Vendetta (The DeLuca Family #2)

by K. A. Ware

  We spent hours wrapped up in each other, apologizing and making promises with our bodies that our voices didn’t have the courage to make yet.

  19

  Enzo

  Present

  For the second time, and hopefully not the last, I woke up with the woman I loved plastered to my side. Being with her again felt right. I had missed her, but I didn’t realize how much until I finally got her in my arms again.

  There were still things we needed to figure out, but we had time. I wasn’t going anywhere and I sure as hell wasn’t letting her go again. We needed to find out who the stalker was and be done with it.

  I laid in the morning sun staring at the ceiling and racking my brain for clues about who this guy could be, and the same as every other time, I came up with nothing. I was missing something; I just didn’t know what. Maybe there was something she hadn’t thought to tell us about. There had to be something this guy left behind, a clue to who he was, no one was a ghost.

  Frankie stirred next to me and I shifted to get a better look at her.

  “Good morning,” I said smiling down at her.

  “What time is it,” she asked groggily.

  “We’ve got time before we have to get up,” I said reaching for her.

  “I asked you what time it was, not whether we had time for round three,” she grumbled into the pillow.

  Apparently I haven’t fucked the snark out of her yet.

  “It’s six, and it would be round four, not three.”

  “Oh yeah, I forgot. You should probably try harder next time,” she said propping her head up with a hand.

  I growled and launched myself at her, rolling us both so she was pinned beneath me. She screamed and pretended to struggle but she was laughing so hard it wasn’t much of a fight before I had her wrists caught in my much bigger hands above her head.

  “Try harder, huh?” I teased, running my nose up the length of her neck before kissing the spot just below her ear and making her squirm.

  “It’s okay,” she breathed. “You’re just kind of rusty; I’m sure you’ll get better.”

  “Is that so? Is that why I had you screaming my name—what was it—five or six times last night?” I asked securing her wrists in one hand so the other could roam her body.

  “I’m good at f-faking,” she stumbled on the last word, still trying to keep up the charade as my free hand hitched her knee up around my hip.

  “Liar. I know your body better than you do. You couldn’t fool me if you tried,” I whispered, my words ghosting over her breast before I dipped my head and took one peak into my mouth.

  Frankie let out a cross between a squeak and a moan, arching her back and pushing herself closer to me. “Kind of cocky, don’t you think?”

  “Hmm,” I groaned, releasing her nipple. “Confident, not cocky,” I said before rolling off her and climbing out of the bed.

  “What are you doing?” she asked sitting up. Her hair was a nest of tangles around her face, black makeup smudged beneath her eyes. She looked like a mess, but she was still beautiful. It almost made me want to crawl back into bed and show her just how well I knew her body. Almost.

  “We have to get ready for work,” I said with a smirk and started towards the bathroom.

  “Cocksucker,” she muttered just before I felt a pillow hit the back of my head.

  I laughed and chucked the pillow back at her. “After last night, I’m pretty sure that title belongs to you,” I called over my shoulder, making it into the bathroom just in time to escape the next pillow being hurled my way.

  I flipped on the tap in the shower and waited for it to heat up as I pulled a towel from the cabinet. When I turned back to the shower I caught Frankie’s backside just as she slipped into the glass stall before closing the door.

  “Thanks for heating up the water for me,” she called out, and I couldn’t help but laugh. Things were okay. There wasn’t any of the awkwardness that had been there before; it was just us. My laughter died in my throat when I saw her silhouette arch to wet her hair through the frosted glass. Before I even registered what I was doing, I pulled open the door and slipped in behind her.

  So much for making her wait for it.

  * * *

  “Dinner two nights in a row? I could get used to this,” I said coming up behind her to see what she was cooking.

  “Shut up,” she said, slapping my hand away when I made to pluck a tomato out of the salad bowl.

  “I wanted to talk to you about something,” I said trying to keep my voice from giving away my nervousness. We hadn’t talked about it last night and I was suddenly terrified.

  “You with the talking,” she teased with a wave of her hand.

  “I need you to be serious for a second,” I said turning her to face me. Her eyebrows knit in confusion and a little frown pulled at the corners of her mouth.

  “What is it?”

  “Last night, we didn’t. I mean, I didn’t use anything. I guess I just want to know…” I trailed off. I’d never had to have the conversation before because I’d never forgotten protection, but with Frankie it hadn’t even occurred to me.

  I clocked the moment she realized what I was asking because her jaw clenched and her eyes went hard.

  “We’re fine, I’m covered,” she said turning back to the stove.

  What the hell?

  “Hey,” I said gently guiding her back towards me. “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing,” she replied, giving me a thin smile before her eyes wandered to anything and everything but my face.

  “It’s not nothing. Something’s bothering you,” I said, taking her chin and forcing her gaze back to me.

  “I just didn’t think about it either. Kind of unbelievable actually,” she scoffed.

  “It was intense—not a lot of time to think—but I’m clean just so you know,” I said hesitantly. I wasn’t sure what was going on in that head of hers but I wanted to give her whatever peace of mind I could.

