The King

by Taylor Danae Colbert

  As Marlon walks back into the dining room, shaking his head, I freeze.

  "Scarlett?" Dominic asks, letting the other boy he's currently holding in a headlock drop to the floor.

  "Dom?"

  "Ah, so you do know each other," Marlon says, clapping his hands together. "Wonderful. Sal, these two classless buffoons are my sons, Dominic and Giovanni."

  "How do ya do, boys?" my dad says with a tip of an imaginary hat.

  But as they make pleasantries, Dom's eyes don't leave mine.

  "Sunday dinner," he says, putting it together that my plans were here all along. He smiles, and I can't help but reciprocate.

  "Well, everyone, sit down, let's eat," Marlon says. "Scarlett, grab the chair next to Dominic."

  I nod nervously and do as he says.

  Dinner goes off well enough with the two dads competing for the loudest, funniest stories at the table. They talk about how their families came from neighboring towns in Italy, talk about growing up in the city, how they came to know each other—which gets a bit vague, and all of us know not to ask too many questions—and then they talk about us.

  "So, you two met already?" Irene asks, eyeing Dominic and me. We both look at each other and nod simultaneously.

  "He, uh, helped me last week. I still get lost in that school," I say, taking a sip of my water.

  "Wow, my son, a gentleman? Who would have thought?" Marlon says, and Dom laughs and rolls his eyes.

  "Well, listen, while we get cleaned up in here, why don't you kids get some fresh air? We will call you in for dessert shortly."

  I wait for the rest of them to stand and look to my dad, who gives me a reassuring nod. As I stand to follow Dom, I see Marlon lead my father into another room down the hall and close the door.

  “This way,” Dom says with a head nod toward the back of the house. In front of him, like the tiny drill sergeant she is, Avianna leads us, flicking her long hair behind her as she walks. As she gets closer to the back door, Dominic bends down and tickles her sides then spins her around and throws her over his shoulder. She laughs hysterically as he carries her through their massive kitchen and opens the back door, running into the yard and spinning around in circles as she shrieks with delight. Finally, they collapse into the grass and both look like newborn fawns as they try to regain their equilibrium and stand. I laugh, watching them, and can’t help but notice how endearing he is with her.

  “Did you do your book report?” he asks her as they finally make it to their feet. She gives him a guilty look and bites her lip, slowly shaking her head. He puts his hands on his hips. “Ave.”

  She sighs and rolls her eyes again.

  “Fine,” she mutters, stomping across the grass and back into the house.

  “She’s funny,” I say, watching her go. He scoffs and lifts his eyebrows.

  “Funny, maybe. Unstoppable, definitely,” he says. “My parents are going to have their hands full with her when she’s a teenager, for sure.”

  “How old is she?” I ask.

  “Ten,” he says, “going on twenty.”

  “She seems to adore you, though,” I say. He nods.

  “Yeah,” he says. “That’s my girl. We’re eight years apart, so she’s kinda like my kid, ya know?”

  I nod slowly, thinking about Camilla.

  “Yeah,” I say, my voice dropping as I sit down on one of the chaise lounges on the big patio. “I was like that with my sister, too.”

  He sits down across from me, folding his hands between his knees, and he leans forward.

  “‘Was?’” he asks.

  I nod.

  “She and my mom died in a car accident last year,” I tell him. He straightens up, running his hands down his legs.

  “Jesus,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry, Scarlett.”

  I look up at him and flash a sad smile.

  “I think that’s why we’re here,” I tell him. “I think we both know our dads are up to something that isn’t exactly legal. But he doesn’t know what else to do with the emptiness in our house, so he just looks for more work anywhere he can find it.”

  Dom nods slowly, his eyes dropping to the ground.

  “Well,” he says, “whatever it is they’re up to, I’m glad your boring dinner ended up being here.”

  I turn to him and smile.

  “Ya know, it didn’t turn out to be too terrible after all.”

