by Portia Moore
“That would be really nice for you, I think,” I say carefully. “You seem happy here. And you love your family, clearly.”
“Don’t you get why I’m telling you this?” She raises an eyebrow.
I hear the warning bells going off in my head.
She laughs. “I’m not proposing marriage or anything. I don’t even know if I want to get married.”
Well, that’s a fucking relief.
“But,” she continues, reaching up to toy with the collar of my shirt, “I care for you, Chase. More importantly, I feel like I can trust you. And if you were willing…if I chose to stay here, I would love for you to consider staying, too. I know you’re not close with your family anymore. I could find work for you here, for the business.”
What the hell am I supposed to say to that? This estate is right there in front of me, gleaming green and gold in the Tuscan sunlight. I’m standing on the balcony of a mansion worth millions of dollars, with a beautiful, exotic woman asking me to stay with her. The agency can’t train all the humanity out of us. It’s enough to even make me stop thinking about Rain for a second because what she’s offering is the apple in the garden of Eden. I wouldn’t be a man if I didn’t want it for just a second.
But I know, deep down, that it’s not me. And I’d never be truly happy.
My job, however, right now, is making Sonya believe something different. I’ve never been a great liar or an actor, but I have to play my part perfectly right now. I’ve got to act as if everything Sonya is offering is everything I’ve ever dreamed of, so that neither she nor anyone else here sees what’s coming.
I’m going to fucking take Vincent and his whole goddamn family down, just like I said I would, and then I’m going the fuck back to Chicago.
After that, I’m swearing off women for a long time.
22
Rain
I manage to avoid Zach—Chase—for most of the next day. He doesn’t come down for breakfast, and when Gianna casually asks about him, Sonya just says that he’s still sleeping—she claims it’s jet lag. But the smug look on her face that insinuates exactly why he’s still in bed makes me want to slap her.
The rest of the day is spent with Erin and Vincent, touring the estate. Under other circumstances—for instance, if my ex-boyfriend hadn’t just shown up and my relationship with Vincent was the same as it had been a year ago—it might have been a lovely day. Ezio suggests we go on a horseback ride, but to my relief, Vincent opts for the walking tour of the vineyards. It’s a lovely late spring day, and for a little while, I’m able to put Zach out of my head. Francesca has packed us a picnic lunch, and Vincent takes us out to the lake where he says that he used to play as a child. We eat overlooking it, Vincent’s hand resting on my knee, and briefly, I’m able to imagine that this is all normal.
That I’m happy.
But eventually, of course, we have to go back to the house to get ready for dinner. And dinner is absolute torture.
Zach and Sonya are both there, of course, sitting side by side. Zach is careful not to meet my eyes, focusing instead on his “girlfriend,” and my appetite disappears immediately. I don’t know how I’m going to get through days or even weeks of this. It was hard enough when we were teenagers, and I was sick with puppy love over him. Now we’re adults, and I have to deal with it all over again?
The universe is fucking with me, and I’m really over it.
“Poppy’s birthday is coming up,” Vincent says casually, taking a bite of his salad. I see Zach flinch then, as if in reaction to the nickname.
“I had plans for how we should celebrate back home,” Vincent continues. “but now that we’re here, I’m thinking of what we should do instead. Maybe the club in Rome?”
“Oh, how fun.” Sonya smiles tightly at him. “Is she finally going to be of legal age? Maybe even nineteen?”
I bite my lip hard to avoid saying anything. I don’t know why Sonya seems to not like me—I’ve never done anything to her. I wonder if she’s picked up on something between Zach and me, but I don’t think that’s possible. Sonya might be cold to me now, but I’m sure it would be a hell of a lot worse if she suspected me of having an interest in her boyfriend.
And Zach has barely looked at me since he arrived anyway.
“She’s going to be twenty-one,” Vincent says sharply. “I want it to be a blowout party. No expense spared.”
