Chapter 6
CIRO
West End. A bistro? Why was she working in a restaurant? And doing what, serving customers? Cleaning up people’s messes? Mopping floors?
I cringed at the thought of My-la being exposed to germs and reduced to being a waitress. Or worse, she could be a dishwasher.
Cazzo! I couldn’t imagine any of that. Why had I succumbed to the temptation of looking for her? It was better not to know anything about her.
At least the place had a professional website. I clicked on some pictures. It was far from a dump. I’d go as far as to say it was trendy and upper class. And it had excellent ratings and awards.
But a bistro? In San Francisco?
Why wasn’t she in Pasadena, her hometown? Probably so I couldn’t keep tabs on her.
She didn’t need to worry. Not once had I tried to contact her, though I had wanted to many times over the past year. The fact of the matter was it was safer for her to stay away.
As much as I hated letting her go, I truly wanted the best for her. Until today…
I had so many questions. What had she been doing since graduation? Why wasn’t she working for a high-profile designer? Why didn’t she open an interior design firm?
Well, for one, she didn’t have money for the latter. Had we stayed together, I would have been the sole investor in her business.
All she talked about the year and a half we were together was opening her own business. She was so determined and excited. She had a solid plan. She had all the talent and drive to be successful.
None of this made sense.
I also wanted to know if she’d been with anyone else. Not that it was any of my business, just something I needed to know.
Rubbing the tips of my fingers on a spot near my heart, I pictured her the last time I saw her. So beautiful and… so heartbroken.
“Leave her alone,” I growled to myself. “Exit out of the website and move the fuck on.”
Shaking my head, I went back to the networking site to make sure I had the right Isla Martin. There wasn’t a picture, just initials IM. The previous work history and education matched my Isla. Except, no graduation date. Wouldn’t it be listed if she had completed her degree?
Isla had had one year left when she walked out of my life. So why wasn’t it listed? And why had she moved to the Bay Area of all places?
I stared at the monitor, trying to piece it together.
What the hell? The start date at the bistro was two months after the night she walked out of my life.
Drumming my fingers on the arm of my executive chair, I eyed my desk phone.
My curiosity was getting the better of me.
What happened to Isla? She couldn’t have run out of money to pay her last year.
A week after we ended, I’d deposited enough money into her bank account to pay for everything she could possibly need and then some.
Maybe she dropped out. Fuck, I’d feel terrible if she didn’t graduate because of me, too brokenhearted to function without me.
Part of the reason I hadn’t contacted her was because I knew she’d land on her feet. Isla Martin was strong and resilient. She had dreams and goals, hence breaking up with me because I wouldn’t marry her.
I rocked in my chair, wholly dumbfounded. Why would she work in a bistro when she had half a million dollars in her bank account? She wasn’t the type of person to blow it all in Vegas. She was way too responsible to squander that kind of money just to spite me.
But… She was the kind of person who wouldn’t spend a penny I’d given her.
“Goddammit! That had to be it!” I shouted at my screen. “She would reduce herself to poverty before she’d let me help her.”
Now, I needed to see her working in a restaurant with my own eyes. I honestly couldn’t imagine my beautiful, intelligent and talented girl as a waitress.
Without giving it another thought, I pushed the intercom button. “Millie, clear my schedule and reserve the jet.”
“When and where are you traveling to, Mr. Remotti? Do you have a return date?”
“Ten. SFO. No return date.”
There was a long pause. “Yes, sir.”
“Thank you.” I relaxed in my seat and drummed my fingers on my desk.
A bistro… That wasn’t right. Not right at all.
For the last several months, I’d felt something was off. I had ignored the weird feelings in my stomach, but it had intensified the last several weeks. I couldn’t figure out what was happening to me. I’d been doing okay… sort of.
I’d attributed my unease to the slow recovery of the drama-filled year my family and I had been through.
My younger sister, Rosa, had been missing for several months and it had been a dark time in the mansion. Padre had believed the worst, that we’d never see her again.
Admittedly, after six months of searching, my hope of recovering her in one piece had started to dwindle, too.
It’d been during that time that I’d felt great relief for Isla leaving me.
No question I missed her every damn day, but if she’d stayed with me and my crime family, she could have faced a similar situation like my sister.
