6. Chapter 6 - Cole
I t’s been forty-eight hours since I last saw Emiliano, and I know he’s actively avoiding me. He went as far as staying the night somewhere else, and he better be careful who he spends his nights with—they might end up dead in the Hudson River. I’m almost ashamed to admit that I waited for him on the couch all night. I did it under the guise of spending time with Matteo, and we watched rom-coms until we both fell asleep. Like the good old days. I’m not ashamed to admit those are my favorite. I missed doing the simple things when I was in prison, and I’m going to make up for it however I can.
Speaking of Matteo, I’m no closer to telling him we’re done than I was yesterday. Somehow, I feel guilty, and it’s not a good time. Ten out of ten would not recommend fucking your best friend then falling in love with their dad. It’s a recipe for disaster, and I know the time is coming when I’ll have to come clean. It’s inevitable. But I don’t want to drop that bomb on him unless Emiliano and I actually get together. There’s no reason to break Matteo’s heart further if Em and I aren’t going anywhere. Which will most likely be the case here. I know he wants me, but he’s not going to let himself have me. He’ll feel too guilty. He needs to take what he wants more often, but I know he’s not going to do it at the expense of his son’s happiness. Fuck him for being such a good dad.
Maybe I should move out. It would probably be best for me. I bet Emiliano would have a damn field day and celebrate until the end of time. Finally, his tormentor is out of his hair. But it’s not that simple. I don’t want to leave him alone, which means that I won’t. No matter how much he begs the universe for me to give up, I won’t. Not unless he marries someone else or kills me. And if it’s the former, I’ll just kill her too. Then he’ll wish I was really dead—and he’ll probably make it happen too.
Worth it.
“They’re here,” Matteo says, pointing toward the men at the docks. We’re sticking to the shadows, just as always, in case there’s unwanted company. Unfortunately for us, this is neutral territory. “Let’s go.”
I nod, stubbing out my cigarette, and he makes a face. He doesn’t like it when I smoke. Says it’ll kill me someday. The way I see it, I probably won’t make it to thirty. Not with the way I work for Emiliano. I’m bound to get killed or end up back in prison sooner than I’d like. And I know if I go back to that place, I’ll go fucking insane.
Matteo snaps his fingers in front of my face, effectively breaking me out of my thoughts, and I narrow my eyes at him. “Do that again, and I’ll break all your fingers.”
“Talk dirty to me.” He winks, then goes ahead of me.
I was supposed to do this job alone. After all, Emiliano demanded I do it. But Matteo wanted to spend time with me and wouldn’t take no for an answer when I told him I’d be busy with this. He said we could spend some time together afterwards, and it sounded like the perfect time to break the news to him, so I said yes.
My arm shoots out, halting him in place, and I narrow my eyes at the sight in front of us. There, about two hundred feet in front of us, stands Maxim, the Bratva’s Pakhan. You’d think he’d send someone here to do the dirty work, but no, here he stands in all of his glory. Vulnerable and ready to be killed.
“Don’t,” Matty says through gritted teeth. “Don’t fuck this up.”
“Matty—” I sigh. “He’s right fucking there.”
“Don’t start a war,” Matteo growls. “You already got even with Andrey.”
“Look at me,” I snap, and he does. His brown eyes gaze into mine, and I grab his face roughly. “He almost killed you. We’ll never be even.”
“You’re so fucking dramatic, babe,” he mumbles, and I roll my eyes. “Always defending my honor.”
“Keep your eyes peeled,” I tell him, ignoring his sweet nickname. I don’t have time to let him down easily right now. “They’re fishy as hell.”
“Is that…?” Matteo squints, and I follow his gaze. Sure enough, it’s our client making deals with the Bratva. “What the fuck?”
“Goddamned double-dippers,” I whisper.
We stay back though, especially since our men are in the parking lot, and observe them from a distance. It seems they’re trading drugs, probably opioids, by the look of it. They load all the product into a van, then take off.
Matteo and I quickly make our way to our client, who looks like he’s seen a ghost. I don’t know why he’s so damn surprised; we’re right on time. As always. We’re known for our punctuality, Matteo and I. We’d never mess up a deal. Except for maybe now. I’m tempted to pull out my gun and take care of our little problem.
Matteo seems to know exactly where my head is and whispers, “Don’t do it, Cole. My dad will have our fucking heads. We’ll do this the right way and ignore it for tonight. I’m sure he’ll find a way to punish this motherfucker.”
Fucking fine.
“Hey there, Armando,” I say with a cheerful lilt to my voice. His eyes widen, and I pretend as if I didn’t see anything. “Here for our merchandise.”
“O-of course,” he replies, looking like he’s three seconds from pissing his pants. He looks terrified, as he should be. No one fucks with the Cosa Nostra. No one fucks with Emiliano either. “They’re right here.”
I text Luca, Emiliano’s right-hand man and the person who raised me, and they bring the van around. Matteo and I watch as our guys load everything up and Armando backs up, his hands raised in defeat.
“I’m not going to kill you.” I smile. “ Yet .”
Armando swallows hard, looking absolutely terrified.
“You realize we have to tell my father about this, right?” Matteo asks Armando, but it’s rhetorical.
Armando doesn’t speak; instead, there’s a wet spot on the front of his jeans.
“Matteo, he just fucking pissed himself.” I throw my head back and laugh. “Oh, shit. This is too good.”
