Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
B ianca
When I come out of my room, I find Gaetano in the kitchen speaking Spanish with a woman. She’s tall and thin, and I’m an idiot for sighing with relief when I realize she has to be at least fifty.
She sees me first, and her eyes go wide. Then she looks to Gaetano.
Gaetano smiles, “Bianca, meet my housekeeper, Estelle. Estelle, this is my guest for a week or so. Bianca had a little problem, and until she’s clean, she’ll be here. I appreciate you looking after the both of us while she’s here.”
My stomach drops in shame at his words that he told her why I’m here. I blink back the tears I didn’t know were threatening.
“Bianca, what would you like for breakfast?” Gaetano asks me.
“I’m not hungry,” I shake my head as I back up. I want to throw up, not eat.
That fucking eyebrow lifts. “You will eat something. Your body needs fuel to get through the detox. Either you select something, or I will.”
Right, he’s not being a complete fucker because that’s his default setting. It’s to explain why I’m here. God forbid she thought I was here for some other reason.
“So over easy eggs and toast it is.” Gaetano nods.
“No, no. I hate over-easy eggs. Scrambled and toast is fine.” I mutter. And because I can’t take how sad her eyes are on me—like she knows I’m stupid somehow, I go into the living room and sit in the recliner with the remote in my hand, flipping aimlessly through the channels.
The woman is going into the room, and it sends me up after her. “I’m sorry. I can?—”
“Sit back down. Because there’s nothing to be sorry for.” A kind hand is on my arm. “No worries at all. If there’s something you want to put away, I’m going to grab the vacuum.”
I blush. “No, I just… I don’t know. I’m used to apologizing.”
“Bianca, your breakfast is ready.” Gaetano is in the doorway of the kitchen, his black eyes shifting between me and Estelle. “Orange juice is on the table.”
Nodding, I give the woman a grateful smile.
I’m back at work in the kitchen finishing up a paper when she asks me what I’d like for lunch. I tell her I’m fine with whatever she wants to make.
Only a few hours after lunch, she’s gone again. She tells me she’ll be back in three days and hopes to see me then.
Bianca
I walk into the kitchen to find Estelle cleaning out the refrigerator.
“Good morning. Gaetano went to grab some meat from a family business that only sells food on the weekend. You have to place your order the week before, and then you pick it up at the time they give you. He’s going to make you one of the best burritos you’ve ever had when he’s back.”
“Sounds good.” I force a smile. “I’m sorry about my room. I cleaned the bathroom yesterday. Well, not as good as you…”
“Every time you see me, you want to apologize for something. You don’t need to apologize. All you need to do is hold your head high and trust in who you are. Interesting, you don’t do the same with Gaetano.”
I shrug. “Gaetano isn’t expecting anything from me. When you look at me, it’s like you’re waiting for me to say something, and I don’t know what it is. So I get all worried that I’m disappointing you.”
“My apologies then. I would never want you to think you had to say something. I’m simply more surprised by you here than anything I’ve seen in Gaetano’s home before. And I’ve seen many things that surprised me here. You, as the first woman in Gaetano’s home, is a surprise.”
“I’m the first woman in his house, ever?” The words don’t make sense to me.
“Ever.” Estelle smiles. “He’s very particular about who he allows in his home. If he were willing to clean, I wouldn’t be here.”
A little ball of warmth appears in my chest. I’m the first woman he’s had in his home. It feels like a win…like I’m special to him. I want to do a happy dance, instead I decide to take the opportunity to find out more about Gaetano. “How did you meet him, like from a service or something?”
She shakes her head. “He hired me to cook and clean for his little brothers. They were slightly feral, not in a bad way, how they almost were if Gaetano hadn’t hired me. I was worried about telling them anything. Gaetano wouldn’t hear of them backtalking me or not doing what I told them. They made it to eighteen with their high school diploma and without spending time in a cell. That was all Gaetano was hoping for. Add to that, they both spent time in college, Dario got a degree because a teacher told him he wouldn’t.”
“Wait, he’s not that much older than his brothers. How old was he when he hired you?”
“He was fifteen years old.” She nods at my shock. “I was wondering if I should be calling the police instead of taking money from a kid. Until I realized he was mafia, and no one would appreciate that. I considered walking away, except I couldn’t do it. In the end, I’m glad I stayed.”
“Why does Nico never leave his house?” I’m curious.
