Chapter 6
Iunbutton my suit jacket and stretch out my legs under the table, careful to keep my holster concealed. I have too many fucking eyes on me, of horny young girls and intimidated boys.
But they are the least of my concerns.
My mind, body, and ears are fucking narrowed in a sniper shot, focusing on what is happening across from me. Eva and the idiot she calls her boyfriend. I am a pained man, and I have no intention of pretending otherwise, at least not to myself.
I should not be glaring at the kid the way I am, but it’s a reflex. My mind paints images of reaching out and snapping his neck.
I will kill him.
I had meant that without needing to add the part of him misbehaving to warrant it.
He has her; that’s enough reason to kill him. He doesn’t have to do more than that. The fact that he can look at her the way he is, the fact that he is touching her the way he is, the fact that he can whisper things to her, and she dares to fucking blush at the idiotic sound of his voice… All of that is solid ground for a death wish.
I want to say there is something about him that unsettles me, because frankly there is. But how can I be sure it has nothing to do with the fact that he is the one she is being all lovey dovey with?
I tear my eyes from him, overcoming the incessant urge to punch his sunken jaw. I drop my eyes to my phone screen, refreshing my message to see if Mindy has replied to my text.
I am not physically present in their lives, but I care a great deal about them, especially about him. They are better off away from me. It’s the best way to keep the dangers of this life at bay and allow them to have normal lives—the lives that they deserve.
That is a noble reason to keep my distance; the other reason is that no one can find out what I did.
I refresh again. I know she won’t be answering anytime soon, but I keep refreshing; perhaps if I focus my anger on being ignored by her, I will be able to live through the torture of watching Eva practically sprawled on the kid. Pete, Paul or whatever the fuck he goes by.
Eva says something, and Gloria giggles. Most of her talks with her loser of a lover are hard for me to hear, and sometimes, like just now, I can”t make anything out. Gloria whispers something back, and Eva loses it, throwing her head back and then dropping it on Paul’s shoulder as a ping of laughter shrieks through her.
I grind my teeth, wanting to be let in on the joke. The very one that seems to be making her laugh in that cackling way.
He has got her real good.
I want her to be happy, to enjoy her youth, and not have certain things denied to her. This is what I want, but it doesn’t mean it hurts any less.
My phone begins to vibrate in my hand, and some molecule of hope that Mindy might be the one calling gets doused with a spring of water when I see the screen and Emanuele’s name flashes on it.
Great.
The cafeteria is not as loud as it was an hour ago, so I take the call on the spot.
“Where the bloody hell are you?” Emanuele barks. He is not known for losing his temper except when it comes to either Vittoria or Eva, the fucking apple of his eyes.
“We will be back soon,” I hedge his question.
“From a different planet or what? You were supposed to be back home two hours ago and you are still on your way?” I hear the sound of his lighter flicking, a habit he’d stopped after marrying Vittoria. If he is back at it now, it means he is worried.
He has every reason to be. He’s got a madman of a son roaming about. Salvatore is unstoppable, and I should be more careful.
I button up my suit jacket. “She needed supplies for her photography class,” I lie. “She will be home soon,” I stand by that. I don’t think he can tell I lied, but I know he can tell something isn’t adding up.
“Supplies? What kind?” He grinds.
I clip my tongue, refusing to answer. Anything I say next can and will be used against me, especially if he finds out I am lying, which he would if I say anything else. Emanuele is too involved in Eva’s life; he knows practically every piece of equipment and term in photography.
“Bring her home; supplies be bloody damned,” he waits for a second, and then the call goes off.
That’s an order.
I toss my phone in the inner pocket of my suit and clear my throat louder than needed so Eva can hear me. I don’t go over; she knows it’s the signal that I need her here. She grumbles something before standing up and coming over to me.
“Time to go,” there is no room for argument in my tone.
“We are not done with…” She attempts to protest because she wouldn’t be Eva if she didn’t try to make things difficult for me. “Give me a minute to gather my things,” she slacks and returns to the table to begin packing up.
“I told your father we went to pick up some supplies for your photography class,” I stop the car in front of the main building of the estate.
“And I am supposed to thank you,” she rolls her eyes.
Eva has been quiet since she entered the car and we drove off, and it borders on annoying because it makes me want to fill the void with words I seem to be coming short of. I was waiting for her to chide me, to say something to me, anything at all, but nothing.
