13. Baldo
“Okay, Chloe, calm down. I’ll take care of the mayor in Rome.”
Fuck, living in the States is turning into a nightmare.
And not only because my business dealings are on occasions challenging over teleconference.
The biggest part of my current nightmare is living under one roof with Brook, jerking off to fantasies of her every night.
I fucking called her sis, just to put distance between us. It worked somewhat, but we can’t sustain this for a year.
And the hurt in her eyes when I spat the word has been haunting me since then.
“You say that, but how are we going to have a discreet conversation about our liquor license over the phone? You know there is no way we can get it renewed the official way. Not in Rome.”
“I said I’ll take care of it,” I snap.
“Someone is testy this morning.”
“That would be you, darling.”
Right then, Brook enters the kitchen and stops in her tracks.
“I got to go.” I hang up.
I have no reason to feel guilty about calling Chloe darling, especially since it was sarcastic.
And Brook has no right to assume there are no darlings in my life.
Those are facts.
They have nothing to do with the annoyingly unpleasant feeling in my chest. Like I got caught doing something wrong. Or hurting her.
Brook glowers. “Good morning, bro.”
Fuck. My. Life.
“You seem all sunshine this morning,” I quip.
“No thanks to you.”
She pushes around me to pour herself a coffee.
We both move at the same time and end up so close to each other that I can feel the heat radiating from her.
Moving to the side, we choose the same direction and end up pressed against each other again.
The coffee gurgles behind us. The birds chirp outside. The vacuum is running upstairs where the housekeeper is trying to do her job.
Brook licks her lips, and my mind immediately imagines her mouth wrapped around my cock.
Even though she’s glowering.
This dance we’re trying to master is completely off, failing to follow any rhythm. And we’re certainly not going to improve it unless we either fuck to release the sexual tension or find a larger house where we can avoid each other for the entire year.
The former has the potential to explode in our faces. The latter is stupid because even if I don’t run into her, I will still know—my cock will still know—that she is around.
She raises her eyebrow, and I realize I’m still staring at her full lips.
It’s been ten years and I remember their exact flavor. Having her this close makes all the memories rush back… some of them disturbing my composure, some of them just rushing straight to my groin.
The doorbell saves me from doing something I’d regret, because sometime in the last few days my dick has won control over my brain when I’m around her.
She frowns and pushes around me. “Are you expecting someone?”
I follow her, the hydraulic hiss coming from outside reminding me of my expected delivery.
Brook opens the front door, then snaps her head around to me. “What’s that?”
“A tow truck.”
The truck’s winch groans as my favorite car is slowly lowered, its tires making a soft thud when they touch the pavement.
“On the truck.” She huffs with exasperation.
“Maserati GranTurismo.”
“Whose?”
“Mine, obviously.”
“You bought a car?”
“I didn’t buy it. I had it shipped from home.”
Yeah, instead of shipping my clothes and other things I might actually need, I shipped something I want.
At least with my car, I’m in control.
“Whatever for? It’s New York. You don’t need a car.”
“I need something enjoyable in my life. Especially since I’m stuck here for a year, sis.”
Why I’m being such an asshole to her is beyond me. Yes, I need to protect myself from her siren song—one she doesn’t even know she’s singing—but I’m going above and beyond.
Am I proud of the way I’ve been treating her? No. But what’s the alternative here?
I can think of one, but aside from her drunken proposition the night of our wedding, I don’t think she wants to venture down that road.
And I shouldn’t want that either, because there is no way we would survive it unscathed.
“Yeah, I can see how only an overpriced pile of metal would put up with your charming personality, bro.”
She pivots and marches away. I sign off on the car delivery, itching to take the car for a spin, but first things first. Let’s behave like an adult.
I find Brook in the kitchen. “Do you want to go for a ride?”
Do you want to go for a ride?A dick-controlled brain, for sure.
She arches her eyebrow. “It’s hard enough to share this large space with you. I’m not getting into the confines of your beloved car.”
She leans against the counter, hiding her face behind the coffee mug. “But out of curiosity, what caused this peace offering?”
“I find the barking less than productive. Especially if it’s going to last for a year.” I shrug.
She sighs. “A year is a long time.”
“And we’re stuck together.” Come on, Brook, meet me halfway. Or in my bed.
She lets out another sigh, loaded with resignation. Not my preferred way to charm a woman, but this relationship isn’t ordinary, so I’ll take her reluctant surrender.
“I’m busy this morning, but Saar and I are planning to go out tonight if you want to join us.”
Checking out the competition might not be the worst way to spend my night.
“I have a gala to attend… Actually, it would be a great opportunity to snap a few pics as proof for Rupert. Why don’t you and Saar join me, and we can go out after?”
Corm insisted we schmooze at this thing, to rub shoulders with local politicians and motivate speedy permit applications. And since he’s so keen on getting Saar involved, I might just kill two birds.
“That sounds like a date. Send me the details, bro.”
She saunters away and I regret ever calling her sis. What the fuck am I going to do with this woman?
* * *
“It’s so nice to see you, Baldo.” Gina, my oldest brother Massi’s wife, gives me a hug. “The last time I saw you, you were like ten. God, you make me feel old.”
“So Gio was right. You really are in New York.” Massi pats my shoulder.
