Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Have you ever woken up feeling utterly disappointed? I have. About an hour ago. I waited for Marco to come into my room. He never showed. And now, I’m sleep and sex deprived and a little embarrassed about being turned down.
I can’t believe he was a no-show. I couldn’t have been more obvious about the fact I wanted him to join me.
“Why do you look like your cat died?” Neo asks me from across the table.
“I didn’t sleep well.” I shrug.
“Why?” My brother’s stare pierces through me. Sometimes, I think he believes he has the power to see through to my mind. He doesn’t. He just wishes he did.
“Because I’m not in my own bed and—oh, I don’t know—I have a psychotic ex with a boner for me?” I quote Marco, my tone full of sarcasm. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little concerned about Kye. Up until yesterday, I didn’t believe he was capable of causing me harm.
I guess you never truly know someone, though. You can think you know them. Reality is, you’ll only know the version of them they want you to know. We all do it. Let people see what we want them to see. There are a lot of things about me that my brother will never know.
Like the fact that, right now, I’m sexually frustrated because I have to sit here and look at Marco while pretending that I don’t want to jump that man’s body and climb him like he’s my new favorite jungle gym. Not to mention how the asshole turned me down.
Why would he do that? I know he likes me. I mean, I thought he did.
“I’m going to get him, Helena. I promise,” Neo tells me, and I want to believe him. I really do.
I nod my head and fake a smile. “I know.” Then I push away from the table and stand from my chair. “I need to get to the café.”
“Marco will take you,” Neo says.
“Great, another day with the babysitter scaring away my customers. I’m sending you the bill for any losses his ugly face causes my business,” I snap before storming out of the room.
Waiting out front of my brother’s house, I count at least twenty guys who could replace Marco. All I’d have to do is tell Neo that I slept with him. And, poof, Marco would disappear. I wouldn’t do that, though. My embarrassment does not mean the fucker should die.
“Your chariot awaits, princess.” Marco appears next to me and holds out an arm towards the car.
Glaring at him, I walk over and open the passenger door. I might have to go along with him shadowing me—and honestly I’m a little too freaked out to not let him right now—but that doesn’t mean I have to be nice about it.
“What’s wrong?” Marco asks after ten solid minutes of silence.
“Nothing’s wrong. What could possibly be wrong? Why would anything in the world be wrong? Everything is just peachy.” I throw my arms in the air before crossing them over my chest.
“Right… Want to tell me why you’re in a mood then?” he presses.
I turn and face him. If he’s going to lie to me, I want him to have to look me in the eye when he does it. “Why didn’t you come to my room last night?”
“That’s why you’re acting shitty? Because I didn’t come to your room?”
“No, of course not,” I huff. “But why didn’t you?”
Marco smirks. A smirk that says: I’m hot and I know it. I want to bitch slap that smirk off his face. “I wanted to. Trust me, I did. We were in your brother’s house, Helena.”
“You didn’t really want to,” I snap back. “If you did, you would have.” As I hear the words, I know I’m being unreasonably bitchy. “I’m sorry. I’m just tired. Ignore me.”
“I’m not going to ignore you. I get it. You put yourself out there and you think I’m not interested. But that couldn’t be further from the truth. Trust me, I’m interested. Very, very interested,” Marco says.
“Really? You are?”
“Fuck yes. Have you looked in a mirror recently? You’re the hottest woman I’ve ever seen. And your personality is just as beautiful,” he says, then adds, “Usually,” under his breath.
I slap at his arm. “I heard that.” I laugh. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Marco picks up my hand and entwines his fingers with mine. “I swear, once this fucker of an ex of yours is found, I will be taking you out on that date we talked about. We will come clean to everyone and this sneaking around will stop.”
“Okay.” I nod my head and feel my mood lifting. “It’s a date.”
“Also, you have really shit taste in men,” Marco tells me.
“My taste is changing.” I shrug. “You know, I’ve never dated a made man before.”
“Why not? You’re surrounded by them all the time?”
“It scares me,” I admit.
“What does? Me?”
“No. The lifestyle, the things my family does, the whole lot. I’ve avoided dating made men because I don’t know if I can actually handle worrying whether or not my boyfriend or eventual husband is going to come home at night.
I don’t know if I can handle the fear that he might piss off the wrong person who then decides to take their vengeance out on me—or worse, my eventual children.
” I close my eyes and inhale. “There is a lot of ugliness in this world, and I guess I wanted to avoid it.”
“Fear isn’t always a bad thing, Helena. It means you’re living. It means that you’ll be smart with the risks and are aware of the threats. Fear is what keeps us alive. You shouldn’t run from it. You should embrace it,” Marco says.
Is he right? Have I been hiding from my own fears for far too long?