Her face is one of pain. “He’s badly scarred. A horrible accident. Those damn glass tables.” She shakes her head. “It’s bad. He doesn’t want anyone to see him. So at turns Dario and Gaetano spend time with him to keep him from becoming a complete shut-in. I go in and clean for him and shop as he needs two times a week—the same as I do for Gaetano.”
“How sad.”
“Very.”
It hits me. If she knew him before… “Did you know his wife?”
An eyebrow goes up high. “I did. That girl.” She shakes her head. “The worst thing that happened to him. She didn’t just ruin his life—she ruined him. A girl, that’s all she was and wanted to be.”
Damn. I have a feeling that if the dead woman were here, Estelle would do some damage to her.
“You will need to be patient with him. She really fucked him up.”
I shake my head, face red. “It’s not like that. He doesn’t want me…” I shrug, pretending I’m not hurt. “To Gaetano, I’m a pain the ass kid. He’s helping me because it helps my brother.”
Her smile almost overtakes her face. “Okay, if that makes it easier to get through the time you’re spending here.”
“It’s true. Gaetano, he, um. And that’s okay. I mean, I’m not interested in him either. He’s bossy, and rude, and mean, and he’s a…”
Chuckling, she begins putting things back in the fridge. “And he’s kind to those he cares about, is extremely loyal, thoughtful, compassionate, intelligent—that degree might have taken longer to get but he got it with honors.”
“Wait, Gaetano graduated university? Did he go to UNLV?”
“He did attend UNLV. When he was fifteen, he got his GED so the state would leave him alone about not going to school. Then when he was basically ordered to marry, he decided he should get his degree. It was more about hoping his wife would follow his lead, since he wanted her to do something to occupy her. She hated school. Gaetano liked it enough he quickly went from part-time to full-time. The problem with the mafia is that it’s not really a nine to five?—”
The front door opens, and we both drop our eyes, both sure Gaetano wouldn’t like us talking about him. He appears in the doorway of the kitchen.
“Hi, Estelle said you would be feeding me the best burrito ever. I can’t wait.”
Those black eyes flick between me and Estelle. A nod is all he gives. He looks around the kitchen. “Have you eaten?”
Swallowing hard, I shake my head. “I only woke up two minutes ago.”
“Two minutes?” An eyebrow goes up as he looks to Estelle.
She laughs and throws the washcloth she has in her hand. “Get on with you. Do you need me to cook you breakfast this morning?”
“No, I’ll do it. What would you like, angel?”
“A refried bean burrito and cheese, please,” I murmur as I escape the kitchen.
Gaetano
Every fucking day Dario calls and asks if Bianca is gone. When I tell him she’s not, he swears and hangs up on me. Between him and Sandro calling and checking up on me after I text him that I’m feeling better, and if he should need me, I’m available, the guilt is eating away at me. Especially as I watch Bianca shrink day by day.
It doesn’t matter that I know it’s the right thing for the both of us, I hate hurting her. While I accepted long ago I could never be a source of joy, I don’t like being a cause of pain.
When I see her going to bed without taking gummies, I’m angry, aware she’s pushing it to see if she still needs them. Her sleep is shit, but she does make it through the night without giving in.
I stew as I try to figure out how to call her on it without admitting how I know. She’s barely out of the bedroom when I get a call. I’m intent on sending it to voicemail when I see it’s Sara.
Fuck. She hasn’t called me often. If she’s calling, she needs help. I don’t want to answer in front of Bianca. Then again, maybe it’s better if she thinks there’s more to the call than there is.
“Yeah,” I answer.
“Gaetano, a fucking water main busted in front of the shop. The city is talking like it’s my—your fault, and they’re screaming that you need to be the one to take care of it. Twenty grand, the fucking fire marshal is saying it’s going to cost twenty fucking grand. That can’t be, can it?”
“Sara, take a deep breath. How the fuck is a water main going to bust?”
“I don’t know they called me at home and demanded I come down here. Please, I’m sorry to bother you, but nothing they’re saying makes any sense.”
I check the time, it’s a little after nine. “Let me see if I can get a flight out. I don’t want to ask Luca to borrow the jet. Hold on.”
In my office, I pull up the private plane company I’ve used often. The flight to and from LA is only an hour. Getting in and out of LAX to her shop on the edge of Beverly Hills took almost as long. Flying private cut the time in half and was worth it to me. Especially when I was trying to keep my trips in and out of LA off anyone’s radar.
I make a call, and they can have the private plane ready to go in half an hour.
Shit. Out of my office, I find Bianca back in my bedroom with the door open while she’s packing her backpacks again.
