Chapter Twenty-six
Noah
Pouring yet another glass of bourbon, I stood in front of the picture window and stared unseeingly at the scenery below. My phone rang, but I ignored it. When it stopped, it started up again not long after.
I kept ignoring it.
Finally, my father came barging into my room with the phone in his hand. “You can’t dismiss everyone’s calls, Nero. It could be important.”
“Nothing is important right now,” I said quietly, positive he didn't hear me.
The phone rang again, and he swiped angrily at it. “What?” he barked into it.
I never turned around, never asked him who it was. I could see him frowning out of my periphery, but tuned out what he was saying.
“That was Dr. Hogan,” he said after a lengthy conversation. “I told him he has some explaining to do, but he swears he didn't know either.”
Drinking from my glass, I continued staring down at Central Park South.
“After asking around, he found out that Dr. Johnson knew she’d taken the deal in exchange for opening her parents’ cold case, but he was instructed not to tell anyone else.
They gave her the leave of absence so she could focus solely on me, but they specifically didn't discuss her because they were each hiding something.”
I shrugged. “It’s all moot.”
In fact, none of it mattered in the tiniest amount. She hated me, and I hated her. The end.
“So you’re just going to stand here all day, every day, and wallow? You love her, for fuck’s sake. Figure out how to make it right.”
Anger built inside me, but I tried to keep myself in check. Drinking always put my control at the end of a thin thread, and it would snap easily if I didn't hold on tight. “There’s no possibility of making it right.”
“You both did things you regret,” he began.
Fury simmered closer to the boiling-over point. “I’m warning you to stop pushing me, old man.”
“We read her texts!” he shouted. “She told them she was done once you started dating. The truth was right there in black and white.”
“So help me.” Taking a deep breath, I spun on him. “What part of I murdered her parents do you not understand? She loathes me, and I would say the feeling is mutual.”
He matched both the tone and volume of my voice. “Why, because she played us and we didn't see it?”
I snorted. “As a matter of fact, I told you all it took was a pretty face for you to forget your rules, and I was right.”
“Except I knew who she was from the start. I can’t be mad at her now for doing what she had to do.”
“Well, I can, because you didn't have the courtesy to tell me her true identity!” Finally fed up, I swallowed the rest of the bourbon and went back to the liquor cabinet. “I wanted to do a background check. I wanted to have someone tail her, and if I’d kept that up, we’d have seen her meeting with them! ”
“In other words, you’re pissed at yourself because you dropped your guard for once in your life.”
Filling the next glass to the top, I responded, “All it did was prove I’ve been right to leave my walls up.”
“Congratulations. Now you’re right but lonely.” He tossed my phone on the bed and walked out, slamming the door on the way.
Not that long ago, I’d realized I would do anything for her, be anyone for her, but she’d thrown it back in my face. She’d kept more than her identity from me; she'd failed to mention she set out to ruin me from the start.
Time didn't heal all wounds as people claimed.
Look at the years that had transpired between that awful night and now.
She hadn't healed; she had adapted, but it had affected her daily life for the worse.
Even if I could forgive her, which I wasn't saying I could, there was zero chance of her forgiving me.
Her male family members had proven to be deadly adversaries, which meant I did the right thing.
I was only sorry Carmine hadn't been alone—not that I planned on giving her a pointless apology for killing her mother.
We had to move on with our plans to kill her second cousin. He’d proven to be more ruthless than Carmine, and we couldn't allow him to keep killing people he didn't like in order to expand his territory. We’d cut out that kind of nonsense years ago.
If Lombardi wanted to go down with the ship, that was fine by me, too.
Despite my effort to the contrary, her face appeared in my vision once again, playing on repeat the way she seemed to break right in front of my eyes as she admitted she’d been working with the FBI to put me in prison.
Worse, though, was the way she kept asking if I’d pulled the trigger or if Dad had done it.
Which of the men she had grown to love was responsible for killing her family and putting her on a path of misery and sorrow?
The answer was me, but it didn't matter if I admitted it out loud or not. My refusal to respond was enough of an answer. She’d never believed my excuses or half-truths when I covered up what we were doing, and she wouldn't start now. With a heavy pounding in my head, I wondered if she would go back to working with them, trying her damndest to punish me for a decades-old crime. We’d have to be even more careful with our activities if the feds were onto our scent, though we always did our best to cover our tracks.
She couldn't have overheard anything damaging if Dad and I were still on this side of the razor wire, and there was zero chance of her getting close enough again to hear me say anything incriminating.
I poured another bourbon, realizing I couldn't recall how many that made for the day, much less how many I’d had since she left.
If I could drown myself in the liquor, I would take that option, because my life was quickly being reduced to nothing more than wreckage.
Part of me wanted to betray my oath and turn my back on my father and his organization, but the bigger part of me knew that wasn't a true option; the life we led was ingrained in our DNA, not something we could set aside and forget.
Besides, it wouldn't matter if I went through with it or not. Our enemies would always see me as Benito Costa’s son and his heir to the empire.
I would never be out from under the destruction and death.