Sonya makes a clicking sound with her tongue. “You are good at spending the family money, Vincent.”
“I’m spending my money on this party. Just as I would have if we’d had it in New York—"
“Hush, both of you,” Gianna says sharply. Sonya and Vincent both go quiet immediately, and I’m amazed at how easily she seems to be able to control them.
I’m not sure that Gianna is exactly someone that I’d want to emulate. Still, I wish Vincent wanted a wife more like his mother—someone strong, commanding, an equal. I can tell that Ezio holds quiet power in this family, and I’m sure that if he put his foot down, Gianna would comply. But from the way he looks at his wife, I can tell that he loves her, even if he merely tolerates some things about her—like her manipulation of her children.
But that’s not want Vincent wants. He doesn’t want to share power.
His is absolute.
“What do you think?” Vincent directs the question at Ezio. “Having it at the new club in Rome? It could be good for business.”
“Oh, you two!” Gianna lets out a long, huffy sigh. “Always business with the two of you. Have the party at the estate. It’s big enough, certainly. We can even have some of it outdoors if you like, at the big gazebo by the vineyards.”
Vincent opens his mouth, probably to argue, but Ezio sets down his fork and waves his hand. “I agree with your mother, Vincent. The estate is a good place for it.”
Vincent looks surprised, and Sonya looks as satisfied as a cat that caught its prey at Vincent being contradicted.
“Your mother never gets to throw big parties anymore,” Ezio continues. “This is the best gift you could probably give her. And it’ll give her something to do, eh? Get her out of my hair.” He grins at Gianna, and once again, I see that love between them.
Gianna smacks him affectionately, but I can see her smiling at him. Vincent, on the other hand, is visibly annoyed.
“I want to throw a party for my fiancée the way I wanted,” he says tersely, his tone almost petulant. “The way it would have been in New York. Especially since I was apparently brought here under false pretenses.” He glares at Sonya, and Gianna presses her lips tightly together. Sonya doesn’t even flinch, just coolly looks back at him.
“Don’t speak to your family like that, son,” Ezio says quietly, and for the first time, I notice the tension between Vincent and his parents. Over dinners this past week, I’ve only really seen them getting along, Vincent being patient and conscientious of his mother and respectful towards his father. It’s Sonya that seems to piss him off. But now I see a conflict brewing.
Over where to throw a stupidly expensive birthday party.
My birthday party. Of course, no one has asked me what I want, not even Vincent’s parents. Certainly not Vincent himself. But of course, nothing that I would really want would be lavish enough for him. This party isn’t really about me. It’s just a way for him to show off his wealth and influence and prove to everyone around him how much he loves me.
I’d feel so much more loved if anyone would just listen to me. Just for one second.
But I know that’s not going to happen. So I keep my eyes down on my plate, picking at the tender piece of lamb nestled in a pile of risotto, not really eating it so much as shredding it.
“Fine.” Vincent sets his napkin down, breaking the standoff between him and his parents. “We’ll have it here at the estate. Does that sound good, Poppy?” he asks, looking over at me as if he’s finally remembered that I’m here.
“Of course,” I say softly, looking up from my plate now that I’
m being allowed to speak. “Thank you, Gianna.” I make a point of looking directly at Vincent’s mother, not at him. “If it’s too much trouble, we don’t have to, though—”
I know I shouldn’t have said that final part, but I can’t help it. As much as I don’t love Vincent’s mother, I don’t want her to think I’m selfish or that I expect any of this.
“Nonsense.” Gianna reaches over and pats my hand. “Twenty-one is a big birthday. You should have a party. And my husband is right. I do love throwing parties.” She beams at Vincent and me, clearly thrilled. “We’ll invite everyone. Even those business associates you men are always going on about. Yes?”
“Good.” Ezio nods his approval. Vincent looks irritated but says nothing. Sonya looks amused. And Zach looks—I can’t tell, from the quick glance that I allow myself, what he’s thinking. He only meets my eyes for a second before looking back down at his own plate.