“Nasty.” Matteo grimaces. “You scared?”
Armando is still quiet.
“Cat got your tongue?” I ask him, my eyes narrowed on the wet spot. It’s now going down his legs. “Never mind. Don’t speak.”
“Here’s what’s going to happen—” Matteo starts, and I interrupt.
“We’re going to walk away. And you’re not going to sleep tonight—or any night until we come back for you. And we will.” I smile sweetly at the man. “Do you understand?” I ask him in Spanish.
He nods, and I feel Matteo’s gaze on my face.
Armando runs away, going to the parking lot, and disappears quickly. I smirk, then look at my best friend, who’s still staring at me.
“Since when do you speak Spanish?” he asks, his mouth ajar.
“I speak French too.” I wink. “And Italian.”
“What the fuck, Cole?”
“ What ?” I laugh. “I had a lot of free time.”
“Prison treated you well?” he asks, and I nod.
“Yeah, you could say that.” I shrug. “I learned a lot.”
“Well, don’t let the Don find out,” he says. “He might take all the jobs away from me.”
I chuckle. “You can tag along any time. You know that.”
We get in Matteo’s car, the sweetest 1967 convertible Mustang. It’s his baby. Classic cars have always been his thing. I slide my hand over the passenger side door, and he grunts. I know he doesn’t like smudges on the black paint, so I just smirk. I can’t deny the thing is a beauty though. A shiny black body with black rims. Red leather seats. And he also switched out the stereo so he could have Bluetooth. It’s a dream car for sure.
“Don’t bust a nut on my seats,” Matteo mutters as we get in, and I laugh.
“Chill the fuck out,” I say to him, and he narrows his eyes at me. “I would never do that to Cherry.” Yeah, he named his car. Weirdo .
“For some reason, I don’t believe you.” But he grins at me. “Wanna go to Giovanni’s?”
Giovanni’s is another legitimate business the Colombo’s run. Specifically, Giovanni Colombo’s restaurant. It’s five-star dining on crack. Only the best of the best can get reservations.
“What?” I ask in confusion. “They’re closed.”
“They’re never closed for me,” he says with a smile. “Plus, I made reservations for us.”
My stomach drops.
“Uh,” I stutter. Is this a date? “I don’t?—”
“Come on, Cole.” His jaw pulses. “Can’t a man have a meal with his best friend?”
I instantly relax. I know he can read me better than an open book. So, I just nod and smile. “Fine.”
“Just fine?” he asks, but he’s smiling as he pulls out of the parking lot.
“Yes, Matty. I’ll eat with you.”
“When you say it like that—” He looks at me with a glint in his eyes. “It sounds dirty.”
I sigh. “Everything I say sounds dirty.”
“Touché.”
We pull up to Giovanni’s about forty minutes later. It’s dead, but the lights are still on. Matteo parks the car, and we get out. He lets himself in, and I trail closely behind him. As soon as we make it to the hostess, she grins and directs us to our table.
“We’ve been waiting for you,” she says to Matteo, a little too friendly, in my opinion. But he just looks her up and down and smiles. “Right this way.”
This is good, right? Maybe if he has eyes for someone else, he won’t be so heartbroken when I tell him how I feel.
“Sorry, Chiara.” He grins. “We got held up.”
“Oh, it’s never a problem, Mr. Colombo.”
“Matteo.” His grin stays firmly in place, and I look between them.
We walk through the restaurant until we make it to our table. Low lighting greets us, setting a romantic mood, and there are lit candles on the table. White tablecloths adorn the square tables as far as the eye can see, and it looks slightly different from the last time I came. It looks fancier. Even their uniforms are more formal. The Colombo brothers have clearly been busy building their empire. They’ve renovated everything.
I pull out my chair and sit down, and Matteo takes the seat across from mine. He looks at me expectantly, and I clear my throat.
“This is nice,” I tell him, and his answering smile almost takes my breath away. I wish I could’ve fallen in love with him. We’d be perfect together. “Thanks for bringing me.”
He waves a hand. “You like?”
“Yeah,” I reply, looking around. “Shit’s fancier than I remember.”
“Mostly everything is.” He smiles. “They’ve been busy.”
“I can tell.”
“What’s up, Cole?” He frowns, looking right into my eyes. I flinch. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Fuck .
He can always read me.
“Nothing—”
“Tell me.” He sighs. “I don’t want things to be weird between us. I promise we can get through anything—you should know that by now.”
But, can we?
“I think—” I take in a deep breath. “I think we should stay friends. Only friends.”
Matteo’s emotions flit right in front of me. Surprise, disappointment, and lastly, a sadness I can’t ignore. He’s not hiding it. “Why?” He clears his throat. “Did you meet someone new?”
“No.” I shake my head. “Nothing like that.”
I’m just in love with your dad.
Fuck me.
He nods slowly. “Alright.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, tears burning the back of my eyes when I see one trail down his face. He wipes it away roughly and quickly, as if it never happened. I know I hurt him, and it’s breaking my heart. I rub at the sore spot in the middle of my chest as if it’ll make it better. “I do love you.”
“Just not like I love you.” It’s not a question, and I don’t insult him by denying it.
I nod. “I’m sorry.”
“Stop saying that, Cole.” He sighs. “We’ll be fine.”
Fuck, I hope so.
I have to believe it though.
I don’t know what I’d do without him.