Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
When I get to Carlo’s apartment, Jazzy is asleep and I’m slightly disappointed.
I’m not going to have much to do. I really should have fought Emmanuel harder on this whole babysitting thing.
I don’t know shit about kids. I do know that as far as kids go, Jazzy is a great one.
I’ve spent a bit of time with her over the last few weeks and have grown really fond of her.
It takes about thirty minutes of sitting on the sofa while scrolling on my phone before I hear her scream. I have the same reaction every time. I run into her room and scan for threats. Tonight, I find Jazzy sitting up in bed, tears falling down her cheeks.
“Oh, honey, it’s okay. I’m right here.” I sit on her bed and scoop her up into my arms. “Shh, it’s going to be okay.”
“I’m sorry,” she says.
“You don’t need to be sorry. It’s okay.” I rub a hand up and down her back. It’s the same whenever I babysit. She has nightmares. She won’t ever tell me about them, though.
“I have an idea,” I hum. “Ice cream and Snow White?” This kid loves anything and everything Disney princesses.
“Am I allowed to have ice cream? It’s really late,” she asks me.
“Hasn’t anyone told you?”
“Told me what?” she says.
“You’re a princess, Jazzy. You can have whatever you want.” I smile, and her whole face lights up too.
“Okay. Do you think Carlo will be home soon?”
She always asks when her dad is going to come back. I think she has a fear that he’s going to leave her like her mother did. I don’t know what to say to reassure her. Instead, I try to keep things light and fun. “I think he will be. Come on, let’s get that ice cream.”
Jazzy runs into the kitchen, beating me there. Where she gets this energy from, I have no idea.
“What flavor?” I ask her.
“Mmm, strawberry,” she says after opening the freezer and inspecting the contents.
“Perfect.” I grab two bowls from the drawer and then two spoons. After piling each bowl with pink ice cream, I carry them both into the living room. Jazzy sits on the sofa, and I hand her one before sitting next to her and picking up the remote.
“Do you think you’ll find a prince charming like Cinderella?” Jazzy questions me.
I smile. “Maybe one day.”
I have no intention of finding a prince charming. I think I’m more suited to the darker kind of prince. Except the one I found, the one I really like, doesn’t even know who I am. Not the real me.
“Carlo says boys are stupid,” Jazzy announces, and I laugh.
“He’s right. They are stupid,” I agree. “But you know what? Some of them are good too.”
“I think Carlo is a good one, and my uncles,” Jazzy tells me. “You could marry one of my uncles and then be my auntie like Auntie Charlotte.”
“I think I’m going to wait a few more years before I marry anyone,” I reply.
An hour later, Jazzy is asleep again, her head resting on my lap. I hear the sound of the elevator and look at the CCTV feed on my phone. It’s Carlo. He has no idea I’ve hacked into his cameras. I don’t intend to tell him either.
I know he has two to four guards standing at the bottom of the elevators whenever I’m here.
There’s also an additional guy inside the elevator.
I don’t trust any of them, though. Not after dealing with those two guys in the stairwell.
Who knows how many more people on their payroll are working against them.
Which is why I have access to all the footage from their casinos and was able to delete any sign of the “blonde woman” meeting up and speaking to E.
“Did she wake up?” Carlo whispers.
“Yeah, she had a bad dream,” I tell him, keeping my voice low.
“I’ll take her back to bed. You can go home. Thanks for doing this,” Carlo says.
“Anytime. She’s a great kid.” I look down at the absolute angel of a child.
“She really is.” Carlo bends over and pulls Jazzy into his arms before heading towards her bedroom, while I collect my things and take the elevator to the bottom floor.
I make it one step outside the casino before I’m stopped. Sammie. I smile. I had a feeling he’d be waiting for me. He looks extra tired. Whatever they did tonight has taken a toll on him. “Hey, are you waiting for me or…?”
“I wanted to take you home,” he says.
“Okay.” It’s not like I’m going to say no. Going home with Sammie isn’t a hardship.
“I can’t, though. Something’s just come up I need to deal with,” he tells me.
“Okay, go and deal with it. I’ll be fine.”
“I’ll come to your place later.”
