Remy

15. Olivia

OLIVIA

My alarm soundsat six-thirty Monday morning but I’m already awake, staring at the ceiling, worrying about my father and promising myself today will be better than the nightmare weekend.

Sunday consisted of absolutely nothing but an epic battle to keep my distance from Remy.

We spoke very little after breakfast when he’d walked away. I’d remained at the dining table, confused over what had happened.

The entire color wheel of emotions I’ve felt for this man isn’t healthy. The heart-crushing rage. The chaotic fear.

The worst is the lust. That unconscious, loathsome feeling had flooded me Saturday night while I’d been smothered against the hall drywall, listening to him paint a verbal masterpiece of what he’d wanted to do to me at the dive bar.

I should’ve been disgusted. Revulsed.

Yet my pulse had raced with rapture.

Or maybe it was adrenaline.

I’d just escaped another life-threatening situation and my blood was all hot and tingly. Since then, I’ve promised myself I’ll never rile him again.

I don’t want him in my face. His cologne drugging me. Those eyes captivating me.

I’ve accepted my fate for the most part. At least where my father’s illegal alignment is concerned.

I’ll play nice. I have no choice.

I fling back the covers and haul a fresh set of clothes to the bathroom so I can shower and change into a light grey pantsuit. When I open the door to step back into the hall, my hair damp around my cheeks and face devoid of makeup, Remy is standing in wait.

I swallow a shocked inhale at his overbearing presence.

He’s dressed in yet another dark ensemble. Charcoal suit. Matching shirt.

I want to ask if all the food and clothes deliveries that have made their way to my front door have been fulfilled by the same “kid” who was here Sunday morning and not by a long list of criminal psychopaths. But I keep my anxiety at bay for the sake of peace.

“Hi.” I avert my gaze and maneuver around him, a renewed scent of woodsy cologne warming my insides as I pass.

I already presumed he’d used the shower. Water droplets had clung to the tile walls when I’d entered. But I should’ve better prepared myself for the sight of him fresh and cleanshaven, his hair perfectly tousled.

“Morning.” He follows me to my room and stops at the door while I continue inside. “How long until you need to be driven to work?”

A resurgence of dread tightens my throat. “I don’t need to be driven. I assumed we’d go our separate ways today.”

He can’t follow me to the funeral home. There’s no time for the distracted curiosity he’d attract from Ivy and Allison when Alexandra’s funeral is this morning. There’s going to be news crews. Local celebrities. A huge crowd. We’ll already be down one team member if Hugo accepted his position on the unemployment line. Maybe two, if Dad isn’t at his best. Then there’s the added catering staff that need to be managed.

“We are going separate ways.” Remy cocks his shoulder against the doorframe. “For the most part. But I’ve arranged for you to be supervised.”

The dread squeezes tighter.

Is he talking about video surveillance? Did he bug the funeral home?

Surely that would be counterintuitive.

“What does that me?—”

A knock sounds at my front door, the heavy thuds cutting me off.

I raise my brows in expectation. “You and your underworld guests sure like to show up to my house at early hours.”

“I’m not expecting anyone.” He pushes from the doorframe, concern tightening his menacing features. “Are you sure it isn’t for you?”

“I suppose it could be Lesley.” I rake an anxious hand through the tangled strands of my towel-dried hair. “She knows what time I get ready for work.”

His shoulders stiffen, and he turns to stalk down the hall.

“Wait.” I rush after him, catching up at the entry to the open living area. “What are you going to say to her? You need to be careful. She won’t hesitate in calling the cops again.”

“Let me handle it.”

“But—”

“I thought you’d learned to follow instructions.” He stops and swings around to face me.

I bristle.

The loud knock sounds again.

“Do you seriously think that’s the noise a decrepit old lady makes when she raps arthritic knuckles on a door?” He speaks low, his face hard. “Stay where you are, and keep your mouth shut. You hear me?”

My pulse quickens, the thought of a threat rooting me in place as I nod.

