Chapter 10
ELENA
T he persistent knocking on the front door dragged me from sleep. I groped blindly across my nightstand, knocking over my thankfully empty water glass before my fingers closed around my phone.
"Hello?" My voice came out as a croak.
"Elena, open the door. I've been knocking for like ten minutes."
Ivy.
"What the hell? Where's your keys?" I mumbled, but I was already rolling out of bed, stumbling through the darkened apartment to the front door.
When I pulled it open, Ivy stood there in her work clothes—a short skirt and sparkly top partially covered by her leather jacket. Her makeup was smudged at the corners of her eyes, and her dark red hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail.
"Sorry to wake you," she said, pushing past me into the apartment. "But I left my damn keys in my other purse, took the car keys and forget the house ones. Typical. I saw your text about Trent too."
I locked the door behind her and flipped on the kitchen light, wincing at the sudden brightness. "It's fine, I had to get up soon anyway."
She dropped her purse on the counter and kicked off her heels, her attention focused on me. "I may have some ideas. That guy from the first night was back. The one who was talking shit about the Donatis. Alfie is his name. Alfeo actually, but I'm calling him Alfie."
I filled a glass with water, my brain still foggy with sleep. "And?"
"And he was drunk again, running his mouth.
" Ivy's eyes were wide and alert despite the early hour.
Then again, she'd only just finished work recently.
Although, normally it'd be even earlier.
Had she taken on an extra 'job' after her shift again?
"He said he was a Malatesta. That they're one of the Donatis' rival families. "
I took a long drink of water, trying to process what she was saying. "Rival families? What does that even mean? He told you all of this?"
"It means they're mafia, Elena." Ivy's voice dropped to a whisper, as if someone might be listening.
"They have to be, especially from the way this Malatesta guy was talking.
And I may have taken his money for some extra work…
men talk more when they're getting laid, open up a bit, y'know, if you know how to ask right. "
The glass nearly slipped from my fingers as her words sunk in. "Mafia? That's?—"
"It makes sense," Ivy cut in, while I was still reeling that she'd slept with the guy to get this information too, putting her at more risk if it was true.
"Trent digging around and then suddenly calling it quits.
The money. The way nobody seems to know much about them despite their wealth, well, I guess it's more they do know, they just won't talk about it.
The whole shadiness around the family name. "
Mafia.
Holy fucking shit.
I sank onto one of the kitchen stools, my legs suddenly weak.
If she was right, if the Donatis were actually part of organized crime, that changed everything.
My mind flashed to Jackson, his military background, the scars on his back.
The depth in his eyes when he'd looked at me.
Did he know? It'd make sense. He said they were honorable though.
Had that been a lie? Mafia families weren't what I'd call honorable, but the loyalty many people had to them, it made even more sense now. Along with all the extra security.
"We have to stop then," I said, my voice sounding distant even to my own ears. This was too much, too dangerous. Mafia could go after family, and I barely had anyone as it was. "We have to go home. This is too dangerous."
Ivy leaned against the counter, studying me. "What if they were the reason your dad is dead though? What if they killed your father for his money or something?"
"If they did, then they did," I said, rubbing my temples where a headache was beginning to form. This was too big for us. If my father died in a shady way, then I'd have to leave that well enough alone. "What can I do about that?" I was not about to get caught up in this kind of business.
I never should have come here, applied for the job. I should have found another way to help my mom.
"That's true," Ivy nodded slowly. "But wouldn't you want to know the truth? Maybe just dig into their financials or something while you have inside access?"
I laughed without humor. "If they're a mafia family, I could wind up dead, Ivy.
Or worse—they could hurt you or my mom." The image of my mother, frail in her hospital bed, made my chest tighten.
She was already fighting for her life, I was not about to add another battle to that. "I can't risk that."
Ivy crossed the kitchen and put her hand on my shoulder. "I understand. I'll do whatever you decide."
I glanced at the clock on the microwave. 5:34 AM. I needed to start getting ready for work soon.
Work. Like I even wanted to go back there with this newfound knowledge. But it was also only guesses. Words from a stranger. Maybe he was talking shit, but it did explain everything else.
