Chapter 33
DANIKA
Tommy’s text letting me know he’s coming home is a welcome embrace that goes cold the second he arrives and I see how upset he is.
“What happened?” I ask while trying to give him the space he obviously craves.
“Renzo is setting up a meeting with Biba. We’re going to try to negotiate a truce.
” He continues past me to the primary suite and goes right for the shower.
I follow but am not going to chase him into the shower, so I wait on the bed until he’s done.
It doesn’t take long. Once he’s out and toweled off, I try again.
“Is this truce a bad thing?”
“It is when my brother doesn’t trust me to be a part of it.”
“Did you guys argue?” I ask hesitantly, already sensing the answer.
“You could say that.”
I bite at the inside of my cheek, feeling horrible for the conflict I’m causing. “So what are you doing now?”
He’s dressed in record time and arming himself with a small arsenal of weapons—even more than normal. Alarm bells blare in my mind as fear sends a cascade of tingles to my fingers and toes.
“I’m not going to just sit on my ass and do nothing.”
“What does that mean, Tommy? I don’t like it. Please, don’t leave.”
He levels me with a glare. “Why? Why shouldn’t I go?” Each word feels like the pull of a rope suspending a guillotine above me. My answer will determine my sentence, and I have no idea why or what the right words will be.
“Because I’m worried for you.”
Wrong. The giant blade crashes down as thoroughly as his eyes shut me out of his thoughts.
I don’t understand. Why would me being worried about him upset him so badly? He doesn’t give me a chance to ask.
“Stay here,” he says before grabbing his keys and walking away.
I stare blankly at the wall, hardly able to believe what’s just transpired. What is Tommy planning to do? Would he be foolish enough to confront Biba? God, please, no.
I start to pace the living room. Down and back. Down and back.
I do this for fifteen minutes before I cave and try to call him. The phone rings and rings. I hang up and try again to the same end.
This isn’t like him. He wouldn’t not answer my call. I can’t imagine he’s already in danger, but what else would keep him from answering? He could be on the other line. Or maybe he needs space.
Maybe you’re massively overreacting and need to calm down.
Give him time—thirty minutes. If he doesn’t call back, then I can worry. Okay, I can live with that. I’ll paint. That will hopefully distract me and calm my nerves at the same time.
I go back to the guestroom and look at my current work in progress and get out the colors I’ll need to work with, but every few minutes, my eyes are drawn to the canvas of lilies on the dresser.
Funeral lilies. Gran says her love of them has nothing to do with the association.
I could never separate the two. When I see those lilies, I’m reminded of death and the danger Biba poses to me and my family.
It suddenly occurs to me that I really hate that stupid painting.
I hate it with every fiber of my being—enough that I grab it and a bottle of rubbing alcohol and take them to the bathroom.
I slowly pour the alcohol at one end of the shower away from the drain so that it pools.
I lay the canvas face down in the liquid, sliding it around to make sure the face is covered, little by little pouring the entire bottle until it’s saturated. Then I walk away.
I don’t go back to painting. My mood will ruin the piece, so I clean up the paints I opened and doodle on my tablet instead. The second my half hour is up, I open my phone and call Tommy again.
Still no answer.
I open the contacts and look at my options.
Sante and DiAngelo. I’m more comfortable with Sante, but if I ask him to go looking for Tommy, and he ends up hurt, Amelie will be devastated.
I’d hate to be responsible for that. DiAngelo doesn’t wear a wedding ring.
It’s no guarantee he’s unattached, but it eases my conscience.
Tommy probably wouldn’t want me calling anyone, but he can deal with it. That’s what happens if you ignore me.
I dial DiAngelo’s number, and he answers after a single ring.
“Yeah?”
“DiAngelo?” I ask, just to be sure.
“Yeah, Dani. What do you need?” He doesn’t seem upset that I’m bothering him, which is a tiny relief. He’s kind of scary.
“I’m worried and not sure what to do. Tommy got back from some meeting with his brother and was really upset.
He left, saying he was going to do what he could.
I have no idea what that means, and I wouldn’t freak out, except I’ve been trying to call him since he left, and he isn’t answering. It’s not like him.”
“How long’s he been gone?” His gravelly voice takes on an edge, and I appreciate that he’s taking this seriously.
“A little over thirty minutes ago. I’m worried something’s happened. I think someone needs to go look for him.”
