Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
MARCO
I 've never felt such tenderness towards a criminal; especially one who stole from me.
As I guided Audry to the car, all I could think was that I wanted to take care of her. She was obviously in a state of shock, and quite frankly so was I. Sophia, who knew?
The whole tragedy of Sophia’s condition slapped me in the face once again. To find your daughter who you thought was dead, and then not remember it. It was a fate worse than death, in my opinion. I helped Audry into the car and ordered my driver to take us to my Hollywood apartment.
Clearly, she needed some time to decompress, and I needed some time to make a plan.
If I had been reluctant to hand over Audry to the mercies of the Cosa Nostra’s judgement before, I was even more reluctant to hand over Amy's sister now.
Might as well kill her all over again.
If I was being very honest with myself, I was very glad to have a rock-solid excuse to protect Audry. I had looked into James Martin when she told me that she was his daughter, and I knew for a fact that he would not lift a finger in her defense if she had been in trouble.
I thought about her words, the ones she had said as we traveled to go meet Sophie, about what a mother meant to her. Those words were even more heartbreaking to remember now. Audry needed somebody who was on her team one hundred percent, and I realized that I could be that somebody. We could be that somebody for each other.
Somewhere in the universe, I could hear Valerio laughing his ass off.
My driver dropped us off at my apartment and then drove back to the compound. I led Audry to the elevator, pressing the biometric key that would allow the elevator to rise to the penthouse. All this time she had not said so much as a word. Her face was pale, and her eyes looked sunken in her face, just staring out at nothing.
Shock.
I mentally reviewed the contents of my pantry, remembering the chamomile tea that my cleaning lady brought me once. She had been about to open a new business and I was her Guinea pig. I also always had whiskey on hand, and a warm blanket shouldn't be a problem. I figured that would have to do for first aid.
The elevator dinged, opening into my foyer. Putting her hand on her back, I gently propelled her into my apartment, helping her to take her shoes off before taking her hand and leading her to the living room. I seated her on the plush sofa with a view of Hollywood to keep her entertained while I went to the kitchen to make her some tea.
Due to the open plan of the kitchen, I was able to keep an eye on her. She didn't move so much as an inch the entire time. I mixed her a cup of chamomile tea with a generous splash of whiskey, and then placed it in her hands. Grabbing the shawl from behind the sofa, I put it over her shoulders, before coming to sit down next to her.
She drank the tea wordlessly as I watched, and then put the cup down on the coffee table.
“Feeling better?” I asked.
She shook her head slowly.
I sighed. “Can I get you anything?”
She shook her head again.
So we sat quietly, she staring at nothing, with her hands folded in her lap, while I watched her anxiously.
“Do you wanna watch some TV?”
Again, she shook her head. I hated feeling helpless, but there was literally nothing else I could do for her.
After some time, she turned slowly to look at me. “Why are you helping me, Marco?” She asked.
It was the last question I was expecting or wanted to answer.
I gave a half-hearted smirk, “You're a damsel in distress. I'm your Prince Charming.”
“Funny,” she said with just a hint of her former spirit.
I expelled a slightly annoyed breath. “What did you expect me to do? Abandon you on the sidewalk?”
“I stole your money.”
“Yeah, you did.”
“I betrayed your trust.”
I blinked in surprise at those words. “You assume I trusted you?”
“You trusted me enough to let me into your system.”
“You had me backed in a corner. I had very little choice.”
“You could have just killed me and have it done with.”
“Like I said before, how would that have helped me to get my money back?”
“But I stole more!” She exclaimed as if I did not understand that.
“Yes, you did.”
“So why are you helping me?” She shouted.
I shrugged. “Like I said, damsel in-”
“Distress.” We both said together.
“Yeah, you said,” she continued sounding extremely frustrated. “It's Amy, isn't it? It's because I look like her. Because I’m her sister?”
I rolled my eyes, even if she was kind of right. “I took you to Sofia before I knew who you were.”
“You knew about the resemblance.”
“So what?”
“You called me Amy in bed. Do you think I'm your replacement Amy?”
I sighed, shaking my head, “Audry, I assure you - please listen to my words - you and Amy are nothing alike.”
Weirdly, she looked hurt by that statement. “Yeah, I know I'm not anything like St. Amy. I don't rescue dogs and kittens, or sing in the rain, or cook you breakfast. I know that. It's a good thing you know that as well, because you can't make me into her.”
I shook my head at her obtuseness. “That's not what I meant. I wasn't trying to say that Amy is better than you. And trust me, she was no saint. All I meant to say was that I see you. I see beneath all the masks that you put up, your cockiness, your bravado, it's all up front. I see the fear beneath, the fear that who you are is never going to be good enough. I'm not gonna tell you that you're good enough Audry, because you won't believe me. But I hope that you give me a chance to show you that you are. That your intelligence, your sense of humor, your recklessness, your astuteness, the way that you see people, that it's enough.”
She blinked at me clearly nonplussed. I felt a little smug to have shut her up so effectively. Her mouth twisted and she gave me a look. “You think you have me gobsmacked, don't you?”
“You see. This is what I mean about you being astute.”
She derisively shook her head and looked away. I could see the blush on her cheeks though. She was pleased and embarrassed by my words.
“So now what? You want your nuclear launch codes back?”
“That would be nice. But the horse has already left that barn. There's no way we can trust that you don't have copies.”
“So, what do you wanna do?”
“What do you want to do?” I volleyed the ball gently back into her court.
She just looked at me, letting the bleakness show in her eyes. “I have no idea, Marco.”
Slowly I leaned in, giving her every chance to pull away. She kept looking me in the eye with curiosity and something that might have been fear. I closed the distance between us and pressed my mouth to hers. Her lips were soft and warm beneath mine, the aftertaste of whiskey hitting my tongue as I ran it along her bottom lip before licking my way into her mouth. The kiss was tentative, a tender questing thing, asking a question and hoping for the right answer. Tongues tangling around each other, dancing a two step tango, trying to find each other's rhythm.
It was a very different kiss from any we’d shared before. It said very clearly, ‘I know who you are. I want to get to know you better.’
We pulled away from each other, our gazes meeting and holding. The silence was loud.
I reached my hand out to her. “I'm offering you my hand, in partnership. Will you take it?”
She looked from my hand to my eyes and back to my hand. Slowly her hand rose, and she slid it into mine. “I do,” she said.