Chapter 14
14
I drop my dance bag on the floor with a thud and collapse on the couch in exhaustion. It’s been more than a week since I last saw Damien, but he’s stayed in touch through texts and calls.
He calls every night before I go to sleep.
And every morning, like clockwork, he texts.
In this short time, he’s become a staple in my life.
He’s also a different man than the one who dragged me out of the casino. While he’s doing a decent job of hiding his pain, I notice it beneath the surface and hear the sorrow in his voice.
Losing his family broke him, but with his upbringing, he won’t allow himself to expose it. Mafia men aren’t allowed to be broken.
They’re only allowed to do the breaking.
I’m also pissed the fuck off at everyone in the Lombardi family for not forcing Damien to take time off to mourn his family. Instead, he’s been busy nonstop. Coldhearted Mafia bastards.
I stand and head toward the kitchen for a glass of water. A knock on the door interrupts me. Making a detour, I peek through the peephole .
Oh, hell to the no .
“How the hell does he know where I live?” I grumble.
Cernach has never visited my apartment.
He’s here for a reason.
I have a strong suspicion it has something to do with my new Mafia friend.
Sorry, Uncle Demon, not today.
Or tomorrow, or the next, or the next.
I tiptoe away from my door, trying my hardest to stay quiet, but my creaky floorboards become traitors. God, how I wish he’d remove me from the family tree and toss me aside like a rotten apple.
“I know you’re in there, Pippa.” He pounds his fist against the door. “Open the door, or I’ll break it down.”
Knowing my uncle, that’s not an empty threat.
He’d kick it down and get me evicted.
“Asshole,” I mutter as I yank open the door.
There he stands.
Certified asshole uncle of the century, wearing a posh navy-blue suit, alligator shoes, and his Celtic knot pin. My mom told me a story once about him mercilessly plunging the pin into a man’s eyeball until it became a pulpy mess.
“I’ll overlook your disrespect of ignoring my knock.” His heavy-boned body barges past me and inside my apartment.
A man wearing a fedora follows him. I narrow my eyes as I spot the dirt trail from his shoes.
I slam my door shut. “Is there something I can help you with, Uncle?”
“Lose the attitude, you little bitch,” he snarls, advancing closer to jab his pudgy finger in my face. “Remember who you’re speaking to.”
I slam my mouth shut. While I can’t lose my attitude, I’ll misplace it for now. All I want is for him to say what he wants and leave .
He steps back and checks out my place like a real estate agent ready to make an offer. “You’re going to marry Damien.”
I burst out in laughter.
While I was prepared for something like this, I didn’t expect it to sound so cliché. The mob boss ordering a marriage.
Give me a break .
He tried to pull the same crap with my mother, but it didn’t work. He should know disobedience runs in my blood. I’ll lose that blood before I ever give in to him.
“I’m not laughing,” he snaps.
“Are you insane? We barely know each other.”
I want the whole nine yards before I marry someone.
The pursuit. The special dates. The flirting. The drops to one knee and proposes. No way am I settling for less.
“Yes, and what’s your point?” Cernach touches a photo of my mother and me at my first dance recital. “He seems to be infatuated with you, though I’m not sure why.”
Okay, rude.
Another reason I hate him. For some reason, he thinks of me as trash floating around New York streets.
“You’re basing that assumption on just a one-minute-long conversation with us?”
“I read people like a book, Pippa.”
“What’s in it for you if I marry him?”
“The Lombardis have good connections and would make a solid ally.”
“No, thank you.” I grimace. “Find another pawn to use for connections.” My stomach twists. “What did you tell my mother years ago? We’re dead to you and the entire Koglin family? Please continue that frame of thinking. I’d appreciate it.”
As he puts the frame back, his blond-red brows furrow. “It won’t be long before your mother needs my help.”
“We’ll be fine without you,” I sneer. “We have been for years. ”
Fedora Man shakes his head like a disappointed father.
“I’d barely call this,” Cernach says, slowly taking in my living space, “living.” He puckers his lips as if I live in filth. “You’ll be coming to me for help soon enough. And when you do, it’ll be with the understanding that you marry Damien.”
Cernach walks toward the door. Just before he reaches it, he swings out his arm and sends a row of photos crashing to the ground. They all shatter.
Stepping over the glass, he motions his head toward it. “That won’t be the only mess I’ll create if you play with me, girl.” He menacingly smirks.
