by Sophia Reed
Luca had seemed hesitant to let me go back to running errands like I used to, but I’d convinced him I was up for the challenge. If he knew about this, he’d relegate me to off-duty status again. And I was going stir crazy being cooped up all the time. I needed to get out of this house and away from anyone wearing a white coat or scrubs for a while.
My eldest brother was the patriarch of our clan and a much more equitable and even-handed leader than our father ever had been. I appreciated that fact, and unlike Angelo, I knew Luca gave a damn about me. So did Sandro and Gabriel. Hell, Molly did, too, for that matter. Unfortunately, that also meant they seemed to delight in sticking their noses into my affairs.
Especially where my health was concerned.
But I knew how to handle this. The best defense was always a good offense. “Antonio okay?” I asked her.
“Yeah, he’s fine. Just needs to burp, and I didn’t want to wake Luca or Anna. Where are you going?”
“To the gym.”
“At two in the morning? And in your dress slacks?” she asked, incredulous. Dammit, I was too tired to think of a plausible story. How could I get out of this?
“I couldn’t sleep, Queenie,” I said, maybe I could fake it till I made it. “I thought I’d take a little stroll around the track.”
But she took a step closer, zeroing in on me.
“Are you feeling okay?”
Christ, how many times was I going to be asked that in one day? “Yep.”
Antonio began to work himself up to a full cry, stealing her attention. Thank God. I took a step backwards, then another. By the time Molly looked back up, I’d made it to the railing of the staircase.
With the exception of a few key security upgrades, our new mansion was almost an exact replica of the old one; Luca had done it intentionally, wanting to bring back the familiarity of home and make everyone feel safe again at the same time.
He’d been successful for the most part.
“Hope the little man gets his bubble out,” I said, then started upstairs. As soon as Molly turned her back, I switched directions and headed down to Greta’s room. I knew she was probably asleep, but I needed her. I already had to spend half my time at the hospital, at clinics for follow ups, and in doctor’s offices. If I could avoid yet another visit, I would.
Greta answered her door almost immediately, telling me she’d been up. Looked like half the house was either awake due to extenuating circumstances or suffering from some form of insomnia tonight.
She applied several different fixes, everything from butterfly bandages to some numbing lidocaine cream, and covered it all back up with nonstick gauze. She escorted me back to my room, made sure I took my regular dose of antibiotics, patted my head like I was five again, then left, closing my door behind her.
Grateful beyond belief for my old nanny and struggling to keep my eyes open, I finally slid face first onto my mattress, and within seconds, I knew nothing more.
7
Kelly
Why did I kiss him?
Those five words had raced through my head on repeat all night long, keeping me awake when all I wanted to do was sleep. I relived that bizarre moment over and over, trying to identify what had made me lose my common sense. Normally, I was a practical girl. I didn’t sit around and pretend to be somewhere else. I didn’t waste time or money on frivolous pursuits.
I knew what I had to do, and I went out and did it. That’s who I was.
So whatever possessed me to lay one on the new owner of the business I worked for was beyond me. Not that it’d been passionate or anything. There hadn’t actually been much to the kiss at all, just a split second of my lips to his. I barely even made contact.
But I didn’t know why I’d done it. Why I’d felt compelled to do it. Had I meant it as a thank you? As a gesture of comfort? Had some weird hidden part of my psyche taken over and decided I needed to experience was those firm full lips of his felt like?
Because that wasn’t me. I didn’t kiss anyone. Kissing wasn’t in my wheelhouse. It wasn’t even near my wheelhouse. I didn’t initiate such intimate actions with men. I wasn’t open to receiving them, either. I just didn’t go there. Ever.
My high school boyfriend Steven had been the last person I’d shared a kiss with. Steven had been perfect for me. At least on paper. He’d been a straight-A student, a member of every academic club, and both my parents adored him. Adored. Him. He’d been one of those rare somethings they agreed on. When he’d kissed me, though, I’d been tremendously disappointed.