For most of the drive, she was talking to Vittoria on the phone about how the baby shower should look. But I cannot shake the feeling that she’s being quiet because she misses the dumbass—I mean, her boyfriend.
I cannot but think she sees me as the enemy of their love story for peeling her off him and bringing her back home.
“I won’t do it again,” I unlock the car door.
“Get in the way of love?” She snorts.
I was right then. She is mad at me for asking her to leave. Does she like him that much?
“Hmm.” I swallow the sting. I cannot promise not to get in their way when her safety is concerned. “I won’t lie to cover up for you,” I turn off the car.
“Ah, that,” she opens the door, “In that case, thank you,” she steps out, her strap bag and camera bag hanging separately on both shoulders.
I climb out, knowing I need to see that she is inside and safe before focusing on other business, not that any feels as thrilling as the business of being close to her in the way I have been today.
She goes into the white and gold interior, and I stalk behind her—watching her every move and trying to make out her sulking face from behind. I want to make her feel better, but I don’t know how to fucking go about it. I hate the kid, and I hate that she is this way because she misses him, but if bringing him to her will make her feel better, I might consider it.
I drag a hand through my hair and pull slightly to nudge my brain back to functionality because I am beginning to lose it. Thinking about bringing the boy here? I have completely lost it.
“Papà,” Eva lightens up as Emanuele appears at the top of the stairs. He has a frown directed at me, and I hold it down for the both of us with some of my own. She climbs the stairs to him, and he gives her a quick hug before letting her go.
She looks over her shoulders at me as she disappears into the hallway that leads to her bedroom. The same hallway I have paraded most nights, wanting to be near her somehow.
I climb the stairs as Emanuele returns to where he came from—his study. I am ready for what is to come and relieved that he didn’t take it out on her. Emanuele can hardly take anything out on Eva. He prides himself on being tough, but from the day she was born, I have watched him take more bullshit from the girl than everyone in the world put together.
I stop before the slimly opened study door, the waft of tobacco sweeping out to prick my nostrils. I tip the door with my index finger and slip inside to the growling eyes of Emanuele behind his mahogany desk. The mute light messes with the quiet interior color and the gray of his T-shirt, which is the same color as his hair and beard.
He takes his cigar between his middle and index fingers and puffs out the smoke in his mouth, watching me while he swings from side to side on his swivel chair. We can do this all century.
“Should I begin to question your efficiency?” He taps the butt of his cigar on the ashtray on the desk.
I don’t say anything to that; there is nothing to say. It brings the heat from her to me.
“Art supplies?” He spikes an eyebrow.
“It was urgent,” I manage out. He seems to weigh my words and perhaps my stance. He has no reason not to believe what I am saying, no matter how bullshit all of it sounds.
“Bloody reckless, that’s the word, not urgent, Fabio,” he grits, and I nod. Emanuele might be my best friend, but he is also my boss, and I know my place. Which is not beneath him; it is loyal to him. “This recklessness is making me question my decision to marry her to you, you know what she means to me, and it is for this reason I thought you would understand and protect…” He hangs his tongue, his eyes sprinting to the door.
I look back to see Vittoria in amustard-yellow dress, her jet-black hair pulled back in her signature tight ponytail, her black, drowsy eyes—which I assume have something to do with the life growing inside her—her flawless face devoid of makeup, andher glossylips spreadinginto a lazy smile as she taps her wristwatch at Emanuele. His eyes melt like they always do when she is around. He nods.
“We don’t want to be late for the antenatal,” she smiles at me. “Hey, Fabio.”
“Vittoria,” I tip my head.
“I will be out in a minute,” Emanuele stands, presses the butt of the cigar against the ashtray to put it out, and walks out from behind his desk.
“I will be outside waiting,” Vittoria says, stepping out of the scene and closing the door behind her.
“I want to think this one-time slip will remain that: a one-time slip,” Emanuele chides. “I don’t want to have to take it all back. Don’t make me regret choosing you,” he steps aside, and I nod.
I want to tell him that his decision is unnecessary because Eva already has a boyfriend she loves, and I would give her that much because I promised to. But whenever Eva is concerned, I choose to keep her secret safe, no matter that my loyalty should be with Emanuele.
I stalk out of the study, my eyes catching the frame of her bedroom door in the hallway.
It is her I cannot betray.