As soon as they leave, I rush to the door, frantically bolting the lock behind them. I rest against it while catching my breath. After counting to ten, I retreat to my living room to clean up the glass mess.
Ten minutes later, there’s another knock on my door.
God, what does he want now?
A fucking kidney?
Probably wants to bludgeon it with his stupid pin.
I swing the door open. “I said no, Cernach—” I retreat a step at the realization it’s not Cernach, thank God.
Two women stand in front of me. One with messy brown curls and the other with bright maroon hair. Darcy and Genesis. I recognize them from the funeral.
“Hi, Pippa.” Darcy adjusts her Chanel bag on her shoulder.
My gaze bounces between them as I search for answers. “Hi.”
Genesis’s smile puts me at ease. “Damien sent us to help get you ready for your date.”
“I’m sorry …” I blink at them. “Date?”
Darcy nods.
Since I don’t know what to do and definitely don’t want Cernach overhearing us, I wave them inside. As soon as Genesis shuts the door behind her, I speed-walk to the couch for my phone to call Damien.
“Darcy and Genesis are here to help me with a date I have no clue about,” I say as soon as he picks up.
“They’re taking you out for the day. Spoil yourself, and I’ll pick you up at eight.” He hangs up.
I drop my phone on the couch. “I guess I’m going on a date tonight.”
Genesis squeals.
Darcy grins.
Two years.
That’s how long it’s been since I’ve gone on a date.
I still have date PTSD from that one.
A girl from my barre class set me up with her brother. He was an hour late, took me to a steak house despite knowing I was a vegetarian, and conveniently “forgot” his wallet. I ended up paying for both my side salad and his one-hundred-dollar porterhouse. After that, I blocked his number.
I decided I’d find a man the traditional way.
No, not by arranged marriages or offering up a dowry.
Through fate .
Eventually, I’m destined to come across a hot guy in a coffee shop or on a train.
Or have a wild incident where a handsome man threatens me in a casino.
Not that dating has been a priority for me. My life revolves around dance and my family. Your family’s survival becomes a priority when your father squanders every penny gambling.
That’s the reason I moved out.
Not a piggy bank is safe in the Elsher household .
Genesis and Darcy practically pull me out of my apartment. I don’t put up much of a fight, though. They just lost their best friend. They could ask to move in with me, and I’d say yes.
We pile into Darcy’s white BMW. I take the back seat, my mind buzzing with questions, but stay quiet during the drive.
“Here we are,” Genesis says, parking in front of Serenebelle, an upscale spa nestled between New York skyscrapers.
Not that I’ve ever stepped foot inside.
The local news recently showcased it as the city’s premier spa destination. Celebrities come here. I also stumbled upon a blog post titled, “Places in New York None of Us Peasants Can Afford.” Serenebelle was listed as number three.
I follow them into the spa, and a gentle breeze carries the scent of essential oils through the air. The desk clerk beams, circles the counter, and greets Genesis and Darcy by name.
“This is our friend Pippa,” Darcy introduces.
“Susie!” calls out the clerk, whose name tag reads Vera.
A frazzled blonde—Susie, I assume—scrambles toward us, carrying a tray of champagne glasses. Only minus the champagne. There isn’t a trace of fizziness in them.
“Care for a spagarita?” Susie asks, already handing me one.
I smile, taking it from her. Taking a sip, I taste a lavender-infused water and refreshing tang of lemon.
It’s also giving no liquor .
“We’ll do facials first, then massages, then hair and nails,” Vera says, motioning us forward.
The spa is a peaceful oasis, a vacation within the chaos of the city. Soothing music plays in the background, combined with the gentle sound of a waterfall flowing along the path to the changing rooms. Vera leads me into a room where a robe that smells like the spagarita hangs on a hook.
If you don’t count the five-dollar face masks I buy, this is my first true facial and spa experience.
I undress, slip on the robe, and check my phone .
No calls or texts from Damien.
Frowning, I gather my hair into a lopsided ponytail and join Genesis and Darcy in the facial room. They’re sitting next to each other in massage chairs. I smile at each of them before taking the chair beside Darcy. As I settle and turn on my massage settings, the estheticians enter the room, starting our facials.
“Thank you for attending the funeral with Damien.” Darcy slips her gaze to me. “He probably won’t admit it, but it relaxed him. I could tell.”
“Agreed.” Genesis nods and sips her spagarita.