  6

  Scarlett - Present

  When I first wake up, I forget, for a moment, where I am until I feel the cotton against my shirt and his scent hits me. Despite the near-death experience last night and learning that my father is not quite the genius businessman he has always liked me to think, I actually slept fairly well.

  But now that I remember my entire life is in shambles, that familiar knot that's formed in my stomach so many times before from being my father's daughter makes its grand entrance for the day, and I have a feeling it will be here for a while.

  I sigh and scoot off the bed, grabbing my teeny pajama shorts off the floor and putting them on. Dom's t-shirt hangs well below them, and I pray to God that no one else is here. I open the door a crack and peek out, and I notice a note taped to the front of it.

  Hope you slept okay.

  Went to grab breakfast. Put some of Ave's old clothes on my bed.

  You're gonna be okay.

  -D

  I smile at it in my hand, his chicken-scratch handwriting exactly what I needed to feel a little more at ease. On the bed sits a mish-mash of clothing options, but I finally find some old sweatpants that are my size. Avie is a little bit taller than me, but it's nothing that a few old-fashioned rolls of the waistband can't fix.

  I look at the other options, but out of the corner of my eye, I see a green sweatshirt hanging off of the desk chair. I pick it up, bringing it toward my face and inhaling. God, that smell of him and the way it feels wrapped around me transports me right back into that damn alley.

  But being that I didn't exactly have time to put on a bra, it only makes sense to wear his baggy sweatshirt so that there's no accidental pokage.

  I slip it on over my head and throw my hair up into a bun. I stop at the mirror and let out a long sigh. After everything he's seen of me in the last twelve hours, it seems like a moot point to go and try and hide myself now. I shrug and walk out the door just as he's coming to the top of the steps with two coffees in hand. He pauses when he sees the sweatshirt, cocking his head and lifting an eyebrow.

  I shrug.

  "It went with the pants," I say. He gives me a half-smile as he hands me a coffee.

  "It looks good on you," he says, making that knot in my stomach loosen just a tiny bit. I take the coffee and nod a thanks. "Still like it with just cream?"

  I smile before I take a sip.

  "You don't forget much, do you?" I ask.

  He shakes his head.

  "Not when it comes to you."

  The smiles run away from our faces simultaneously, like we both feel the air growing thicker around us. He clears his throat.

  "Gio is on his way home, and when he gets here, we'll head back to your apartment so you can get whatever you need," he says. I look up at him.

  "How long do you think I'll need to stay here?" I ask. He shrugs his shoulders.

  "I really don't know, Scar. I need to talk with your dad, see where things are," he says. I blow out a breath and shake my head. "What is it?"

  I turn away from him, running a hand down my face.

  "It's just that...this is the entire reason I left Brooklyn in the first place," I say quietly. He nods.

  "I know. I wish I could have... I wish you could have stayed out of this," he says. "I'll do everything I can to—"

  "No, that's the whole point," I tell him, feeling my chest tighten. "I didn't want to drag you into whatever the fuck my father got himself into. And now look where I am. Right here, with you, with a goddamn target on my back. Dragging you right into the line of fire."

  His ey
es narrow on mine.

  "You didn't drag me," he whispers. "I followed you."

  He takes a step toward me and tucks a piece of hair behind my ear as I close my eyes and drink him in.

  "Dominic," I whisper just as he leans in. But before I let myself melt into his lips, I say it again. "Dominic."

  He pauses and looks at me.

  "I will not be the thing that brings this family down," I tell him. "You have all been through too much, and I won't be one more thing. I won't be the thing that drags Johnny Dexter back into your lives. As soon as we talk to my father, I need to leave here."

  I watch as his shoulders drop, but his eyes stay locked on mine.

  "You're not 'bringing Dexter back' into my life. He never left. And even if that were true, you think I'd just let this go without making sure you were safe?"

  I swallow, and he takes a step closer.

