Love and Lead

by Coralee June

  She was staying in the room next to Gavriel. The dark mahogany door was shut, and we all stood in the hallway outside it, awkward silence filling the space as Gavriel reached out to grab the handle. Blaise shot out his hand and gripped Gavriel’s wrist, stopping him from opening the door.

  “Sheesh, Gav. She’s nineteen and in a bedroom with Nix. Unless you want to add catching your sister getting spanked to the list of things you need to talk to a therapist about, I suggest you fucking knock first,” he said with a chuckle. I think he meant to make Gavriel laugh, but all my badass-mafia-control-freak of a pretend husband did was grow red with anger, practically shaking as he knocked three times on the door.

  “It’s open,” a soft voice replied on the other side, sounding nothing like what I’d expected from a Moretti.

  We walked in tentatively, shuffling our feet across the carpet like we could somehow not disturb her more if we were quiet. Once I got a good look at the room, I noticed that she was sitting up in bed, and Nix was off to the right of her, cutting up her pancakes like the fluffy food was difficult to navigate.

  And I knew then that Phoenix Bailey was in love with Grace Moretti.

  Not the sort of friendship love that we had. No, he loved her. It was all in the way his dark eyes assessed her every move. It was in the way he looked at Gavriel with wordless fury, daring him to upset her even slightly. Phoenix loved her, and I don’t even think he knew it yet.

  “Aw Gav, did you miss me?” she asked, using a tone that sort of pushed enthusiasm over her tongue.

  Gavriel looked around the small, contemporary-style room before responding. “I...I was worried about you. I’m so thankful you’re back,” he said in a voice so low that I knew it had nothing to do with the smoke inhalation injury and everything to do with how difficult it was for him to express himself. Grace’s red eyebrows shot up in surprise, making the scatter of freckles on her face move, too. It looked like constellations on her pale skin.

  She was wearing a white tank top, and she pushed the covers down, sliding her sock-covered feet over the edge of the bed before standing. Nix looked between them, as if trying to dissect what was said that made her want to get out of bed while thinking of ways to punish Gavriel for it. She looked scarily skinny, and I wondered if it was from the time spent in Santobello’s captivity, or if she was naturally slender. It didn’t detract from her beauty though. And now that she wasn’t in Nix’s arms, I could really see her.

  “You were worried?” she asked incredulously, making me wonder even more about their dynamic. Even at Gavriel’s worst, I understood his undying loyalty to me. Didn’t Grace understand that he sent his two best friends to her rescue while he was on his deathbed?

  “Of course I was. I would have been there myself, but…” his voice trailed off.

  “I heard. You okay?”

  “Yeah. You?”

  “Definitely.”

  So they were a family of prideful liars. Lovely. Nix stared at her for a moment, adoration clear across his face before his eyes met mine, and he shook away the trance he was in.

  “Sunshine? I’m such a shitty friend, I didn’t even…” he maneuvered around the bed, sweats hanging low on his hips and a black shirt snug against his muscular torso. “Are you okay? God, I missed you. We can’t go more than like three days tops away from one another again. I swear I was going crazy,” he cooed before wrapping me up in a big hug. I held him tightly, not realizing that tears were filling my eyes as I slipped into the easy comfort that Nix provided. “I missed you so much,” he whispered.

  “I missed you too,” I whispered back, choking up a bit. We held each other for a moment longer until a cough made us pull apart. I was wiping the tears from my eyes when I caught Grace’s curious stare. She looked...apprehensive.

  Nix cleared his throat and looked between us with obvious pride, like having us in the same place at the same time was fulfilling some sort of deep-seated need within him. “Sunshine, this is Grace Moretti,” he said while placing a hand at my lower back and guiding me closer. “Grace, this is Sunshine. My soulmate. Best friend. Family. Spirit animal. Crazy other half I feel wildly responsible for.”

  Grace and I looked at each other, not as if we were sizing each other up, more like trying to figure out where to go from this. What do you say to the love of your best friend’s life? Who just so happened to be your fake husband's sister?

