Chapter 22
22
One Month Later
Satan, aka Antonio Lombardi, must’ve taken a break from hell today because he—okay, most likely Amara—invited me to her birthday party.
Antonio’s parents are hosting the party in their massive estate’s backyard. The colonial brick home could easily house ten families, and that’s not counting the pool house built near the infinity pool.
The yard is like an oasis with brightly colored flowers, fountains that dump into the pool, and comfy furniture.
Now, I’m no accountant by any means, but unless the Lombardis have a shit ton of casinos—which, from my research, they don’t—no way can a single location bring in an income to support a home like this. There’s no way any of the homes I’ve been to, including Damien’s, is supported by one casino.
I drop my gift bag on the table next to the others, and Damien does the same with his card. I had him take me to three different stores to find the perfect gift for Amara. Thoughtful gift-giving is important to me. I try to pay attention to people, to soak in the tidbits about themselves, so I can gift them something meaningful.
From those three stores, I found a stuffed snake that resembles Ace and a dance bag, where I put pointe shoes, a ballet beginner’s book, and a dance outfit inside.
On the drive here, I asked Damien what his gift was.
He said, “Two thousand dollars,” like that’s normal for a five-year-old.
My life has changed drastically in the last month. I stay at Damien’s every night now. I learned Ace sleeps in a tank in one of the five guest rooms. His sleeping setup is better than most people’s.
I’ve also gotten to know some of the men Damien works with. On the days that I work, either Damien or one of them drives me.
Damien and I have found comfort with each other.
I’ve introduced him to my favorite shows and meals.
He’s shared memories of his family. For hours at a time, I sit cross-legged on the couch or cuddled in bed next to him, listening to them. Hearing those stories and spending time with him have become some of my favorite things to do. I love seeing Damien’s face as he recites them, reliving them in his head.
I learned his mother won the city’s best chili four years in a row. That his father once participated in a hot dog eating contest and puked everywhere. Damien shuddered and said he’d never eat a hot dog again in his life. I also learned his sister was only months away from being named valedictorian of her college class.
This man, closed off to the world, is slowly opening himself up to me.
All day, every day, Damien displays the dark side of him. No one, other than Amara and me, are allowed to see any warmth through the cracks. All I want is to provide him a sense of comfort, like he has for me .
Clara swears I have.
Amara claims he smiles more when around me.
My dad is still MIA, and my mom is slowly starting to love herself again. She opens her blinds now and answers my calls. I even convinced her to attend an open studio night with me.
Her biggest problem, now that she’s accepted my father is gone, is that she has nothing coming in without the studio income. I’ve helped as much as I can, but it’s not easy with my Brew Bliss paychecks. She suggested I ask Damien for help, but I refused. He’s done enough for me already.
As we walk closer to the party, Damien leans in to whisper in my ear. “Antonio’s mother, Marsha, insisted on having the party. If Antonio is cranky today, that’s why.”
“A cranky Antonio?” I gasp, faking shock as my sandals flop against the warm concrete. “No way.”
He chuckles, shaking his head.
When we reach the backyard, I take in the party decor. It’s like a unicorn mom vomited all her unicorn babies here. They’re everywhere .
In the pool, on the cutlery, the gift wrap, the bounce house.
I recognize most of the people from the funeral. Damien said it’s close family only—another reason I was shocked I was invited. I frown, noticing there are only two other children. One of them looks a few years older than Amara, and another one is a toddler.
Poor Amara.
As I’ve spent more time with her, I’ve learned she doesn’t have many friends. Clara homeschools her, and she doesn’t do any outside extracurriculars. I understand Antonio is protective, but he also needs to let her have a life.
Not that I’ll suggest that to him.
I’m not about to get drowned in that unicorn-infested pool.
“Happy birthday!” I squeal when we reach Amara and Clara.
Amara jumps up and down, barefoot, in her unicorn swimsuit. “Uncle Damien!” She reaches out for his hand. “Let me show you my bounce house!”
Damien smirks at me before allowing her to drag him toward the bounce house.
No way in hell is he getting in that thing.
I will literally dash over there and record it if he does.
Clara follows them.
Since it’s nine thousand degrees out here, a bounce house is a no-go for me.
“You’re on my shit list.”
My attention leaves them, and I whip around at the harsh voice to find Antonio approaching me, a drink in his hand and a glare on his rough face.
We’ve crossed paths a few times now, and this is the first time I haven’t seen him wearing a suit. Considering the weather, I don’t blame him for swapping it out for black pants and a short-sleeved shirt.
I flinch, crossing my arms. “Excuse me?”
He stops directly in front of me. “Amara won’t stop asking me to take dance classes.”
“Sorry.” I rub my forehead. “She saw my pointe shoes and asked me to show her.”
“You couldn’t say no?” He quirks a brow and takes a sip of his drink. “Maybe shown her something simpler, like how to learn a new language or puzzle?”
“Dancing would be good for Amara.” I offer a small, please don’t kill me smile. “She’d love it.”
“I see.” He tips his glass in my direction. “Congrats. You’re hired as her new teacher.”
I fan myself with a napkin I stole from a table on the walk into the yard. “I don’t teach anymore.”
“You do now.”
I open my mouth, prepared to dispute his job offer.
No, thank you on working for a made man .
They desire too much of their people. Too many of them also go missing.
“I pay well,” he continues, as if reading my mind. “And knowing Damien, he’ll probably make me pay you double since he’s obsessed with you.”
Butterflies swarm in my belly at his comment.
“You start tomorrow.” He turns and walks away without waiting for me to accept the job.
Wait until I tell him my pay is five hundred an hour.
He might let me get out of the job then.
As much as I’d love to teach Amara—hell, I’d teach her for free—I don’t want any employment tied to a Mafia-run family. It’s too risky.
I slide my attention away from him to the inflatable bounce house across the yard. Damien stands outside it, the guard of the castle, and I make out Clara and Amara jumping inside.
I head in their direction, ready to kick both out in fear of a heatstroke. Just as I reach them, Amara rolls out of the house and Clara exits behind her.
She fans her face and catches her breath. “No more bounce houses unless they start installing ACs in them.”
“Let’s get you some water,” I say, waving them toward the drink table.
We trek across the yard, and Amara tells me all the colors of her cake until we reach the table. I’m handing out waters when Antonio joins us.
Only this time, he’s not alone.
Detective Kinney is standing next to him.