There’d been no sparks and nothing special.
Worse, he apparently decided to heat things up a bit by French kissing me. I’d heard of French kissing. I’d seen others do it. I’d even thought I might like it. But I didn’t. Not the way he did it, anyway. He’d stuck not just a little of his tongue into my mouth, but the entire thing. Like, all of his tongue. Yuck.
Honestly, it’d grossed me out.
Since that time, I hadn’t been a fan of kissing. It’d been five years since I’d kissed or been kissed, and I felt thoroughly satisfied with that.
Yet I’d given Marco Varasso one, and as surface level as it was, it’d felt good. Touching his lips with mine had been a unique experience for me.
And for the first time ever, I’d felt something. That spark. The one I’d heard so many others talk about and wax poetic over. It had happened. With my boss.
Lord.
My parents had brought me up to be a nice girl. A good girl. Someone with high standards and moral fiber. Someone who didn’t sleep around. A girl who didn’t make waves or get into trouble.
And I’d always been that. I couldn’t stand the notion of not meeting someone else’s expectations. I couldn’t imagine letting anyone down.
Yet, I’d watched so many of my peers do whatever they’d wanted. They’d broken rules. They’d had parties where people got drunk or high and more often than not had sex. Some had even skirted around or outright broken the law by vandalizing school property or getting involved in other petty crimes.
Not me, though. I hadn’t wanted to go down a bad road. I didn’t want others to look at me and think I was anything but Brian and Amy Carr’s well-behaved daughter. My parents might not have money, and they might not have created harmony within our home. But they’d raised their children to be decent, upstanding members of society, and we were.
Both David and me. I always figured that the reason he went into law enforcement right out of high school was to build the positive reputation of the Carr name. Even if we didn’t have much else, we had that.
And didn’t that count for something?
After beating myself up all night for my colossal lapse in judgment, I met my brother for breakfast. We both had late shifts that day. I needed to talk about what I’d done, to get some feedback about what that kiss meant, but I’d wait till I could discuss that juicy tidbit with Chloe and Laura.
David would never understand. He knew how I was with men and would probably think I’d gone off the deep end. Or that I’d become easy. And such a thing would devastate me. It’d alter the way he saw me as his little sister.
I had questions about who Marco Varasso was, though, questions I felt my brother might be able to answer. Still, as we meandered along the curved paths of the park as usual, I knew I had to be extremely careful in the way I brought up the subject.
Casual would be good. Or vague. Vague would be better. Yes, I’d go for vague.
“Have you ever heard of a family named Varasso?” I asked him, pretending not to care either way and doing my best to not fixate on the man who’d utterly taken over every thought in my brain.
“The Varasso’s are nothing but trouble,” he said promptly, making me goggle at him. “Why?”
“Define ‘nothing but trouble.’”
“Well, it’s hard to nail down any proof, but they’re some major players in a lot of the organized crime that goes down.”
“What? You mean like the mob?�
� I asked him, taken aback.
“Yeah, though we can never get anything conclusive on them. I think they’ve bought off half the damn city, so even if they’re ever charged with something—which hasn’t happened in years—it never sticks.”
“What kind of crimes are they suspected of?”
“You name it. Murder, kidnapping, racketeering, money laundering, importing and selling drugs. One Varasso or another has been linked to all those for decades.”
Trying to maintain my cool, I pushed forward. I needed to know more. “So most of this stuff happened a long time ago?”
“Naw, it’s still happening. Probably, anyway. The current generation of Varassos are even shiftier and more slippery than the old one.”
Information. I needed more access to information. I desperately wished I’d had enough money to buy a smart phone. Everyone I knew had one but me, but I could never justify the expense. David had one, though. I was tempted to ask if I could borrow it. Or I could just go to the library when I had time. Of course, I never seemed to have any free time.