“You girls should go shopping tomorrow,” Vincent says, glancing at me, and then at Erin. “Go see the town, find something for your party, Poppy. April can go with you.”
Erin claps her hands together, clearly thrilled. Sonya rolls her eyes, but Vincent ignores her, still looking at Erin. “Erin, why don’t you go and help Francesca decide what dessert we’ll be having,” Vincent suggests.
I glance over at Vincent, surprised. Knowing Francesca the little bit that I do, she’s probably had this week’s menu planned out well in advance. Obviously, Vincent wants her out of the room for some reason, and my stomach clenches with nervousness.
“Chase.” He looks across the table at Zach, his expression pleasant, but I can see the tension beneath it.
“Yeah.” Zach’s voice is casual. So casual. I don’t know how he can act like nothing is wrong when I’m sitting right across the table from him when I know he’s lying about his identity, when everything about this situation is so fucked up that I can’t even begin to think of how to untangle it. Just hearing his voice makes my skin tingle. It makes me feel like I can’t breathe. How can he not be feeling the same? Has he really gotten over me so completely?
Is there something wrong with me, that seeing him still makes me wish that I could go back to that last sunny afternoon and beg him not to leave?
“I haven’t gotten the chance to do more than introduce myself the morning you and my cousin arrived. And, of course, she doesn’t volunteer much.” Vincent smiles thinly at Sonya, who just raises one eyebrow at him.
“She keeps me busy.” Zach grins at Sonya. “And it’s only been a day, after all.”
Vincent’s face is expressionless. “Oh, I’m sure she does.” He reaches for his glass of wine, his gaze never leaving Zach. He looks like a wolf studying its prey, and my stomach flips over again. I have to squeeze my hands together in my lap to stop them from shaking.
He sets the glass down. “What is it that you do for work, Chase?”
Zach gives him a sheepish, good-ol’-boy smile. It makes my throat tighten because I recognize it. I saw him use that smile when we were younger, bartering for parts for his car. I also saw him use it with his father, once or twice—it’s the look he uses when he’s trying to fly under the radar, make sure that whoever he’s talking to underestimates him.
It makes me wonder all over again just what he’s really doing here.
“Whatever pays the bills,” Zach says casually. “But your people did a pretty thorough check on me. Sonya didn’t miss a spot.” He grins at her and then glances back over at Vincent. “You know everything, I’m sure.”
Vincent’s smile tightens. “Indulge me. Give me all the details.”
It’s like watching an old Western, where they face off on Main Street at high noon, in the middle of the town. All that matters is who is the faster draw.
Once upon a time, I would have bet on Zach. But all of this is just another reminder of how I don’t really know him anymore. And Vincent is no one to be toyed with.
I’ve learned that the hard way.
“Why don’t you just take his dick out and measure it, Vincent?” Sonya spits.
Gianna gasps. “Sonya!” she snaps.
Vincent doesn’t seem even the tinies bit fazed, though. “I’d rather not, though I’m sure it would be enlightening.”
Zach is still laser-focused on Vincent, not even glancing over at Sonya or Gianna. “I work hard at anything that I do, and I’m discreet,” he says simply. “If I went into detail about every odd job I’ve ever done, we’d be here all night. I haven’t always been a Boy Scout, that’s for sure. But I can tell you one thing, Mr. Jamison, I’ve never given any employer cause to regret it. And I know how to keep my mouth shut.”
Sonya glances over at Vincent, her mouth tight. “You know about what happened when the bar was nearly robbed.”
“I’ve forgotten.”
Ezio looks sharply over at them at that, his attention roused. “A robbery? I didn’t hear about that.”
“We didn’t want to worry you,” Sonya says smoothly. “It was handled. But of course, Vincent was told. I’m sure he’s had so many other things on his mind, of course, like planning birthday parties for his barely legal fiancée and rescuing Midwestern teenagers.” She looks at me, her expression cold, and I do my best not to flinch.
