With the year you homeschooled, it is easy for them to believe you are Angelina, which is still a dangerous person to be, but Fallyn is a greater risk. I have been following you everywhere to ensure your safety. If one of his goons is watching the computer, your little investigation yesterday may have tipped them off. Stay aware when I am not with you, angel.”

  I was in danger, and I had just made everything worse. Be careful what you ask if you weren’t prepared for the answers—that was today’s life lesson, learned the hard way.

  Chapter Sixteen

  One Year Later

  Graduation

  It took some time, but eventually the rumors stopped. Paul had sex with Mandy and then dumped her last year before prom. Apparently, she didn’t give good head. I didn’t really care. She had tried to talk to me, but I blew her off. With friends like her, who needed enemies? I preferred to be alone. Randi still came over, but she had a new boyfriend, and they spent a lot of time together.

  Today was high school graduation, a milestone I had counted down for. I had recently cut my long hair into a bob style, feeling like I needed a change. Truth be told, I kept looking at the picture of young Angelina on the wall with her long hair much like mine and wishing she was here instead of me. Some days, the lines blurred between remembering Fallyn and existing as Angelina. However, my hair was my own, so I took a leap and made the change.

  After putting on my little black dress with an empire waist and spaghetti straps, I quickly straightened my hair and donned light makeup. Then I stared out of my window solemnly, the lace curtain in my hand.

  The sky was overcast, only adding to the gray feelin
gs I had. What had been my safe haven for so many years now had me on edge. Giano and I hadn’t yet discussed my future with him … or without him. What would the future hold for me? Would I have to be Fallyn or forever be Angelina?

  Thinking of her, I felt the loss once again. She should be here—she would be here—but the decisions of others had taken it all away.

  “Today is your day, Angelina,” I whispered to my friend. “We did it.” I laughed to myself. Without being real, she had been with me every day since I was ten years old.

  I didn’t know what tomorrow would bring. I was technically only sixteen as Fallyn. As Angelina, however, I was a seventeen-year-old high school graduate. I had taken the SATs and even filled out a few collage applications, and I had been accepted to all except one. Well, Angelina Diamante had been. However, I had not yet made a decision on what would come next.

  If I were to continue the charade, I would truly be killing myself. My existence could never be. Although, given the time and the fact that the world thought I was dead, anyways, did it matter? Really, what it all boiled down to was I wanted to stay. More than that, I wanted Giano to want me to stay.

  I heard my bedroom door open, and in walked Giano, looking stellar in a charcoal gray, pinstripe suit with a black, button-up shirt underneath, his dark hair combed back. The years had been good to him. He didn’t look a day over the thirty-four-year-old man he was when I had gotten here almost six years ago. Maybe forty was the new twenty after all.

  “You look beautiful, angel.”

  “Thank you.”

  He extended his hand, holding a box to me. With shaking fingers, I took the turquoise package. Opening the box, I found diamond-studded earrings. Tears filled my eyes. I had never been given such a beautiful gift before. Over time, Giano had given me gifts here and there for birthdays and for Christmas, but nothing this elegant outside of the diamond tennis bracelet a few years ago, a bracelet I wore today.

  Taking the box from my hand, he removed the jewelry. One at a time, he took out my old hoops and inserted the sparkling diamonds. With each touch, my body lit up. What was it about this man? I felt like he reached my soul.