My brother’s shoulder mic buzzed with static, the police operator on the radio calling him away. This meant I had an extra thirty minutes that I hadn’t planned on. I decided to make use of it. One of the local library branches was a block and a half down. I hurried in, thrilled to find one of the computers available. I plugged in the name Marco Varasso, then held my breath.
What I found was a mixture of crime reports, an obituary, and an article from the social pages.
Search containing Marco Varasso, Marco Varasso, Marco Varasso:
Angelo Varasso, one of Philadelphia’s wealthiest businessmen, died at his home near City Center Thursday. Witnesses stated that a gun he’d been cleaning was discharged by accident, striking him in the head. Varasso was declared dead at the scene.
Memorial services for Angelo Varasso were held at St. Bartholomew’s Church at 3pm last Tuesday. He was 60. His wife, Valentina, proceeded him in death by fourteen years. He is survived by four sons: Luca, Marco, Gabriel, and Alessandro.
VARASSO ESTATE UP IN FLAMES. The sprawling Varasso estate was set ablaze last Monday according to authorities. The probable cause is suspected as arson. The blaze was instigated just before dawn while several of the home’s occupants were sleeping. One death, a housekeeper by the name of Francesca Salvatore, was reported. Six occupants of the house were treated for minor injuries and smoke inhalation at the scene, while two additional occupants, Luca Varasso and Marco Varasso were admitted to the Thomas Jefferson University Hospital’s Jefferson Health facility with more extensive injuries. Both are in serious but stable condition.
WEDDING NEWS. Luca Varasso and Molly Greene were united in matrimony on Saturday, April 12th at Fairmount Park. The nuptials were attended by a small group of close family and friends, including the groom’s daughter from a previous relationship, and the groom’s three brothers: Marco, Gabriel and Alessandro. A reception was held for the couple at the Liberty View at Independence Visitor Center.
LOCAL BILLIONAIRE BUSINESSMAN BEGINS CHARITABLE ORGANIZATION. Luca Varasso, heir of the late Angelo Varasso, broke records this past month when he started the Varasso Good Works Initiative, a nonprofit organization dedicated to helping Philadelphians in need. VGWI will be providing support to area churches, shelters, food banks, and various charities as well as offering scholarships to high school seniors within the city looking to advance their educations. When asked why he began this nonprofit, Varasso had this to say, “I simply wanted to do something good, and my family’s support of this initiative will be ongoing.”
I read over the collection of articles twice, committing them to memory. There was nothing obviously criminal about what had been reported, but I knew David would have access to reports that I didn’t. Was it all hearsay, though? Was Marco Varasso really affiliated with the mafia?
I didn’t doubt my brother, and he had no reason to lie, but I didn’t want to believe such a thing about the man I’d kissed last night. Yes, he was intense. Yes, he clearly came from an affluent background. And yes, he’d bought Organic Eats with cash money.
But that didn’t automatically make him a criminal. Did it?
Could he be what my brother said? A mobster? Him? The time I’d spent with him made me want to say no. The man had been kind to me, protective of me, despite him being in pain. Which meant he had to be one of the good guys.
Right?
Maybe some members of his family had been criminals in the past, but that didn’t necessarily make Marco one. I didn’t want to think of him that way, as guilty by association. Besides, his brother had even started a nonprofit donating funds to important local causes.
That didn’t sound like the hallmark of some mafia thug to me.
The moment I burst through the door of Organic Eats, I hunted around for the man in question. I didn’t see him, so I went up to Laura.
“Our new owner around?”
“Not today. What’s up?” she asked, and I told her. I told her about everything I’d read about him, about what David had said, and then, I told her about the kiss.
“Your brother is always looking for crime and conspiracies. It’s his job. But it doesn’t mean he’s right about this. So let’s focus on what matters here. You finally kissed someone, girl! I mean, damn, it’s about time.” Laura hugged me, her face as excited as if I’d given her a winning ticket to the lottery.
“But don’t you think I was wrong for being so forward? Wasn’t that like, way out of character for me?”