  "I've heard a lot about you," I lied. If I was being honest, Gavriel omitted a lot of information about her. In fact, I sometimes forgot he even had a sister. I wasn't sure if he was trying to protect her, or if they just didn't have the sort of relationship that required talking to one another. Either way, I sensed that she saw through my thin pleasantry the moment I said it. "You have? Didn’t think Gavriel remembered he even had a sister most days,” she said in a teasing tone. There was a slight Southern accent in her voice, similar to Blaise when he got mad. It sounded nice, and her green eyes were deep and penetrating as she stared at me.

  "Well, not really. But Nix seems to like you, which is really all the information I need." I shrugged to emphasize my point. Gavriel looked between us with trepidation. I sensed that he would rather be anywhere but here. We never had the awkward meet your family stage of a relationship, it was one of the perks of dysfunction. The Bullets and I didn't do normalcy. That was reserved for Callum and me. But now Callum was a Bullet, and everything was just fucked-up.

  "I guess if Nix and you are a package deal, that's all I really need to know," she replied with a small smile that said she liked Phoenix about as much as he liked her. She was just more open to the idea than he was, apparently. I made a mental note to have a conversation with him later.

  "Are you okay?" I asked, feeling silly for doing that compulsive pleasantry thing again. I felt like I had to ask. I didn't know Grace, and she didn't know me, and yet I felt this need to check on her the same way I was always checking on Gavriel. I wondered if they both would respond the same.

  "My time at Santobello’s manor wasn't terribly bad. I mean, he's mean—for sure. He would yell at me. I also saw some things I can't unsee. Right now, I'm just weak because I refused to eat."

  Nix interjected with a frown, "Stubborn ass," he said under his breath.

  “The hardest part about being there was figuring out who to trust, wondering if anyone was going to save me, and trying to get information. Alessandro's a decent guy, by the way," Grace said before turning to stare at Gavriel. "He saved my life. And what he was saying is true, your father knows his mom, and she has the answers to bringing down Santobello. I overheard him talking about her, actually," she said.

  “Our father,” Gavriel corrected her, making an awkward silence fall over us.

  “My father is dead,” Grace finally replied.

  This obviously was a confrontation for another time. Nix and I exchanged a silent conversation, and I stepped up to change the subject. What sort of information could this woman—Alessandro’s mother—have? Was it all a setup? I hated how everything made me question everything about the world. Nothing was ever black and white anymore.

  "Santobello was sitting in the lounge and talking to one of his bounty hunters. Apparently, since pissing you off, he's put a little overtime into finding her. I think he knows you're going to look for her. But she has something that Santobello doesn't want to get out, which means you need to find her before he does," Grace added.

  Gavriel nodded his head, his signature wordless move lately. Talking hurt too much, and there was enough said in the tiny gesture. He obviously trusted his sister's word, more so than Alessandro. I just didn't know how he felt about seeing his father in prison again.

  "You know I'm not letting you go with me, right?" he said. But I wasn't sure if he was telling that to me or his sister. He looked between us, emphasizing his point with a scowl. It was then that I felt Blaise stand next to me, crossing his arms over his chest before giving Gavriel a playful smile.

  "Do you honestly think
our girl is going to let you go anywhere without her?" he asked before leaning in and giving me a kiss on the cheek. "Besides, aren't you guys kind of married or something? For better or worse, man," he said before tickling my side. Grace just looked between us all with curiosity, opening and closing her mouth, as if wondering what the dynamic was. I wondered if she knew about me at all. Did Gavriel ever mention the girl from his past?

  Just as she was about to speak (or probably ask about the nature of our relationship), of course Ryker had to enter the room. He was shirtless, looking sexy as always. The tattoos covering his torso were temptingly beautiful in the morning light filtering through Grace's windows. The short hair that was starting to grow back looked slightly ruffled, and the bags under his eyes didn't detract from his handsomeness.

  "Sunshine, I got scared when you weren't in bed this morning," he said before running his hand across his scalp.

