23. Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Three
Natalie
“ Y ou are not going to believe this!”
Danielle’s unbearably loud voice and unceremonious entrance into my apartment have me groaning and reaching for my pillow in hopes that I can suffocate myself before she gets to my room.
I know I shouldn’t have given her a spare key, but she was going crazy with her theories about people who died of broken hearts.
In her words, “ I don’t want you to be a dead stink by the time I can break the door down.” Reiterating that I wasn’t going to let a man be the cause of my death didn’t seem to work on her.
“Natalie!” She yells, throwing my door open. I hold the pillow harder over my head, begging the flimsy thing to muffle the sound so I can get more sleep.
Who the hell said it was a good idea to get organic pillows?
When she reaches out and yanks it off, I snatch the covers from the foot of the bed and curl into a ball, burying myself underneath the thickness. “What are you doing?” She asks. “You’re supposed to be asking me what I’m talking about.”
“I don’t want to know,” I grumble. “My head is throbbing, and it’s the weekend, Danielle. I’m entitled to some sleep.”
“It’s ten a.m.,” she says.
I peek from one end of the sheet, pinning her with a death stare. “And? I worked my ass off yesterday and still had to fend off a client who couldn’t understand that my job didn’t involve catering to his every whim.”
I thought he was being nice when he offered to walk me home after our second consultation. I should’ve known he was cuckoo when he asked if he could come in. I said no, and he said he could make me a cup of coffee.
How can you make me a cup of coffee in my apartment, sir????
I needed the cash, though. And the distraction the job provided.
“I’m sorry that you feel like shit,” Danielle says, although I doubt she means it, “but you’ll want to see this. Trust me.”
When she shoves her phone at my face, almost breaking my nose, I’m forced to ditch my efforts to get more sleep. I grab her phone, intending to make quick work of seeing and dumping, but my eyes grow wide like saucers when I see what’s on the screen.
“I told you!”
“Danielle,” I whine, “take it down a notch, please? I’m dying here. You wouldn’t want my head splitting open before I can figure out what the fuck I’m looking at.”
Because, what the fuck?
My heart is pounding as I stare at the screen. The words blur together, but the message is unmistakable .
Ethan Cross. Crime syndicate. Mafia boss.
It’s everywhere. Every damn where.
Danielle folds her arms, her expression caught between vindication and exasperation. “I knew it. I knew he was shady. Who the hell goes radio silent after meeting someone like you?” She gestures at me, throwing in a backhanded compliment before shaking her head. “Other than a man with ties to the mob?”
A chill runs through me. I try to rationalize it—maybe it’s some sensationalist hit piece, a smear campaign. But deep down, I know better.
I didn’t misread that. I didn’t imagine it.
Ethan Cross. The man who kissed me like he owned me. The man who made me question everything, from the definition of lust to what it felt like to be consumed by one person. The man I—
I swallow hard, shoving that thought deep down.
Because apparently, the man I’ve been tangled up with isn’t just powerful. He’s dangerous.
“Did you see the men at his house when we were there?” Danielle goes on a rant, trying to prove her point, while my head hangs low as I deal with the information. “They were all big, muscular, and shady. I was trying to keep it cool the entire time, but I felt the bad vibes until we left.”
She collects her phone from me and plops down on the bed. “Damn. The articles? The blinds? They’re saying that he’s killed a ton of people.”
“I know we’re not supposed to believe everything a hundred percent because the internet is fucking crazy, but apparently, he gave the order that fueled the shooting in the neighborhood where your parents…” Danielle trails off, catching herself midway, but the damage has been done .
My neck snaps back as my eyes narrow. “What did you say?”
She shakes her head hurriedly, backpedaling as quickly as possible. “No—nothing. I was talking about the stuff they said he’s done. He’s dangerous, and I’m glad you left him when he did.”
“No.” I exhale slowly, feeling my heartbeat slow as the implication of her statement settles. It feels like I just stepped on the edge of a knife. “You said something about my parents. What about them, Danielle?”
Danielle laughs nervously and takes my hand, patting it. But every nerve ending in my body has gone cold, except for the single organ now filled with dread. Sinking, drowning dread that sucks out the air from my lungs.
For years, I wondered, carrying around a question I didn’t have the answer to. I always wondered, “What did they do to deserve it?”
Now, I’m asking another question, and I’m not sure I want to know the answer.
“Is he responsible for my parents’ death?”
She’s silent.
“Where did you find it?” My voice is high-pitched and frantic as I reach for her phone.
Danielle is a step ahead. She grabs it off the bed and skates a few steps away. “Danielle.” My foot gets caught in the covers as I lunge for her, trying to cover the distance between us in one stretch.
Unfortunately, my foot doesn’t keep the rest of my body from falling forward like a limp doll, and my head takes the brunt of it, hitting the floor with a thud.
“Shit,” Danielle hurries over and helps me up. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. I just—” she sighs while I rub the top of my head. “It was a comment, nothing more. It’s obvious how people talk. They see something and connect dots that aren’t there. ”
But there’s a possibility. A slim chance that one of Ethan’s illegal sanctions could’ve been the cause of my parents’ death. The thought feels like a death bell wound around my neck, pulling me from every which way.
I gave him everything—reaching into the depths of my vulnerability even when I had every reason to run away.
To slam the door in his face.
How could I have been so stupid? I should’ve seen the signs: the men with identical wolf tattoos, the scar running down Ethan’s spine, his unexplained presence and unaccounted absence at Anthony’s apartment, and the way everyone treated him like he held enough power to break them.
When he called me a spy, I should’ve turned around and dug deep into the secrets he was trying so hard to keep hidden.
What was it—love? Did I come to fall in love with the wrong person after years of guarding my emotions?
Where did logic go? Sanity? How could Danielle have seen what I couldn’t, and yet I waded deep into uncharted territory?
If he killed them—
A sob rips out with so much force that it knocks the air from my lungs. I cry out, and Danielle scoops me into her arms before I can fall apart.
“I’m here,” she whispers as I cling to her, gripping her shirt tight. More sobs pulse through my body, and my shoulders tremble, each breath feeling like it might be my last. “I’m here, Natalie. I’ve got you.”
But I haven’t got me.
I thought getting dumped by a man I wasn’t dating was the worst part, but knowing that he might’ve been the cause of my greatest pain is more than I bear.