“The only wrong thing about that kiss is that it took you this long to do it,” Laura said, keeping her voice low so our patrons wouldn’t hear. “You never let your hair down or have any fun. I’m kinda astonished you haven’t spontaneously combusted from all that unfulfilled sexual desire before now. We all have needs, sweetie pie, and you’re just as human as the rest of us.”
My cheeks instantly felt inflamed, especially when business became slow enough for Chloe to come up and join the conversation. “What we talking about?” she asked, and Laura shared my whole sordid tale. “Oh, honey, please, for once in your life, live a little.”
“I live a lot,” I protested, but Chloe shook her head.
“No, you don’t. You live like a cloistered twelve-year-old. You’re either here, at home, or maybe at the park… with your brother. You never took a vow, but you act like you have. I mean, one repulsive tongue kiss should not a lifetime of celibacy make.”
What was it about all these nun references? “I never said I’d be celibate for the rest of my life.”
“Do you even know how appallingly rare it is to be a twenty-three-year-old virgin?” Laura added, making me feel like a freak.
“Just because I’ve been saving myself—”
Laura grabbed my arm, cutting me off. “But you haven’t been. That’s the thing. You gave up on men. On relationships. On happiness. On finding anything meaningful for yourself. You’ve let the demands of your parents keep you from living your own life.” Chloe nudged her and threw her a look, and suddenly I realized they’d been discussing this behind my back.
It made me want to lash out at them, to get in their faces and object to their sneakiness. But that wasn’t me. I never lashed out at anyone. I never got in anyone’s face. Anger was one of those emotions I chose not to express very often.
If at all.
Even though the comment about my parents reminded me of something David might say, I couldn’t see how losing my virginity equaled living my own life. My friends acted as if sex was this end all be all, but my parents seemed to feel the opposite was true. Especially my mom. She’d always told me sex was dirty. Nasty, even. If it hadn’t been required to produce David and me, I was fairly certain she never would’ve had it.
And because my only experiences in that arena had been less than stellar, I tended to believe her. I’d never once been tempted to give up my V card to anyone. My kiss with Marco hadn’t changed that.
E
ven if for the first time since I’d been a teenager, I did wonder what it might be like to do some more exploring. But I didn’t feel ready to admit that.
Knowing it was time to switch tactics, I focused on Chloe since I already knew Laura’s opinion. “So do you think there’s any validity to what David said? Is our new owner dangerous? A real, live mobster?”
She didn’t get to answer, though, because at that precise moment, said new owner strode into the building. My eyes were drawn to him like a magnet. I wanted to know if I could visually spot any indications of his true nature, any tells about his possible involvement in nefarious activities.
I studied him, noticing that he wore a similar suit to the one I saw him in yesterday. He seemed to be moving more easily today, as if the pain he’d been experiencing the day before had lessened. His gait was purposeful as he crossed the room, intent. He had such a confident air about him, an inborn self-assuredness I envied.
He had a strong presence overall and a handsome profile with that square clean-shaven jaw of his, combined with one of those straight Roman noses. His short black hair looked damp and curled just a bit at the nape of his neck. I felt this strange need to thread my fingers into it and shoved my hands behind my back.
Then he turned and I took in the subtle cleft in his chin, how deep set his dark eyes were, and the firm fullness of his lips. Lips I’d already felt on mine. Lips I’d like to feel on mine again.
Whoa, had I really allowed myself to think that?
I was losing my ever-lovin’ marbles.
And then, his gaze lifted and found me. Those lips quirked upwards, and he nodded toward the office area. There were two offices in the back, Ian’s old office and a cash office with a safe. I’d traveled halfway to him before I even realized I’d taken a step. But I couldn’t talk to him. I didn’t feel prepared.
Even though I didn’t want my brother to be right, what if he was? What if despite what I’d witnessed out of him, Marco Varasso didn’t end up being a decent guy? What if he was a threat? A wolf in sheep’s clothing?