  She laughed. “Yeah I didn’t doubt that, but either way it’s too late now. We can fill our penicillin prescriptions together. Maybe the pharmacy offers a twofer.”

  “What?”

  “I’m kidding, relax. We’re all good. Now for the real question,” she said looking straight at me with a serious expression.

  “And that is?”

  “Mashed potatoes or rice with your chicken?”

  “Jesus,” I breathed out, shaking my head at her antics.

  She laughed and turned me around by the shoulders. “Now go take a shower while I finish dinner. You’re all sweaty from your workout.”

  “I thought you liked me sweaty?” I asked as she gave me a shove in the direction of the hallway.

  “I do, just not when I’m eating.”

  “There’s a joke in there somewhere,” I called out and ducked into the hallway before she had a chance to throw something at my head.

  That night I laid awake replaying in my head our conversation from earlier. Something had bothered her, and despite my efforts she wouldn’t tell me what it was. Just kept brushing it off as nothing, but there was something she wasn’t saying, I just didn’t know what it was.

  20

  Frankie

  Age 20

  6 years earlier…

  I’d messed up. I acted like an immature idiot. I was trying to make things easier for both of us by just brushing it off, acting like it was no big deal, but it just blew up in my face. For weeks, I replayed the look on his face when I’d told him it was ‘just sex,’ and the way his expression went from confused to completely blank in the blink of an eye. As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I realized it was the wrong thing to say, but it was too late to take it back.

  The way he looked at me—I couldn’t get it out of my head—like I was something stuck to the bottom of his boot. Then him explaining how he and Eddie had negotiated over me like I was a toy that they couldn’t agree to share, so they put it where neither of them coul
d have it. I hadn’t realized how easy it was for the person you loved to make you feel worthless.

  It was as if the butterflies, that I felt every time I heard his voice or read one of his letters, had turned to lead, sinking into a tight ball in the pit of my stomach. I’d pushed him out of my life in a fit of anger and embarrassment and he’d heeded my words, completely disengaging. I’d tried to call, sent texts, emailed, and nothing. Every attempt I made to contact him went unanswered.

  I was still pissed that he’d treated me the way he had, but as angry as I’d been when he left, I knew that I couldn’t stay mad forever. We’d been through so much together, and I couldn’t imagine any version of my reality where he wasn’t a part of my life. I decided to give him time to sort through everything that had happened between us. God knew I needed it. Eventually we would get over the awkwardness and get back to the way things had always been.

  “Nothing will ever be the same again,” I whispered into the silence. I was sitting on the edge of the tub staring at a little plastic stick that had the power to change everything.

  When I was late, I told myself over and over that I was smart and things like this just didn’t happen to smart girls; there had to be a mistake. I never forgot to take my pill—ever. This kind of thing only happened to girls who were careless and flakey, not girls like me. I wasn’t even twenty-one yet, I didn’t know how to be a mom, I didn’t even feel like an adult yet.

  I allowed myself to wallow in self-pity and denial for an hour before I picked up my phone and tried calling him for the hundredth time since he’d left my apartment three weeks ago. I mentally willed him to answer, hoping somehow he would know that I needed him and decide to pick up. It didn’t work. As a last resort, I dialed the number I’d memorized when I was eight, my hand shaking as I listened to it ring out. Finally, the line picked up and a familiar voice greeted me.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, it’s Frankie,” I said, my voice shaky.

  “Oh, sweetheart, is everything okay?” Marcella asked, worry in her tone. Must’ve been mother’s intuition or something, but I wasn’t about to pour my heart out to his mother before I even had a chance to talk to him about my situation.

  Our situation.

  I had to remind myself that I wasn’t alone. Just because I couldn’t get a hold of Enzo didn’t mean he would let me go through this by myself once he knew.

  “I’m fine,” I lied. “I just can’t get a hold of Enzo and I was hoping…” I trailed off, not knowing what I had been hoping for.

  “Oh, I, umm. He didn’t tell you?”

  The ball of lead in my stomach grew heavier. “Tell me what?”

  I heard her take a deep breath before she spoke. “He left last week. He’s in the Middle East somewhere, not sure where but you know he can’t tell us that sort of thing. Security and all that,” she rambled.

  The tears I’d been holding back broke through and a sob escaped my lips before I had a chance to muffle it. He’d left. He didn’t even say goodbye. He just left—again.

  “Frankie? Honey, are you okay?” Marcella asked again, her voice strained with concern.

  I cleared my throat and sniffed, wiping my eyes with the sleeve of my sweatshirt as if having a tear free face would make me sound more convincing when the next lie came tumbling through my lips.

  “Yeah, sorry. We’ve been missing each other’s calls. I’m sure he left a message telling me how to contact him. I’ve just been too busy to check them. It’s no big deal.”

  “Well, if you’re sure.”

  “I am. Thanks for letting me know,” I said quickly.

  “Are you sure— “

  “Really, I’m fine. I promise. Listen, I’ve got class in twenty minutes, and I have to go.”

  “All right, love you,” she said softly.