He continues his adamant stride across the room. One hand reaches beneath the back of his suit jacket, giving a glimpse of dark metal that makes my stomach drop as he yanks open the door.

There’s a moment of silence.

A temperamental pause as Remy’s back snaps rigid.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he snarls.

My skin prickles at the sinister chuckle that carries from my front porch.

“Is that any way to greet your brother?” comes the smooth reply.

Brother?

Oh goddamn fucking shit.

A chill sweeps through me, the icy freeze settling in the pit of my stomach.

“What a coincidence your weekend bender brought you to a familiar home,” the brother drawls.

I’m not sure which one it is—the guy from the phone call in the car or the so-called butcher.

I don’t know which I’d prefer. But the door opens wider as if pushed from the outside and a man steps in, barging past Remy. Tall. Broad. Dark suit. Darker soul.

I recognize him. He’s the guy from the dive bar. The one who met with my father the night this nightmare began.

Salvatore.

I inch backward, creeping toward the hall. His gaze snaps in my direction, his savage focus skewering me in place.

“There she is.” He grins, the expression far from friendly. “Ms. Pelosi. Finally, we meet.”

All the moisture leaves my mouth, the recollection of Saturday morning’s conversation about Remy’s brother hitting me right in the chest.

“Will he kill me?”

“Only if he finds out about you.”

Remy slams my front door, stealing my attention, his gaze lethal as he mouths, “Don’t panic,” behind his brother’s back. “Go get ready for work, Olivia.” He exudes violence as he strides forward, yet the anger seems different from when it’s directed at me. There’s a temperamental edge to it. A deep-seated volatility. “I’ll come get you in a minute.”

I don’t know what’s more terrifying—his abnormal use of my proper name or how Salvatore stares at me like I’m his next meal, and not of the pleasurable variety.

The fear I’ve battled all weekend transforms, no longer tingling kinetic energy. It’s now bone-chilling. Bile-producing.

I retreat another step, my palms sweating.

“No. Stay.” Salvatore increases his grin, flashing perfectly predatory teeth. “I’d like a proper introduction.”

“Don’t play games.” Remy rounds his brother to stand between us. “Why the fuck are you here?”

“Why the hell are you?” Salvatore’s expression transforms from fraudulent kindness to ominous anger in the blink of dark eyes. “And why the fuck have you been lying to me?”

This is bad. Super-dooper, I’ve-just-started-an-underworld-family-rivalry bad.

I take another retreating step.

“I said stay.” Salvatore jabs an enraged finger in my direction while his hate-filled glare remains on his brother.

They face off as I stand frozen. Unblinking. Barely breathing.

“That’s enough,” Remy snarls.

“Not until I get answers. Why the hell have you been lying to me?”

“Because you’re a hot-headed fucking moron.” Remy leans to the left as if deliberately cutting off my line of sight to his brother. Or vice versa. “There was a complication Friday night. I’m taking care of it.”

“Does she know?” Salvatore sneers.

I hold my breath, every fiber of my being a brittle thread. I should run while I can. Escape out the laundry door.

“Does she fucking know?” he repeats.

“She knows enough.”

Salvatore curses under his breath, the oath burrowing beneath my skin. “Big mistake, baby brother.”

“It was out of my control.”

“But extinguishing the liability wasn’t? You should’ve dealt with this already.”

Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.

Remy stands taller, seeming to grow an inch. “I’ve got it under control.”

“That’s not what I’ve heard.”

“From who?” Remy gets in his brother’s face. Right in his face.

A chuckle huffs from Salvatore. Vindictive. Terrifying.

“Don’t push me.” Remy clenches a fist. “You may be older, but you’ve sat behind a desk for a year while I was out breaking bones and spilling blood. Who do you think would win this fight?”

“You want to fight me, brother?”

“What I want is for you to get the fuck out of here and let me handle my business.”

“My business,” Salvatore corrects. “This is soon to be my organization. My empire.”