Isla leaving had been a blessing in disguise… for her, anyway.
But for me, I’d been a miserable bastard.
No matter how hard I tried to forget Isla, it had been impossible.
Memories of her consumed me every second of every day, but that wasn’t unusual on its own.
The amount of time she occupied my thoughts were a testament to how deeply I cared for her and loved her.
Then a few weeks ago, out of the blue, I had heart palpitations. I thought I was having a heart attack, but our family physician had assured me that I was in perfect health. He’d said it sounded like a panic attack. The more I considered the possibility, the more it made sense.
If I weren’t such a stubborn asshole, I would’ve searched for Isla long before now, but my pride had gotten the better of me. Why would I search for her, when she left me?
Obviously, I didn’t mean as much to her as she had wanted me to believe.
So why was I looking for her after all this time?
Nightmares.
Horrible, heart-pounding, breath-stealing nightmares. The kind that if I’d been a child, I would have peed the bed from the fright they had given me. Most times, I couldn’t even recall them in their entirety after I woke up, drenched in sweat and disoriented.
And every terrifying dream had been about Isla.
However, the snippets I could recall had been of me saving her, over and over again, from various situations.
I felt it in my bones: Isla wasn’t okay. She wasn’t living her best life without me and was in some kind of trouble. But I couldn’t imagine what.
Perhaps my mind was fucking with me because I missed her. Either way, I needed confirmation she was safe.
Then again, I could be paranoid after everything my sister went through last year. But I suspected the nightmares were more about me needing Isla and not her needing me to save her.
Isla was strong when pushed to her limit. I’d taken her for granted, and she showed her strength when she walked out of my life.
Cazzo! I slammed my fist on my desk.
Nothing in my privileged world had mattered after My-la left me. And despite my attempts to erase her from my memory, my heart wouldn’t allow me to. Every detail about her had been seared on my soul.
The taste of her lips.
The feel of her fingertips trailing down my neck.
The smell of her skin and the sound of her moans.
Figlio di puttana! I pounded my mahogany desk, hating how much I still wanted her. Hating how nothing about her had faded from my memory. I wasn’t a teenager anymore. I was a grown fucking man who shouldn’t be thinking of his ex-girlfriend.
After all, she broke up with me! Me!
Last Monday night rushed back to me. I had woken up at one in the morning and couldn’t fall back to sleep. I felt on the brink of a panic attack as images of Isla flooded my mind. The same scene had haunted me a few more nights at exactly the same time: 1:00 am.
It was all so strange.
Even weirder, I had this odd need to walk the floor for an hour, sometimes two, before my mind settled. Honestly, if I wasn’t a God-fearing man, I might believe I was possessed by an evil spirit or something.
What sane person paced in their bedroom, groggy and exhausted? But there I’d been for multiple nights, going back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth like I had no control over my body.
The nightmares needed to stop once and for all. I couldn’t function on little sleep and was completely exhausted.
The decision to find Isla and put my worries to rest had been easy. Although, admittedly, the idea of being face-to-face with her scared the shit out of me.
Would she reject me?
Did she have a boyfriend? Or worse, a husband?
Impossible. Isla with another man was unfathomable.
What we had was special. Of course, I never admitted it to anyone, especially not to Isla. In any case, I knew that she was my person just as I was hers.
The day I met her, I’d known she was the one. I’d been free-falling for years, drowning myself in booze and women. Then on that gorgeous sunny day, Isla walked into my building and changed my life.
A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth as I remembered how quiet and obedient she’d been during the interview for the remodel of a resort and casino I’d acquired in Southern California. She’d sat there like a frightened mouse. The prettiest little mouse I’d ever seen.
The following week, I’d asked her to lunch, and she’d politely declined without hesitation, saying… I don’t mix business with pleasure, Mr. Remotti.
My smile broadened into a full grin as I recalled feeling challenged. No one had ever made me chase them before, and that was when I knew Isla was different from most women. My money and good looks hadn’t fazed her.
It had taken weeks to convince her to have dinner with me. She’d claimed she didn’t want to complicate her life. College was her focus—interior design was her passion.
The only reason she’d been at the interview was because her boss liked her and wanted her to be a silent observer.