  “Love you too, bye,” I said hurriedly and disconnected before she had a chance to say anything else. I quickly turned off my phone. Marcella was surely already dialing my mom’s number, and she’d be calling to check on me in a matter of minutes. I couldn’t deal with lying to her right now—I’d fall apart.

  It took me four weeks to pluck up the courage to make a doctor’s appointment. It was just a technicality really. I knew I was pregnant, but just the thought of another person knowing before Enzo did made me feel physically sick. Or maybe that was morning sickness, I couldn’t tell.

  The paper on the exam table crinkled under my thighs as I uncomfortably shifted, trying to get comfortable while I waited for the doctor. I was surprised when the nurse asked me to take my clothes off and put on a gown. I’d thought they would just have me pee in a cup or take some blood and that would be that. I wasn’t expecting an exam. My heart thundered in my chest as I looked around the room. There was a 3D model of a baby inside the womb and several posters that depicted the progression of pregnancy. My head started to spin with thoughts of how the fuck something that big was going to come out of me.

  My panic was interrupted by a quick knock on the door. It opened and a middle-aged woman, with blonde hair tied into a tight bun at the base of her neck, walked in. She smiled as she came to sit on the stool in front of the computer.

  “Hello, Francesca. My name is Dr. Decker.”

  “Frankie. Please, call me Frankie,” I said, my voice wobbly with nerves.

  “Okay. So Frankie, according to the urine test, you are, in fact, pregnant,” she said simply, as if she hadn’t just confirmed the end of my life as I knew it. I stared at my hands in my lap, unable to meet her eye.

  “From your reaction,” she continued, “I assume it wasn’t planned?”

  “No,” I whispered, shaking my head.

  “I see. Have you thought about your options?” she asked gently.

  My head snapped up. “No,” I said again, my voice stronger this time.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “There aren’t options. Not for me.”

  Her brow furrowed. “Frankie, honey, only you can make this decision. I’m just here to make sure you have all the information you need to make it, okay?”

  I gave her a tight-lipped smile. “I know. Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not like that. I’m having it, the b-baby that is.”

  She smiled kindly. “All right, so why don’t we get a picture of your baby?”

  “Picture? You can do that? Already, I mean?”

  She laughed. “Yes. Why don’t you lie back and put your feet in these,” she said, pulling up the stirrups from the end of the table. She must have seen the confused look on my face because she continued. “At this stage the only way to get a picture is with an internal sonogram.”

  “A what?” I asked, still not understanding.

  “We insert this wand,” she said, holding up something that looked more like a dildo than a medical instrument. “And the head here is placed up against your cervix. That’s the only way to get a clear picture when the fetus is this small.”

  That sounded like torture, but I really wanted to see what it looked like so I just nodded and laid back as she rolled what looked like a condom over the wand. I decided it was best if I didn’t watch what she was doing and instead tried to make out shapes in the tiled ceiling while she worked.

  “So, where’s the father, if you don’t mind me asking.” I didn’t like the way she made it sound like she already knew the answer before I spoke, like she’d already come to some foregone conclusion about my situation just because I was young. Not that it wouldn’t have been right; but still, it rubbed me the wrong way.

  “My husband is overseas, private security,” I said without thinking. It was true anyways. She didn’t know that I hadn’t actually spoken to him since the conception of this little tadpole.

  “Oh,” she said surprised.

  Neither of us said anything else for a long while as she got everything prepped and calibrated the machine. My face burned with embarrassment and discomfort as she positioned the wand.

  So not the doctor visit I was expecting.<
br />
  “There we go,” she said as a whooshing sound echoed from the machine.

  “That’s the heartbeat and you can see the baby right there,” she explained, pointing to a blob on the screen. “Looks like you’re measuring at right about seven weeks which puts your due date at January fourth.”

  A stubborn tear leaked out of my eye as I listened to the galloping beat and stared at what was apparently my baby.

  My baby.

  Fuck, I was going to be a mother. Enzo was going to be a father. My stomach tightened at the thought. He was on the other side of the world doing God knows what, and he had no idea. I’d tell him, of course—just as soon as he returned one of my calls.

  “Here, I’ll print out some pictures for you to take home,” she said, pulling me from my thoughts.

  “Thank you,” I whispered and tried to discreetly wipe my eyes.

  I left the doctor’s office with four black and white blotchy pictures of my baby and the first smile I’d felt in weeks pulling at my lips. It was short lived because as I drove home the thought that he might think I got pregnant on purpose to trap him had me spinning into a full-blown panic. It had never occurred to me that he might not be happy about the situation. For some reason, my fear had overshadowed any thoughts of his reaction. The more I thought about it, the more I worried about his reaction.

  What if he thought he had to make right by me? We’re already married, what if he wanted to be with me? Would it only be for the baby?

  The idea that he would choose to be with me just because I was pregnant had bile rising in my throat. I didn’t want to trap him, and no matter what he said, I would always wonder if that was the real reason. No, we couldn’t be together. As much as I wanted it, I couldn’t bear the thought that he’d come to resent me. We could just be friends, like before.