  "You could leave if you want. But I won't rest until I know that you're not in danger. You can't stop me from giving a shit about you—as much as you may try, Scarlett."

  And with that, he turns on his heel and heads back down the stairs, leaving me breathless, my insides swirling and burning for him.

  A little while later, Gio walks through the front door, hollering around the house for us so we can go. I walk down the stairs in Avie's pants and slippers, Dom's sweatshirt, and an attitude I'm pretty sure only one thing could get rid of right now.

  "Hey, Scarlett," Gio says with a quick head nod.

  "Hi, Gio," I say as I walk toward the door. "Thanks for the escort."

  He flashes me a smile so quick and forced that it almost looks painful. Dom's younger brother has always had a chip on his shoulder. He has that same Castiano, alpha-male thing going, except he was never one with the killer smile like Dom or Marlon. He always seemed angry about something, and it appears that, as he's grown, not much has changed.

  Dom appears from the back of the house and snags his coat from the front hook.

  "Let's get in and get out," he says, walking past me to open the door.

  A few minutes later, we arrive back at my building, and I immediately feel anxious. They knew where I lived. They were in this building. They could have gotten to me—or worse, to him. I take my key out of my sweatshirt pocket and walk inside, both Castiano boys on either side of me like I have some sort of entourage.

  When we get up to my door, Dom puts his hand on mine. With a quick nod to Gio, they both have their guns drawn in an instant, and I feel my nerves stand on end. Gio steps in front of me, and Dom tucks me back beside him. Gio opens the door slowly, peeking around the corner like it's some sort of raid. He walks inside, gun pointed down each hall, pushing each door open slowly until, finally, he nods.

  I walk inside and take a breath as Dom closes the door behind us, fiddling with it to stay as closed as possible with a busted lock.

  "Grab whatever you need," he tells me, "and then we will get you out of here."

  Gio walks around the apartment, looking out the windows, and I duck into my room. I take a breath when I get inside, pulling my Coach suitcase out from my closet and throwing it on the bed. I open my drawers and grab as many clothes as I can, turning back to the bed and packing them in.

  "You still have this?" I hear him ask, and I jump and throw a hand to my chest.

  "Jesus, Dom," I say, turning to look at him. "Have what?"

  He nods his head to the seashell necklace he bought for me from a vendor at Coney Island the summer after his senior year.

  I swallow and look down at the ground, feeling my cheeks flush.

  "Yes," I say bashfully as I pretend to be preoccupied with my clothes.

  “Can I help you with anything?” he asks. I shake my head as I empty another drawer into my bag and tug on the zipper.

  “Think this is all I should need for now,” I tell him, grabbing for my tablet and snatching a few books off my shelves. I pack them in the front pocket and look up at him. “Can I put my own clothes on before we go?” I ask.

  He smiles and nods, leaning back against the wall. I shoot him a look and cross my arms.

  “What?”

  “Can you get out, please?”

  He pushes off the wall, and that sly smile creeps across his lips.

  “Sorry,” he says, holding his hands in the air. “I just figured after last night and after the other day in that alley when we pretty much fuck––”

  “We did not pretty much fuck,” I say, cutting him off and narrowing my eyes on his. He purses his lips as he looks across the room at me then lets out a chuckle. He reaches up and plucks the necklace from the mirror and walks toward me.

  “Keep telling yourself that,” he whispers in my ear as he drops the necklace in my hand. A chill straightens my spine as he pulls back and ducks out of the room, closing the door behind him. I tuck the necklace into my bag and change into a pair of skinny jeans and some Chuck Taylors before heading back out. They both stand as I walk out, Dominic still with that stupid cheeky grin on his face.

  I ignore him as I breeze past, following close behind Gio, who surveys the hall again before letting us out. As I turn to close behind us, I look around my apartment one more time, wondering when I might see it next. This apartment is not exactly the giant penthouse I’m used to living in, but it’s mine.