I nod, stepping around him to walk down the street. Two blocks later, I’m stopped again. This time by someone I wasn’t expecting.
“I’ve seen you. With him. My son,” the woman says. I recognize her. Sammie’s mother.
“I’m sorry… do I know you?” I play dumb, hoping to get away from this without having to deal with her. I don’t know much about their relationship, but I do know Sammie doesn’t like having her around. He’s been stressed out ever since she came to town a few weeks ago.
“No, but you should. He’s not one for commitment. You should know that. He will throw you away like yesterday’s trash before long.”
“Who?”
“Sammie. He’s my son and I’m not about to let anyone take him from me. Especially not you.” A long red talon of a nail pokes me in the chest. I look down at the woman’s hand and then back up to her face. I have to remind myself that I cannot react how I usually would. I cannot hurt his mother.
Before I can say anything, I’m being shoved behind a body, a large body. “Ms. Russo, Fred is going to escort you back to the casino. Mr. Russo is waiting for you there,” one of Sammie’s goons says.
“Oh, he must really think you’re something special if he’s got a detail on you.” She laughs. She turns and storms off but not before adding, “Good, maybe now he’ll listen to me.”
Sammie’s guy waits until Ms. Russo is out of earshot before looking to me. “Are you okay, ma’am?”
“Ah… I’m okay.” I don’t know what else to say. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him I don’t need saving. Except the Lailani I’m supposed to be wouldn’t fight her own battles. And she would need saving.
“I’ll walk with you the rest of the way,” he says. “I’m Logan, by the way.”
“Hi… Lailani. But you really don’t need to walk with me. I’m fine,” I tell him.
“Boss would have my balls in a jar if I don’t.” Logan gives me a smirk that I’m sure melts the panties off most girls. Now it’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him his boss would likely cut his balls off for smiling at me like that too. I don’t, though.
“Well, we wouldn’t want to ruin your chances of fatherhood, now would we,” I say and start walking. Logan walks quietly beside me.
As soon as I’m locked in my apartment, I call Emmanuel. He’s back in Mexico, or at least he was last week. Who knows where he is currently?
“Lailani?” E answers.
“What does Sammie’s mother want from him?” I ask.
“Well, hello to you too. How have you been, old friend? Me? Oh, I’m just fine.” Emmanuel mimics a two-way conversation.
“I ran into her tonight,” I add.
“You what? Is she still breathing?”
“Of course she is. I’m not going to kill his mother,” I hiss through the phone.
“Usually people who threaten you don’t live to tell the story. Color me surprised,” Emmanuel hums through the phone.
“What makes you think she threatened me?” I counter.
“Because I know Ms. Russo.” He chuckles. “What’d she say?”
“That he’d get bored with me and throw me away like yesterday’s trash.” I sigh. “And then one of Sammie’s goons stepped between us when she poked me.”
“She poked you?” Emmanuel parrots. “And you didn’t break her finger?”
“And just how would I explain that? Oh, sorry I broke your mother’s finger, Sammie. It was an accident?” My voice drips with sarcasm.
“What happened? After the goon stepped in?”
“She left, said something about Sammie giving her what she wants now,” I explain. “What does she want?”
“I don’t know. If their history is any indication, it’s more money. She’s probably going to threaten you to get to him. I wouldn’t worry about it. Sammie can deal with his mother.”
“She’d threaten someone he likes to get to him? What kind of mother does that?” I grumble.
“Sammie’s mother… She’s always been jealous of anyone who comes into his life. She can be a little much. But she’s harmless really. Manipulative as fuck, but harmless,” Emmanuel says.
“Right, so… I just sit around and do nothing while my boyfriend is being manipulated by his mother for God only knows what reason?” I’m pacing up and down my living room.
“I thought he wasn’t your boyfriend,” Emmanuel muses.
“Shut up.” I cut the call and throw my phone onto the sofa.
Then I’m diving for it again. I should talk to Sammie, tell him I’m fine, tell him I don’t need him to protect me from his mother. I don’t know what she wants from him. But whatever it is, I don’t need him to give in to her for my sake.
How the hell do I explain that, though? I can’t. I’ve been lying to him since the day I met him. If I tell him the truth now, he’s going to hate me. And I’m not ready for him to hate me yet.