  I forced a smile before swallowing the anxiety in my stomach. The Bullets and I had never had to explain our relationship to anyone, and now that it was out in the open, it felt a little different. I wasn’t afraid of judgment. Other people's opinions didn't necessarily bother me. Trying to live up to my parents’ unattainable expectations released me from the burden of letting other people have that sort of power in my life. And yet, watching Grace try to puzzle through it all both amused and terrified me.

  "So, you're married to my brother?" she finally decided on asking, avoiding Blaise’s and Ryker’s stares. Naturally, Ryker straightened, going rigid with unease and staring blatantly at me.

  Gavriel answered without hesitation, "Yes," but Nix rolled his eyes, wordlessly chastising him with his body language before responding.

  "If you think you're getting off easy and copping out on a proper proposal to my girl, you got another thing coming. You have to ask my permission. You’re gonna ride up on a fucking horse and ask for her hand after an over-the-top speech with a ring the size of my fist. I expect to be the guy of honor. So no, you aren't married. But if you want to pretend, that's fine, I suppose." I couldn't help but wonder if Nix spending all that time with Blaise had made him a little more honest. I bit my cheek while Grace still looked at us.

  “Also, Sweets?” Nix said, directing his attention to me.

  “Yeah?”

  “I know, in the moment, everything was chaotic. But for the love of Chris Hemsworth, please pick better names when you’re faking an identity. You know Gavriel is on three FBI watch lists? The second a “Moretti” involved in a fire that killed a politician popped up, shit got real. I don’t think I slept for like three days straight. It’s a good thing he was all wrapped up and was in and out of surgery the first few days. It also helped that Santobello wanted to cover it up as much as we did. I owe Callum a blow job for pulling some strings.”

  I let out a choked laugh. “I wanted his name. But in the future I’ll pick Susan, Debora, or Megan Smith.”

  “If we are planning a wedding, I’m not wearing an ugly dress and shit,” Grace interjected, easily slipping into the playfulness of the conversation.

  "She's dating all of us," Blaise explained, wanting to put his two cents in. "There's a fourth member of this little harem, but I'm not sure if he’s still in or out? We need to have an official family meeting to discuss the logistics," Blaise joked.

  I looked around the room, wondering how we went from talking about murderous mob bosses to the unique particulars of our relationship, and I couldn't help but laugh.

  "Yeah, what he said." My eloquent response seemed to amuse Grace because she simply smiled at all of us.

  "Well, I guess we should go discuss travel plans. Seems you and I need to convince my asshole, controlling brother that we need to be there for his little meeting with dear old dad. There's no way in hell I'm letting him go alone to see that bastard."

  Well, all right then. Perhaps I was going to like Grace a lot after all.

  Chapter Eight

  “You finally getting out of the house?” a rough voice asked me from the doorway of the guest bedroom. I was busy packing a suitcase and preparing for our trip to New York where Mr. Moretti was at a federal prison. I looked up with a smile, instantly recognizing who it was.

  “Joe. You look good,” I said before stepping away and walking up to give him a hug. He healed well from getting shot but still hadn’t come back to work. This was the first time I’d seen him live and in person since the attack at Blaise’s apartment.

  Mrs. Joe was determined to video chat with me almost daily, checking in on Gavriel like he was her own son. Gav pretended to hate her attention, but I got the sense that he secretly adored and respected her. I wondered why they didn’t adopt him when his father went to prison. Maybe it was safer at the Jamesons’.

  “Wish I could say the same about you,” he grumbled before taking a step back to look me over. He wrapped his fingers around my arm to highlight how skinny I’d gotten. He wasn’t wrong. I needed some ice cream dates—ones where he scowled at me from across the restaurant.

  “Where’s Mrs. Joe?” I asked. I told them about two weeks ago that that was my nickname for Sherrie, and it stuck. She informed me that she’d prefer I call her that from now on. “I’m surprised she let you out of her sight.”

  “I didn’t,” a voice said from behind his bulky frame in the doorway. I gently pushed him to the side immediately then looked behind him. Mrs. Joe was a petite woman. She was wearing a knit sweater and had black and grey hair, pulled up into a braided bun. She had dark eyes, thick lashes, and plum-colored lips. Her teeth were crooked, and her smile held a smidge of warm mischief.