The only way I’m ever going to survive in this family is if I can manage to not take everything so personally. But they really don’t make it fucking easy.
Ezio sighs. “Just tell me about this robbery.”
Sonya smiles at him. “Chase was helping with inventory when two gunmen came to the door, demanding that I hand over money and our most recent shipment. I don’t know what they would have done to me, but while I tried to talk them down, he went to the office, broke into the desk, and retrieved the gun that I kept there, and circled around back. He took both of them down and probably saved me from a great deal of injury, if not worse.” She reaches over, squeezing Zach’s hand, and for a moment, I think I see a flash of genuine affection on her face.
I don’t know what to make of it. I can’t tell how Zach really feels about her—if he’s just with her for the money and influence, if it’s something else altogether, or if he really cares for her. On the other hand, Sonya has the aura of a woman who cares only about what will benefit her. Everything else—and everyone—is expendable. A female version of Vincent. They’re more alike than they realize—or maybe they do realize, and that’s part of why they hate each other, aside from their conflict years ago.
But in that moment, I saw something real in her face for Zach. And it makes me hate her.
I can’t do this.
“Can I be excused?” I interject, taking advantage of the momentary silence around the table. “I think I’m still recovering from jet lag—I can barely keep my eyes open.”
Vincent looks irritated the moment I start to speak, but for once, I don’t care. It’s worth managing his annoyance later to get out of this room, away from Zach and his new girlfriend, away from her stories of his heroics that sound very much like something the Zach I once knew would have done—in fact, did do—and away from this family that I don’t really have a place in, and never really will, even if I spent the rest of my life with Vincent.
“Of course,” Gianna says kindly. “Get some rest, dear. We’ll see you in the morning.”
I lean over to peck Vincent on the cheek and then stand up, circling around the table to leave. As I go, I make certain not to meet Zach’s eyes, not even look at him.
Not even once.
23
Rain
I don’t get much sleep. When I do, my dreams are full of Zach, and the result is that I wake up with a headache, feeling as if I’ve been run over by a truck. In fact, all of my body aches, and I wish I could just stay in bed all day. Facing anyone today feels impossible, but facing Vincent and his family, especially Sonya, and playing along with Zach’s ruse when I don’t even understand it—it feels so overwhelming that I roll over and bury my face in my pillow wanting to sc
ream.
But even muffled, someone would probably hear.
And I have a shopping date today, so I have to get up and get ready. If I don’t go, or if I miss it, it’ll just be more evidence for Vincent to grab onto that I’m ungrateful.
To an outsider, it probably would seem ungrateful. I think about Dena, who I feel I haven’t seen in forever, my only remaining friend in Chicago that I’m allowed to speak to anymore. I know she thinks that I’m not grateful enough for what I have, that putting up with Vincent’s moods and tempers is a small price to pay for everything I’ve been given. I know that she’d think his mistresses are acceptable, too. I can hear her voice in my head now, saying that’s just how these types of men are, Rain.
But I never cared about any of this. I just wanted to be loved. And seeing Zach again has only driven that deeper. I hate knowing that he probably thinks I’m still with Vincent of my own free will, that I’m willing to stay with a man like him for the money and luxury and security. That I want to be a trophy wife. I know what Zach must think of me now, and it makes me sick. But there’s no way for me to tell him otherwise without risking us both. Because there must be a good reason why he’s going by a different name, and probably hiding a lot of his past, too. Why he pretends not to recognize me even as a friend.
There must be.
The door opens, and Erin bursts in. She’s wearing one of her new outfits, the super short designer shorts and a black crop top with an embroidered flower design over it, and the new hoops. She flings herself onto the bed before I can even sit up, crawling towards me and flopping onto the pillows.
“Get up, get up, get uuuppp, Rain.” She grins at me. “We’re going shopping today! In Italy! How are you not already ready to go?”