My stomach churned as I shook my head.
"If they are a mafia family, I can't just not show up today," I said, thinking aloud as my chest tightened. "They'd suspect I was up to something."
"You kinda are," Ivy pointed out, and I groaned and rolled my eyes.
No shit.
"I need to figure out a way to leave that's plausible. I can give my notice, say I need to be with my mom." I pursed my lips, hating the sickness swirling in my gut. "That's not even a lie."
Ivy nodded. "Smart. Get out clean."
I stood up, unease rippling through me. "I'm going to shower. Can you put some coffee on?"
"On it." Ivy moved to the coffee maker. "Just be careful today, okay?"
"I will," I promised, heading for the bathroom. "One more day, and then I'm done with the Donatis for good. We'll go home."
My rust-bucket sputtered ominously as I pulled into the Donati Enterprises parking lot.
The check engine light had been on for weeks, but I'd been ignoring it, hoping to squeeze a few more months out of the car before having to deal with repairs I couldn't afford.
It had survived so long, I'd thought it would just power through forever.
Today, however, the car had other plans. The engine made a terrible grinding noise, then died completely as I tried to coast into a parking space, but didn't quite make it.
Crap. Double crap.
"No, no, no," I muttered, turning the key again. The engine made a pathetic whining sound but refused to start. "Not now, please not now." I was only half in my parking spot, and more people were beginning to arrive for work.
At least they were veering around me, but not without a few curious glances.
I hit the steering wheel with my palm, tears of frustration welling in my eyes.
This was the last thing I needed—another expense when I was already drowning.
My only transport home from this suddenly dangerous mess I was in.
How was I going to get back home after quitting?
How was I going to run away from this supposed mafia family?
A tap on my window made me jump. I looked up to see Jackson standing there, his brow furrowed in concern. My heart lurched into my throat at the sight of him.
Of course I was crushing on a guy who worked for a crime family. Go figure.
What if he suspected me?
I shoved the thought aside. I'd not done anything to raise suspicions, right?
Just breathe.
I wiped my eyes quickly and opened the door, not trusting the electric windows to work. He leaned against the frame, peering in at the dashboard where warning lights glowed.
"Looks like your little beast has finally given out on you," he stated the obvious.
"Yeah," I replied, my voice cracking. "So much for it lasting forever."
His dark eyes studied my face, but I couldn't tell if it was suspicion, concern, or annoyance in their depths. "Your mother okay? You seem quite flustered. You seemed bothered last night too."
The genuine concern in his voice caught me off guard, making me believe my worries were misplaced. He wasn't suspicious. I needed to relax.
I hesitated, then decided that a partial truth would serve my purpose.
"She's not doing too great," I admitted. "She has stage four ovarian cancer. I took this job hoping to afford the experimental treatment for her."
Something shifted in Jackson's expression—a softening around his eyes mixed with a strange hardness within them, and a tightness in his jaw. "I'm sorry to hear that," he said quietly. "Life isn't always fair. It sucks."
"Yeah, it does." My eyes filled with tears again, and I turned away, embarrassed by my lack of control.
"Let me help get your car properly parked," Jackson offered. "The company can deal with it. I'll give you a ride home after work."
I didn't bother to argue as he offered me his hand to exit the car. I undid my seatbelt and allowed him to help me out. The brief contact had my heart hammering, and I averted my eyes.
He leaned into the car, knocking it into neutral, and I stepped back as he leaned on the frame and began pushing it the last few feet into the parking lot.
Jackson's hand rested on the top of my car, his knuckles raw and scabbed. I almost asked what had happened but stopped myself. If Ivy was right about the Donatis, I didn't want to know how those wounds had been acquired.
"There, much better," he said once the car was fully in the parking space, and he removed the keys before pocketing them. "I'll get it sorted for you, don't worry about it."
"Thanks," I mumbled, not wanting to argue. It was clear my trusty steed had finally failed me, at the worst possible time too. I'd need to find another way to get away from here, one that hopefully didn't cost an arm and a leg. Maybe I could call upon a friend back home to come get us.