I didn’t expect to run into my family at this event. I should have. Massi owns a restaurant and he’s a Michelin-starred chef, so of course he is here. To network, like me.
“I heard what you did for Brook. That’s quite a commitment. I can’t believe Roberta Montgomery would do such a thing,” Gina says.
“Though it’s weird to marry your sister, even if it’s just to stick it to the old witch.” Massi makes a face of disgust.
Gina rolls her eyes. “It’s not like they are blood relatives.”
“I’m opening a club here in New York, so I guess I could make myself useful to the family.” And suffer for a year.
“You should come for dinner soon. And we should get together with Gio and Andrea. It would be nice to catch up.” Massi wraps his arm around Gina.
Those two first got married so young, and they got their second chance seventeen years later.
Is there a second chance for me and Brook? According to Massi’s disgusted face, even if we overcome all the barriers we’ve built between us, we still would face an uphill battle with the family.
I’ve just returned and not even had a chance to rekindle my practically non-existent relationship with my parents and my siblings. I guess I couldn’t care less about their opinions.
But Brook always wanted their approval. Having lived away for so long, she’s probably happy to finally fit in.
Our second chance would destroy her second chance with the family.
Why am I even thinking about it?
“We should get together. It’s long overdue,” I respond to Massi.
“It’s really good to see you, bro.”
My eyes keep darting to the entrance of this large, opulent banquet hall. Where is she?
Saar saunters in. She’s dressed to the nines in a deep brown gown that makes most of the people in the room turn their heads. No wonder she is one of the highest paid models in the world.
I couldn’t care less about the dress, because I’m focused on the fact that she’s alone.
“Excuse me.” I nod to my brother.
“No problem. We both need to mingle. Talk to you later, Baldo.”
Gina sends me an air kiss, then I make my way through the floor full of tuxedos, gowns, clinking glasses and hushed conversation.
“Where is Brook?” I snap at Saar instead of a greeting.
“Hello to you too, jerk.” She rolls her eyes.
I groan inwardly. “Pardon my manners, Saar, good evening to you.” Sarcasm laces my voice. “Where is Brook?”
“At home—” Whatever else she was going to say dies on her lips. “What the hell?”
“Saar.” Corm appears by my side. “Nice to see you.”
“I don’t share the sentiment.” She gives him a venomous look that probably turned most of the liquor here sour.
“You look ravishing.” The fucker smirks at her, completely unaffected.
“If I knew you’d be here, I’d have stayed home. Oh wait, I can still leave.” She smiles, this time with an equal amount of poison and honey.
She turns, but I grip her arm. “Leave if you want—”
“No, she should stay,” Corm interrupts.
I shoot him a warning look. I’m not fucking interested in whatever sordid foreplay these two are having in front of me.
“It’s a free country, Cormac, and I’m choosing not to spend time in the same room as you.”
“You owe me a dance,” he drawls.
She laughs.
“Okay, kids, as much as your verbal sparring is riveting, where the fuck is Brook?”
Saar snaps her eyes to me. “She is sick.”
“Let’s talk,” Corm says to Saar, who steps back and looks at him with disgust.
“Sick?” All the hair stands up on my nape.
“Yeah, she got food poisoning or some bug. She tried to call you, but you didn’t answer.”
I turn to Corm. “I got to go.”
“Me too,” Saar adds.
“What the fuck, Baldo? I was going to introduce you to several people. People you must meet if you want to be taken seriously in this city.”
“Next time.” I turn and leave, tuning out his and Saar’s protests.
It takes me an ungodly amount of time to get to Riverdale while I try to call Brook several times and keep getting pushed to voice mail.
God, I hope she’s okay. I rush out of the town car without saying good-bye. The driver has been driving me for a week, so he should be used to my moods by now.
“Brook,” I call as I enter the house.
The light is on in the kitchen, but I head toward the staircase. Taking two steps at a time, I barrel through the long hallway and barge into her room.
“Brook.”
Her bed sheets are crumpled, but she’s not there. A whimper comes from her en-suite bathroom.
“Brook, can I come in?”
She groans, and the sound hits me in the solar plexus.
Fuck it. “Brook, I’m coming in.” I push the door open.
She’s in the fetal position on the floor by the toilet. I squat next to her.
“Baby, let me help you to your bed.”
Damp strands of hair are glued to her face. Even the T-shirt she’s wearing is sticking to her glistening skin. I try to scoop her up.
She pushes me away. “Oh God.” She scrambles to her knees and practically shoves her head into the toilet, gagging and then retching.
Fuck. I gather her hair and hold it while she heaves, stroking her back. She empties her stomach, but her body keeps convulsing with dry heaves.
A wave of helplessness and an overwhelming need to switch places with her constricts my lungs.
“I’m calling a doctor.”
She raises her arm and wiggles her index finger. “It’s food poisoning,” she protests, sitting on her haunches.
Pale, distraught and ill, she smiles at me. It’s a weak smile, but I swear this is the first glimpse of a genuine smile I’ve seen since I returned.
It hits me in my chest with a mix of emotions I don’t want to contemplate.
We stare at each other, and despite the circumstances a sense of calm and peace descends on us. I don’t know what caused it, but it feels like we’ve buried the hatchet.
She leans into me with a sigh. “You came.”