“Hold on a second,” he says, then the line clicks silent. A minute later, he’s back. “He didn’t answer me either.”
“Please, do something. This isn’t like him.”
“You just try to calm down and stay put, okay?”
“Are you going to find him?” I demand, frustrated that he hasn’t actually agreed to go looking.
“Dammit, woman, just give me a minute. Can you do that?”
I’m so damn frustrated that I hang up on him.
What is wrong with these ridiculous men that they can’t give a straight answer?
I’m not going anywhere—Tommy would be furious, and I think his guard from earlier is still in the hall.
All I can do is pace. And pace. And pace.
I’m five minutes from wearing tracks in the rug when I get a text.
DiAngelo: Let me in.
I look at the front door, then dart in that direction. I look through the peephole to make sure it’s him, then debate whether the alarm is on, deciding it doesn’t matter. If it’s armed and goes off, hopefully that will get Tommy back here, even if on false pretenses.
I let DiAngelo in, then make sure to lock the door behind him.
“Thanks for not breaking in,” I say. “Have you heard from him?” It’s only been maybe fifteen minutes since we spoke on the phone, but it feels like an eternity.
“No. I called Sante, but he hasn’t heard from him either.” He walks into the living room and sits on the sofa.
“What are you doing? Aren’t you going to look for him?”
“Where exactly should I start?” He directs a hand toward the skyline view of the city out the window. “You considered how fucking huge this city is?”
“I know, but we have to do something ,” I whisper, sensing the onset of tears.
“I am doing something. I’m making sure you’re safe, though I didn’t realize he already had someone stationed here. He’d haunt my ass for all eternity if I let something happen to you.”
“Why—” Emotion constricts my throat, cutting off the words. “Why are you talking about him like he’s dead?”
“ Jesus .” He heaves himself off the sofa with a sigh and pulls me into a giant bear hug. “He’s fine, Danika. That kid can take care of himself, right?”
I nod shakily and try to calm myself. When DiAngelo senses I’ve regained control, he pulls back to meet my eyes, his hands still firmly but gently holding my upper arms.
“If you’re gonna be a part of this world, you’re gonna have to get used to this shit.” He raises thick brows at me, and I nod, though I’m not sure I ever will.
He huffs irritably like he’s reading my thoughts and drops his hands just as Tommy walks in the front door.
“Tommy!” I cry.
He freezes, taking in the sight of me with DiAngelo. Ominous shadows darken his face. “What? I’m gone an hour, and you’ve already replaced me?”
His unexpected accusation is a slap that pulls a gasp from me.
“Watch your fucking tone, kid,” DiAngelo barks. “She called me because she was worried about you. Try checking your phone, for fuck’s sake.”
“Left it here. That’s why I came back. Didn’t realize I’d have a search party waiting for me after just a fucking hour.
” Tommy’s glare winds me because I can’t imagine what I’ve done to deserve such ire.
“You’re just like my brother, aren’t you?
You think I’m totally incompetent. Guess that’s what I get for forcing you to marry me. ”
DiAngelo surges forward like a dog on a squirrel. Tommy never flinches as the larger man gets in his face.
“It’s about time you pull your fucking head out of your ass.
Someone worrying about your safety is a show of love, not distrust, and if you’re too insecure about your idiosyncrasies to think caring about you is an insult, then that’s on you, not her or anyone else.
Danika and your brother—they both just want you to be safe because they don’t want to lose you.
Grow the fuck up.” He checks Tommy’s shoulder on the way out, slamming the door behind him.
Tommy’s words cut me, but more than anything, I’m heartbroken for him.
I’ve seen how he struggles to be what he thinks is normal.
I didn’t realize that struggle extended to his family, as well.
My challenges always felt manageable because my core support system was always there for me.
If I felt I had to prove myself to Mom or Gran, I can only imagine how much harder life would have been.
That’s what the problem has been all along, and I didn’t realize it. He’s been worried I’ll decide he’s unworthy and reject him. He thinks I’ve been forced into this and am making the best of it but am bound to want out.
If we have any hope of making this work, he has to believe in my feelings for him, and that’s not going to happen unless he knows the truth. He’s already sacrificed so much for me. It’s my turn to give a piece of myself for him.
I walk over and take his large hand in mine. “Come here. I have something I need to show you.”