My face softens at the compliment. “You and Melissa were best friends?” I ask, referring to Damien’s sister.
“Since we were babies.” Genesis gestures toward Darcy. “Our parents called us the Trouble Trio.”
“Her death has been hard,” Darcy adds. “When Damien called and asked us to bring you here, it kind of brightened our day. It’s nice, getting out of the house.”
“Serenebelle was Mel’s favorite,” Genesis says. “We always came here for her birthday. Damien’s treat.” Her face mask gets smudged when she wipes a tear off her cheek.
The esthetician leans in and fixes it for her.
Darcy grabs Genesis’s hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. “She’ll always be here with us.”
Genesis sniffles and nods.
Darcy gives Genesis’s hand another squeeze before flitting her gaze to me. “Melissa would’ve liked you. You’re good for Damien.”
I shift in my chair. “Has he done this for any other woman?”
“No,” Genesis replies with total certainty. “And we’d know since he would’ve asked Mel to do it.”
I smile to myself at her response.
Only me .
By the end of our spa day, I’m swinging my arms through the air as we walk toward Darcy’s car. Tia, my massage therapist, had hands of a god. Turns out, my shoulders were as tense as a rod, and my neck was a mess of knots. My dance coaches always suggested massages, but I never had the extra money.
No one has ever spoiled me like this.
We listen to Darcy’s Hot Girl Playlist on the ride home, the three of us singing loudly to the songs. When we’re back at my building, Darcy pops the trunk and pulls out three garment bags.
“What are those?” I ask.
“Oh, just a surprise for you,” Darcy sings out, handing me one of the bags.
I take it, and Genesis holds the door open for us.
“That massage made my legs feel like rubber,” Genesis groans as we walk up the stairs. “They’re turning into Jell-O more with each step.”
We enter my apartment, and I hang the bags over the couch.
“For you, from Damien.” Darcy pulls a black jewelry box from her purse and holds it out toward me.
My face brightens, my body feeling all bubbly as I take it from her. They crowd around me while I carefully open it.
A handwritten note lies on top.
My sweet dancer, wear this on our date.
Tonight, I’ll spoil you like you deserve.
Maybe we can end the night with you dancing for me.
—Damien
I run my finger over his name.
His handwriting is smooth and simple.
Easy to read with no swirls or dashes.
“Can we read it?” Genesis peeks over my shoulder but still gives me space in case I say no.
“Let’s let the girl keep her romantic note to herself,” Darcy tells her .
I smile, a small laugh slipping from my lips.
I like them. Maybe I’ll ask for their numbers and see if we can hang out again sometime.
I remove the note, and we gasp in awe, nearly in sync, at the gold necklace underneath it.
I’ve never seen such a unique piece of jewelry.
It’s stunning and definitely one of a kind.
The rope features a pattern of rubies and diamonds. Two charms hang in the center—a ballet slipper and a deck of cards, each embellished with more diamonds.
“Holy shit,” Darcy says. “That is gorgeous.”
I stare at the necklace, nearly bug-eyed, too nervous to take it out.
Terrified I’ll drop it.
“Want me to help you put it on?” Genesis offers.
My eyes meet her brown ones as I carefully take out the necklace and pass it to her.
With the same caution as I had, she grips it tight. “Let’s go to the mirror so you can see yourself.”
They follow me to the full-length mirror in my bedroom. Genesis stands behind me. Since she’s nearly four inches taller than me, she easily sees my reflection.
Darcy stands by my side as Genesis clasps the necklace around my neck. My heart is on fire as I rest my hand on the necklace. I press it into my skin as if wanting to fuse it there. We take a moment of silence to appreciate the beauty of the necklace.
“It’s gorgeous, Pippa,” Genesis says, brushing her fingers along my shoulder.
“You are gorgeous,” Darcy adds. “Have a great time tonight, babe. You’ll find dress options in the garment bags on the couch.”
I nod, dancing my fingers over the charms.
The dancer .
The deck of cards for his life at the casino.
My heart flutters.
Ten minutes later, I hug them goodbye. “Thank you so much for today.”
I’m on top of the world, still wearing the necklace, and unzip the garment bags to find three stunning dresses.
The price tags are missing, but the labels reveal each one is more expensive than anything I’d ever be able to afford.
“Two hours,” I mutter to myself, checking the time. “Two hours until he’s here.”