“But it isn’t yet.”

Another sickening chuckle taints the air. “You’re right. That’s why this little interlude was sponsored by our uncle. He’s requested your presence at the penthouse.” Salvatore takes a casual retreating step, his eyes meeting mine. “Both of you.”

I stop breathing, each chaotic heartbeat acting like a tightening noose around my neck.

Remy shoots me a glance over his shoulder as if sensing how close I am to running. To passing out.

“Don’t panic,” he mouths again, this time with vehemence.

“He’s requested an introduction.” Salvatore’s grin returns, his gaze playful.

Fear has been my constant companion since early Saturday morning. But with Remy it was different. Wild and rampant. I could think while under the spell of his tyranny.

Not now though.

The fear that consumes me is cold and isolating. The icy tendrils of horror make it impossible to function.

“That isn’t necessary,” Remy grates.

Salvatore smirks at me. “I assure you it is. Right now in fact.”

I shake my head, my throat so dry it throbs.

I’m not meeting anyone. I can’t. I have an important funeral to prepare. Being late isn’t an option. Ivy and Allison would ask a million questions, and my failing brain isn’t capable of giving birth to the insurmountable lies necessary to appease their curiosity.

“I said no.” Remy sidesteps, breaking his brother’s line of vision with mine again. “I’m handling this.”

“And what is this exactly?”

“A minor inconvenience.”

I hold in a squeak.

“Seems like more of a security risk, brother. One that comes in a tempting package.”

“I’m handling it,” Remy snaps.

“Not anymore you’re not. Lorenzo’s orders.”

I keep shaking my head. “I need to get to work. Being late will?—”

“Make her understand.” Salvatore claps his brother on the shoulders. “Articulate the importance of the meeting on your drive to his penthouse.” He turns and starts toward the front door. “I expect you to be no more than five minutes behind me.”

Remy doesn’t voice another protest.

Why? Why doesn’t he scream that we’re not going?

“I look forward to getting to know you better, Olivia.” Salvatore grabs the door handle and yanks it open. “See you both soon.”

He claps the door shut behind him.

Silence rings in my ears.

Remy doesn’t fill the void.

“This is bad, isn’t it?” I whisper over the ache in my throat.

He shoves a hand through his hair.

“They’re going to kill me, aren’t they?” I wrap my arms around my middle, clinging tight.

“No.” Remy swings around to face me, his expression pinched with turmoil.

“You’re lying.” I force myself to stand tall. To be strong.

His eyes harden as he bridges the space between us in thunderous steps. “They’re not going to fucking touch you. You have my word.”

I don’t believe him.

I know what this is. The whole tell-her-what-she-needs-to-hear stitch.

Guilt already swims in his dark irises. Guilt I never would’ve thought capable of existing, but it’s definitely there.

“I need my phone back.” I hold out a hand. “I have to message my dad. If I go missing?—”

“You’re not going missing. I’ll protect you.”

A laugh bubbles past my lips.

He’sgoing to protect me? Him? The guy who’s been a revolving door of threats and intimidation all weekend?

I want to believe him though. God, how I want to sink into the deceptive support and make it my home.

I step back, distancing myself from the idiotic weakness.

“I will protect you.” He straightens his shoulders as if repelling my rejection. “This is a slight complication, that’s all.”

No, it’s not.

Otherwise he wouldn’t need to protect me. He wouldn’t be looking at me with that remorse-riddled pity.

I mistakenly thought I’d waded through the worst of this situation. That somehow, getting to work and being away from Remy would be the beginning of the end to all this.

“Believe me, Ollie.” He stands proud. “You expected me to trust in you after what went down with the cops. So trust me with this. Everything will be okay.”

“How?” I look at him like he’s a lifeline, my nightmare having become my only savior. “It’s clear your brother wants me to disappear.”

“Because you’re a liability. I’ve told you that from the start.” His dark eyes flash with sincerity as he runs a hand through his hair. “We just need to persuade them otherwise.”