Chapter 8 #2
No child asked to be born into a ruthless crime family.
But we couldn’t pick and choose our parents.
Some got lucky and others were cursed. Either way, we often paid the price for our father’s sins with our own life, like Paolo.
I wouldn’t wish being born into a Mafia on any innocent child, which was why I didn’t want any.
Pretending I didn’t notice his reaction, I continued.
“I’m not a psychologist, but I wager the way I treated Isla was for her safety.
If I’d given her the things she really wanted.
For instance, marriage and a baby, she would’ve fallen deeper in love with me.
And vice versa. I would have fallen in love with her. ”
“But you were in love with her.”
“How do you know?” I hiked my brow, interested in how he’d come to that conclusion.
It wasn’t lost on me that Isla had been the one and only woman I’d kept around longer than a month.
For over a year, she’d been by my side and in my bed.
Of course, my family noticed, but none of that meant I loved her.
“It’s in your eyes, even now as you talk about her.”
“Well, shit.” I blinked as if it would change the damning truth. The fucking booze lowered my defenses and revealed my heart. The glare I usually wore hadn’t been natural, but forced, especially around Isla.
“You can’t hide it from me. I see everything,” Paolo said.
“I suppose you do.” I finished my drink and reached for the bottle to refill my glass. “Do you think it’s a bad idea reconnecting with Isla?”
“I don’t know.” He stared off into the distance. “I never give women much thought.”
“Good.” I raised my glass, praising him. “They’re nothing but trouble. We’re Mafia men. Remottis. Cursed until we take our last fucking breath.” I swallowed my drink in one gulp and reached for the bottle.
“I’ll order some food.” Paolo stood and went to the hotel’s phone.
“I don’t want to eat. Just drink.”
“But sir—”
“Don’t call me sir!” I yelled. Or it felt like I yelled. I couldn’t be for certain with the fast pounding in my eardrums, matching my rapid heartbeat. “I’m your goddamn cousin, Ciro!”
“Yes, sir.”
“I said call me Ciro!” I jumped out of my chair and threw my empty glass at the wall. My feet stumbled over each other, but I didn’t fall. I was long past the buzzing phase, after my fourth or fifth drink.
Paolo moved slowly toward me, probably preparing to catch me when I fell on my ass. But I was the fucking Don of the Remotti Mafia. Making a fool of myself was unacceptable.
Isla’s beautiful face flashed behind my eyes.
She’d cut her hair short and had on very little makeup, but she didn’t need to paint her face.
I liked her best au naturel. When she’d gone to get us water, she seemed to have put on a little weight.
Her hips were curvier than I recalled and her breasts were fuller.
But those eyes still mesmerized me. “Her eyes are the exact color of this amber bourbon. I could easily lose myself in them.” I studied the liquid in my glass.
“Yes, I know.”
I cut my gaze at Paolo. “You’ve looked into her eyes?”
“Ciro, are you serious or drunk?” Paolo poured a little more bourbon into his glass. “I’ve known Isla for some time.”
“Okay, okay.” I raised my hands. “I need to take a leak.” And on that note, I made my way to the bathroom and triumphantly didn’t fall.
An hour or so after my irrational outburst and silly musing about Isla’s amber eyes, I quietly ate the pizza Paolo had ordered for us. He didn’t question me, but I felt like I should say something. Not apologize, per se, though I probably should.
“I don’t know what got into me,” I said, finally breaking the silence.
“Too much bourbon.”
“Possibly.” I nodded in agreement. No question the alcohol had hit me hard and fast. Normally, I would limit myself to two drinks.
I couldn’t drink massive amounts anymore.
Being with Isla had sobered me and turned me into a social drinker.
I didn’t need booze or drugs to numb me, so I felt nothing.
But I hadn’t taken her rejection well. People didn’t tell me no, so walking away without causing a scene had been uncharacteristic of me.
Exhaling a deep breath, I cut my gaze at Paolo. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”
He shrugged. “You were blowing off steam like an emotional teenager.”
“Excuse me? I don’t have emotions.”
“Maybe the rest of the world believes that, but I know better.”
“Pfft. You know nothing.” I grabbed my glass of water and gulped.
“You’re right.” He picked up the pizza box and dirty napkins and took them to the bar for housekeeping to take in the morning.
“Are you placating me, so I’ll go to bed?” I checked the time on my Rolex. It was almost ten. With the three-hour time difference, my body felt like it was one o’clock in the morning, the same time I had been waking up and wearing the rug thin with my pacing the past couple of weeks.
“No, boss. Just got tired of looking at the mess.”
“You don’t need to call me boss when we’re alone.”
“But you’re my employer.” He brought me a new bottle of water.
“Thanks. But you’re also family, although I’m sure it hasn’t felt like it.”
“You’re not wrong. I’m used to it, though.”
“Shit, Paolo. You shouldn’t have to be used to it.” There had to be a way to give him more freedom and independence. He was a Remotti, after all. But I couldn’t think about that now. Isla was my number one priority while in San Francisco.
“So, tomorrow.” His voice trailed and I sensed he wanted to change the subject.
“Yes, what about tomorrow?”
“Are you going back to the bistro?”
“Yes, after I meet with Remo and Fabio. Hopefully, she’ll be there.”
“She will be.” He squared his shoulders as if preparing for my backlash. “I took the liberty of calling the restaurant and asking when you were in the bathroom.”
“I’m shocked, pleasantly so.” I stood from the sofa and clutched his bicep in appreciation. “I’ll retire for the night now.”
“Good night.” He nodded and I could tell he almost said boss. “Tomorrow will be a good day.”
“Hopefully. Unless she rejects me.”
“Nobody rejects you, Ciro, unless you let them. You can always force her, you know?”
“Force Isla to be with me?” I removed my button-down shirt. “Only a pathetic loser forces a woman to be with him.”
“Yes.” The corner of his mouth twitched like he was holding back a smile.
“Are you calling me a loser?” I grinned, finding this side of Paolo humorous.
“Never. But a desperate man will do anything to get what he wants.”
“Ah, yes. When it comes to Isla, I do feel desperate sometimes. In any case, there’s no forcing Isla to do anything.” I continued to my bedroom door, unbuckling my pants, suddenly exhausted. “She’s a fierce creature and won’t be controlled.”
“That’s because you let her do as she pleases. Not many Dons would allow such things.”
He had a point.
Made men did anything to get what they wanted, even forced marriage. But I couldn’t treat Isla like a piece of property and force her to be with me. I cared too fucking much about her to manipulate her into doing what I wanted.
She’d hate me.
I would hate myself.
Perhaps the time apart was exactly what we needed to realize we belonged together, no matter the dangers in my world.
With that final thought, I closed my door, stripped out of my clothes, and climbed into bed. Closing my eye, I saw my blonde beauty.
Maybe Paolo was right and tomorrow would be a good day. If not, I didn’t know what I would do. There was no way in hell my trip to California would be pointless.