Chapter Thirty-One
Devious
“ C lose your eyes,” I tell Roselyn as we go to the restaurant.
“No,” she answers.
“I’m serious, Roselyn. Do you trust me?”
She gives me a serious look, arching her eyebrow. “I trust you to protect me, but I don’t trust you to not kill me,” she jokes.
I shake my head, rolling my eyes. “Do what I say.”
She does what I say, and then I have her step on the balcony as I guide her to the table. I want her to enjoy herself before we get back home. It’ll be a while before I’ll be able to take her out since I don’t know Cashel’s next move. As far as I know, Aiden is still looking for Maya, and I can’t wait for him to record her so we can send it to one of Cashel’s minions to gloat.
I guide her to the chair, ushering her to sit down. Her mouth hangs open at the view of the lit city. The sky is dark, but the city is alive and vibrant, something straight out of a Sarah J. Maas novel. Sometimes, I’ll pick up a young adult fantasy when I’m tired of reading a thriller. Don’t judge me.
Her eyes turn to the lit candles, and her face is colored with shock.
“Oh my God, the city is so beautiful. You did this all for me?”
“You told me the men you were engaged to didn’t try to date you, so I want to court you. Show you the finer things in life. You deserve it.”
Tears wet her eyes, and her smile is as wide as the ocean. “Thank you.”
I wipe the tears from her cheeks.
“You’re unpredictable,” she tells me, her eyes glancing down at the steak and vegetables the chef made. “You’re confusing me.”
The short white dress she’s wearing hugs her small frame, and a white flower is tucked behind her ear. She really is beautiful. I unfold her napkin, placing it on her lap, then cut up her steak in tiny pieces.
“Meaning?”
“You’re making me feel like I’m on top of the world and that you care about me.”
“I do care about you, Roselyn.”
She nods, but I can tell her mind is reeling with thoughts.
We eat in silence and sip our wine. She twirls her hair around her finger, and it’s her tell she’s thinking hard and long about something.
“What are you thinking about?”
She grabs the crystal glass, tapping her nails on it. “It’s stupid.”
“Tell me.”
She takes deep breaths. “Did you and Shelby do things like this? Did you take to her different places?”
I haven’t thought about Shelby in a few months, not since I found out Santo wasn’t mine, and I haven’t been to her grave to put fresh flowers on there. She wasn’t good to me, but you can’t help who you love even when they are toxic. Roselyn shouldn’t have brought her up when this moment is supposed to be all about her. “Are you jealous I was with someone else before you?”
“God no. You’re fifteen years older than me. I knew you had a life before me. I’m just curious.”
“No, we didn’t. Our love was toxic and she caused me a lot of heartache.”
“We don’t have to speak about it if it makes you uncomfortable.” She sips the last bit of her wine, and I grab the bottle and pour her another glass. “Okay, did you ever go to college?”
“I did. I graduated from North Haven University. I have a bachelor’s in literature and history. Have you ever thought about going to college yourself?”
Her cheeks turn red. “Oh, hell no. I’m not smart like you. I never was book smart. I barely graduated high school. My GPA was a 2.5.”
“You can do whatever you want to. You’re smart. Grades don’t make you smart either. It’s better to have street smarts than book smarts.”
I cut into my own juicy steak, smearing sauce on it, then shove the bite in my mouth.
“Have you ever wanted kids? Or are you doing it because you need an heir to carry on your legacy?”
Should I tell her about Santo? Should I tell her I wanted him and I found out later on he wasn’t mine?
I stare at her as her hair blows over her face. I rub my hands together. “No, not after Santo,” I say between bites.
“Who is Santo?”
I shouldn’t tell her. It was a bad idea to bring him up in the first place. It’s been a while since I had a chat with someone about him. And when he and Shelby died, I didn’t let anyone know I was hurting from their deaths. But in the mafia, that’s how it’s supposed to be. If you show a sign of weakness, people will use it against you. I gulp the wine, washing down the steak.
“No one.”
She rests her hands on my palms, stroking me like a wounded child. “You can tell me, Devious.”
If I don’t tell her about Santo, then she might go back and ask Marla, and my cousin won’t keep her mouth shut about me to her.
“You’re done eating?” I ask.
She nods.
“Let’s sit out on the lounge chairs and look at the city.”
I grab her hand and lead her to the lounge area. She kicks off her white flip-flops, lying on the white chair. I sit next to her, resting my hand behind my head. We both stare at the city in awe. I want to tell her what happened, and I know she’s going to find out one way or another. Roselyn doesn’t seem like the type who goes around telling everyone’s secrets. Hell, I told her about how Aiden killed Draco.
“Shelby was pregnant with my son, Santo. But I found out from Cashel it was his son.”
“Who is Cashel?”
“The don of the Irish famiglia . We used to be close. He was my best friend since we were in diapers, but he turned on me. He had an affair with Shelby.”
Shock mars her face. “That explains a lot. Why you’re so big on loyalty.” She grabs my hand and squeezes tight. “I’m sorry. No one deserves to be treated like shit.”
I rub the back of my neck, trying to relieve the stress.
“How far along was she?”
“Six months. I couldn’t save her or Santo.”
Pain pebbles in my chest, and the hollow feeling in my stomach makes it ache. I shake my head at the memory of me trying to perform CPR on her and rushing her to the hospital, lying to the doctors about what happened. The doctors called the police, and when they found out who I really was, they left the case alone. I lied to Shelby’s mother about what happened to their daughter. The only people who know what happened are Marla, Charlotte, Cashel, and Aiden.
All of a sudden, I feel hot and my hands shake.
“How did Shelby die?” Roselyn asks.
I stare into her cornflower eyes. She knows how she died. It’s written on her face. I don’t want to tell her right now because I don’t want to face what I did to Shelby. And I already proved time and time again to Roselyn that I’m a bad man. How would she look at me as a person who killed a child and their mother?
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does to me. Tell me,” she pleads.
She better drop the fucking subject now.
She stands up from the lounge chair, hovering over me. “You don’t get to shut me out now, or ever. Tell me what happened to Shelby.”
“Why the fuck are you trying to ruin our evening? Drop it—last warning.”
“I see the guilt on your face every time I mention her name. Whatever you did to her, she’s your weakness. Not because you might still love her, which I hope you don’t, but because of the regret. I told you what will break me. Now you tell me what will break you.”
I stare at her face for a few seconds, crossing my arms across my chest.
“I killed Shelby and Santo.”