I’m shaking my head. Bianca beats me to it. “It’s time. I feel better. I haven’t taken anything since yesterday afternoon. You’re needed, and I…thank you for everything. She needs you, and I’m good now.”
All I want to do is argue, except there’s nothing I can say that can make her stay when she’s right. Keeping her here is only prolonging the pain—for both of us.
“Fine. Hold on, you’re not going to be able to pack everything in those.” I go into my walk-in closet and grab a leather duffle bag.
She shakes her head. “You’ve given me so much already.”
“And you’ll take this too. I never use it.”
“All right.” She gives in.
I can’t stand watching her pack and go into the living room. Calling Sara. “Hey, I’ll be on a flight to LA in the next half hour. Don’t sign anything they try and put in front of you. If they want to talk to someone, give them my number.”
“I will. Thank you, Gaetano.”
Turning, I find Bianca walking toward me. She offers me the laptop. I shake my head. “Keep it. I have no need for it.”
“Neither do I.”
“Give it away. And don’t forget.” I hand her back the keys I took from her purse when she was asleep the first night.
“Don’t forget what?” Her brow is furrowed in question.
“This never happened.”
“Right.” She nods before she walks away.
Like the coward I am, I don’t watch her leave, it’s only when the front door closes behind her that I exhale.
Gaetano
I’m grateful for the demanding next few hours.
The water main break was not on me as the owner of the building, considering it was caused by the city repairing the street on the other side of the block.
I’d purchased the building as an investment when I came out to help Sara look for space to rent. She had plans for a lash business for years, but always wanted to do it with her sister-in-law, who was an in-demand hair stylist. They couldn’t agree on when and where to do it since her sister-in-law wanted to stay home with her kids.
There were massive repairs needed that lowered the cost of the building, so it was a good thing it wasn’t ready to be inhabited yet. From talking to one of the other owners of a building down the block, the fire department wanted the blame and cost to fall on the building owner rather than the city.
By the time I’m back in Vegas, I’ve almost managed to forget that I’m walking into an empty house. Until I do.
Dario, with perfect timing, calls as I close the front door behind me.
“Is she still there?”
“No.”
“Oh…”
I don’t want to hear what he has to say, so I hang up.
Walking into my bedroom, I can’t find anything to show she was here. Yet I can still smell her as if she just left the room.
Even though I know I shouldn’t I pull up the camera in her room. She’s in bed with the covers up to her neck. Her roommate is sitting on the edge of her own bed.
“Are you sure? You’re giving me a brand new computer barely used?” The roommate is holding the laptop in both hands.
“Yeah, I don’t need it. You said your battery was overheating. Sandro got me a new one for my birthday a few months ago. He didn’t want to have to come onto campus for mine.”
“Thank you. Now I feel bad about being relieved you stayed away from school because you were sick.”
“It’s fine. I understand completely. I’m still not feeling great, though. So I’m going to try and get some sleep.”
“Oh sure. I’m going to go out into the common area. I’ll turn off the light. Good night.”
The light goes off as the roommate steps out of the room.
I hear sniffling from Bianca and turn off the feed. Closing my eyes, I fall asleep with my cell phone on my chest.
Bianca
It’s been a week since I left Gaetano’s house. Every morning I wake up resenting like fuck that I’m in my dorm room and not his room.
“Are you feeling okay?” Sandro asks me for the second time.
I nod. “Yeah, sorry. I don’t know. Maybe I’m coming down with something.”
“Huh, you never get sick. Same with Gaetano. I think he’s gotten sick two or three times in all the years I’ve known him. He got the flu, and I still don’t think he’s back to normal. It feels like every time I call him, he’s in bed.”
My eyes are glued to the coffee I’m sipping on. “Maybe he’s busy kicking puppies or something and doesn’t want you to know.”
He rolls his eyes. “You can’t still be mad at him.”
“Says you. I can stay mad at him all I want. Is he not helping you when he should?”
“It’s nothing.” The brush-off is one I’ve gotten every time I ask him about Outfit business. “You really want to stay on campus over the summer?”
I steal his move and exhale an almost laugh. “Please, you’re happy I’m staying on campus and not going to the hotel. I want to stay in school mode. The sooner I get my degree, the better.”
I’m afraid I’ll run into Gaetano in the hotel. While I think I could manage to go months, maybe even a year or two, without running into him—I don’t trust myself not to want to run into him.
Gaetano said it never happened. But it did. I don’t want to forget it did either.