  “Mrs. Joe!” I squealed. I’d imagined kinship with these people since the moment I decided that I liked Joe—which was when he ate ice cream at the hospital back when Ryker still hated me. Something about them called to me, and I wanted nothing more than to be accepted by Joe and Sherrie. She wasted no time and enveloped me in a hug; it might have been our first meeting in person, but there was no awkwardness. “It’s so nice to meet you finally!”

  She pulled away, keeping her hands braced on my arms as she looked me over. “You’re even more beautiful in person. Joe’s been bugging me to let him come here since Gavriel’s...accident. He’s not good at the feelings stuff—not like I am—but he cares for you, you know. Poor idiot had cabin fever, feeling all helpless while you handled this on your own. I’m so sorry, honey.”

  It was odd, receiving such affection from a motherly figure. It reminded me that my own mother never would have welcomed me with such compassion and understanding. Sherrie reminded me of everything my own blood wasn’t. It both comforted and saddened me. Either way, I’d take whatever sense of family I could get.

  I turned to look over my shoulder at Joe, who was staring apprehensively at us. “Yeah, yeah,” he finally said with a wave of his hand.

  “Once we got word that Grace was back, I decided he was finally well enough to travel. Your friend Nix said that she’s asleep, so I wanted to take a moment and chat with you before she wakes up,” Mrs. Joe said. Joe looked between us like the impending emotional conversation already had him on edge. He had a sixth sense about feelings.

  “You can stand outside in the hall, Joe,” I said at the exact time that Mrs. Joe said, “You don’t have to be here for this, dear.”

  We exchanged a conspiratorial smile together, and I knew that I picked worthy candidates for my pretend family. Mrs. Joe looked around the room, clicking her tongue at my clothes scattered on the floor, then immediately began picking things up and folding them for my suitcase. “I heard that you’ll be going to see Mr. Moretti soon?” she asked, an ominous tone to her voice.

  “Yes? Should I be worried?” I asked.

  I had tried to ask Blaise and Ryker what to expect, but neither of them wanted to elaborate on Moretti Senior. He was still a mystery to me. “We’ve known the Morettis for a while now. My brother actually worked for him. Joe never wanted this job, you know. But when he got back from the war, he c
ouldn’t really function like most. He needed the kind of structure the Morettis provided. He needed a mission, and crime has lots of objectives,” she explained with a dark laugh before folding a black t-shirt of mine and sitting down on the bed, patting the spot next to her and encouraging me to sit, too.

  I made my way over to her, and when I sat down, her perfume wafted towards me, the smell making my eyes water. I’d have recognized that scent anywhere. Chanel No. 5, the same fragrance my mother wore. What a cruel joke. “Joe and I could never have kids of our own. So when Gavriel was born, I sort of took him under my wing. We didn’t know about Grace, or we would have done the same for her. Her mother was...flighty...but she did well keeping her away from all of this.” Mrs. Joe waved her hand around the room, as if to emphasize her point.

  I was curious if any other Moretti legacies were running around. If Gavriel’s father looked anything like him, I’m sure many women were chasing him down. Handsome, powerful men had a certain allure about them. Hell, I was a victim of that allure myself.

  “I’m glad Gavriel had you,” I said, encouraging her to continue.

  “I wish I could have done more. I’m sure you know this, but my Gav was exposed to a lot of pain as a child. He was always trying to live up to his father’s expectations of him, always trying to be the best. In many ways, it made Gavriel the controlling person he is today. He expects perfection, and he thinks he can dictate everyone’s lives to obtain it.”

  I nodded, storing this information in my mind to remind myself to have grace for Gavriel when he lashed out. I knew that we were all a product of our childhoods. I couldn’t help but wonder if it shaped the way I was. Did I demand perfection and stick to my image like my mother? Was I critical of myself and of others? Did I tie myself to men that would ultimately hurt me?