  I got my degree from Boston University and got a job at a small tech firm as a data analyst right here in Brooklyn when I moved back. It’s completely boring to anyone looking in, and I don’t make much. But it’s mine. My dad can’t stand it. I know it doesn’t look great for someone of his “status” to have a daughter living in a tiny apartment across town when I could be put up in some nice apartment on his dime, not working a day in my life, and spending money for a living.

  But that would make me part of it.

  Part of the life that I swore off so long ago.

  So, I stay here. I still let him treat me to fancy dinners, we still go on trips together, and he pays for the car that picks me up and drops me off at work every day. Little things, so that he doesn’t become too overbearing. If I give a little, I find that he leaves me to myself for the most part.

  Until now. Until he did whatever the fuck he did to make it so that I can’t stay here. In my sanctuary. Away from the madness.

  I pull the door and turn back around just as Dom reaches down to take my bag. Gio

  stays two steps ahead while Dom stands noticeably close to me, so much so that I feel the fabric of his pants brush against me.

  “Let’s get you home,” he says as he opens the car door for me, and we both pause. “Home” is a fluid term right now, but something about it being his home makes it feel a little more concrete.

  Which is a little bit terrifying.

  7

  Dominic - Senior Year

  “Dominic, come in here please,” Dad calls from the study as I lie in bed, flicking through the channels. I have checked my phone every five seconds to see if Scarlett has texted me back yet. It’s been a month since I first saw her and since our families have become chummy.

  She’s been over for dinner for the last four Sundays, and each time, we spend just a little bit more time outside together than the last. She’s perfectly oblivious to what our dads do for a living, but there’s something about that that’s so refreshing to me. Our conversations revolve around her favorite T.V. shows, school drama, what we want to do when we get older.

  Well, more like what she wants to do. I tend to avoid the subject because I know what I’ll be doing, and I don’t think she’d like it.

  So, I just change the subject when it comes up. I will never lie to her; I made myself that promise the second time we sat outside on the patio together. Judging by her relationship with her father, it seems like that’s been going on for a lot of her life. I won’t be one more person who does that.

  We talk all day long, every day and night, and I skip the ends of fourth and fifth period to walk her to her next class. A few times, our driver has
given her a ride home, and it feels so good when she slides in across the leather in front of everyone.

  The few times I’ve seen other guys eye her down or spark up a conversation with her, I’m quick to insert myself where I don’t really belong. They need to know that she’s with me. I don’t know how or in what way, but she is.

  She hasn’t responded yet, so I let out a dramatic sigh and slide off the bed. I walk down the flight of stairs and into my dad’s study, which is next to my sister’s room. Mom and Dad’s room is on this level, too, and so is my sister’s. Gio and I have rooms on the top level, along with the home gym my dad had set up a few years ago and hardly ever uses. There are two more bedrooms on our level and one more in the loft on the top floor.

  The brownstone has been in our family since it was built in the late 1890s, and my dad takes immense pride in it.

  “What’s up, Pops?” I ask, walking through the study door.

  “Take a seat,” he says, nodding to the big leather couch that sits opposite his desk.

  I swallow and plop down on the couch, stretching one arm across the top of it. He stands up and walks to the chair that sits adjacent to it and sits down.

  “You’ve got three weeks till graduation,” he says as if I’m not counting down to the minute. I nod, and he lifts an eyebrow. “We have a smaller job we need to get done here in the next week or so. I was thinkin’ maybe now’s a good time for some initiation. What do ya think?”

  My heart pumps in my chest as I scoot to the end of the couch.

  “You mean…” I start to ask, and he nods.

  “I think you’re ready, son. But listen to me. Your mother is not going to be happy about this. You need to be ready for that battle.”

  I nod.

  “It’s a small job for Sal,” he goes on, and my ears perk up even more. “Needs some help getting some money he’s owed from a fella out in Queens.”

  “Sal,” I repeat back, and he nods. A sly smile crosses his lips.