I would never be innocent again.
Which meant it was for the best that we’d detonated our relationship when we had.
Between her illusion of morals and my severe lack thereof, we would never have been compatible long-term.
Of course, at the time I labeled her as scrupulous, I didn't know she was a backstabbing liar selling me out to the highest bidder.
“Still wallowing?” I heard my father say.
Shrugging, I finished pouring my drink and tossed the empty bottle in the trash. “If you want to call it that.”
“What would Sailor have to do in order for you to forgive her?”
I winced at the sound of her name. For days, I’d carefully avoided thinking it or saying it out loud. She was really Sara, anyway, but that name made my skin crawl. It only reminded me of what I’d done to her the last time she went by that name.
“Why do you care?” I finally answered. “Just pick one of the women you said I’d have to marry and send her to me.”
He scoffed, sounding disgusted with me. “Don't you know when I’m bullshitting you? I knew if I threatened you with a Russo or a Lombardi, you’d lean even closer to Sailor.”
“Stop saying her name!” I set my glass down with a snap, and the contents sloshed over the side. “I can’t forgive her for what she did!”
Rubbing his temples, he moved closer to me. “Get yourself the fuck together, Nero, or I’ll do it for you. Stop drinking like your life depends on it, and get your head out of your ass!”
So help me God, I wanted to punch my own father in the mouth to shut him up. “Do you honestly think you can order me to get over this? Do you think I can just pick up the leftover pieces and glue them back together?”
“A complete stranger made a deal in exchange for finding the answers she’d searched for her entire adult life. She didn't know you, didn't know me, and didn't discover anything important anyway. Yet you’ll continue punishing her for making the obvious choice?”
It wasn't just the deal she’d made that fucked with me. It was seeing how long it took her to give it up.
I’d made love to her before she told them she was done.
I’d taken her virginity, being more gentle than I'd ever been in my life. She’d told me she loved me, though she wasn't sure what love felt like.
I had spilled my guts to her, and the entire time, she had reported my words and actions back to Special Agent Patricia Lauder of the motherfucking Federal Bureau of Investigation.
That betrayal ran deep.
How did I explain that to Dad, though? How did I manage to lay all of that out for him in a way that wouldn't embarrass the fuck out of me?
“I don't think you understand how far things had progressed before she called it quits with them.”
When he put his hand on my shoulder, I didn't hate it as much as I had lately. “The first date couldn't be enough to know her heart.”
“Or the second, or the third?” Peeling off the seal on another bottle, I avoided his gaze. “I’m supposed to be okay with knowing she slept with me for information?”
Dropping his hand, he said, “That’s not fair.”
“None of this is fair!” I shouted, desperate to throw the full bottle straight through the window.
“Surely you don’t believe she had sex with you for the sole purpose of hoping you’d talk in your sleep?”
I didn't know what I thought; I just knew the nagging voice in my head wouldn't let me rest. I knew I couldn't focus on anything, I couldn't eat, and nothing held my interest. Thankfully, we weren't working on anything new, or I would only be a hindrance.
“Have the men run their contingency plans for taking out Franco and Lombardi? We can’t have something going wrong at this point. They have to die.”
For a long minute, he didn't respond to my change in subject. “Both have gone underground, but the word is they’re planning a buy on the same day as the wedding.”
“Have you considered that it might not be a coincidence? Why pick that specific day to come out of their burrow?”
“We have, yes. We’ll bump up security even more than we’d planned, considering we’re all going to be in the same building at the same time.”
“They’re covering for something.” Swirling my glass, I stared down at the amber contents. I should have had an idea what they might be thinking, but my brain wasn't at full capacity.
“I know. Your sister’s safety is paramount.”
When I met his gaze, I had a hard time holding back the threatening tears, but I couldn't show my weakness. My sister would have the wedding of her dreams, the marriage of her dreams, and I would have the business.
My phone rang from the spot on the bed where Dad had thrown it. Without meaning to, I glanced at the caller ID.
The realtor.
“If you want, you can answer that and tell her I’m not buying a house after all.” Squeezing my eyes shut, I continued, “I would do it, but I’m afraid I’ll come off rude as hell.”
“You said you wanted to move out even before you thought it would be with—”
“It’s not worth it,” I interrupted loudly before he could say her name. “Maybe I’ll just stay here until you match me with someone.”
“I’m not fucking matching you with anyone, Nero,” he said in a low voice. “I will not sit by and watch you tear yourself apart from the inside, and I will not advocate for you marrying someone you don’t even know.”
“Then you won’t get an heir to continue the Costa line after I’m gone.”
Why did that punch me square in the gut? Kids had been a far-off idea, ethereal and made for future me to worry about.
And then she had changed all that, bumping up my timeline for happiness before ripping it out of my grasp.
Standing so close I could make out the gold flecks in his deep brown eyes, Dad said, “Then I’ll hand the reins over to Giovanni and any children he and Vittoria might have.”
Emotion choked me, but I forced it back.
“I won’t force you to live your life in misery. Only you have the power to do that.”