11. Vinnie
“You seem off, sister,” Luciano tells me as we take a corner table at the small cafe down the street from my office. It’s rare our lunch breaks align, but I moved an appointment to take Luce up on his invitation.
I busy myself by placing a napkin in my lap. When I look back up at my brother, he’s watching me closely.
Shrugging, I say, “Pre-wedding jitters.”
He smirks and shakes his head. “Why don’t you stop lying through your teeth and tell me what’s going on with you? Your wedding is tomorrow. You look like one of my clients, not a woman who’s getting married in less than twenty-four hours.”
Luciano is one of the most prominent divorce attorneys in Manhattan and recently gave all the wives on the Upper East and West Side something to talk about when he decided to do the exact opposite of his partner, Simon Gamble, and align himself with only female clients whose husbands were ready to run them through the financial wringer.
My brother has a knack for sniffing out lies like a bloodhound.
“Do you want the truth?” I ask, then bite my tongue as the waitress comes over with our quiche and cappuccinos on a tray. I smile at her as she sets them down. “Thank you.”
“Of course. Enjoy,” she tells us both with minimal eye contact before she walks away.
“Obviously,” my brother quips in a bored tone. He still hasn’t stopped scrutinizing me and I shift uncomfortably under his gaze.
“The wedding is a farce,” I tell him, tilting my chin upward to push my strength forward. All I want to do is cry. “I’m not marrying August because I love him. I don’t even like the man. Hate him, in fact. I’m marrying August because I have to.”
Luciano rolls his eyes and shakes his head again. “Baby sister, do you think I’m dense? Anyone with eyes can see that you despise August. The question is, why are you marrying him? What does he have on you?”
Anger suddenly overtakes me, my temper rising so quickly I have to force myself to keep my voice low. “Why do you think he has something on me?”
“Surely you aren’t agreeing to this just to make Mother and Father happy.”
“I—” My stomach roils, and I look down at my hands situated in my lap. How do I tell him that the life of the man I love is on the line? “It’s not as cut and dry as you’re making it out to be.”
“Everything can be simplified, Vinnie. So I’m going to ask you again. Why are you marrying a man you have no feelings for?”
Sly’s face flashes through my mind as I decide how much I want to tell my brother. He’s never been one to conform to the feud between our two families—he’s always been more of the black sheep—but he grew up in the same toxicity I did and with that, the seed was planted from a young age.
Still, I long to confide in someone other than Cecilia, and my brother has always been there for me. Growing up, he was my protector, and though we’ve drifted apart over the years, I feel like confiding in him may just bridge the gap between us.
Picking up my cappuccino, I take a sip and gather my thoughts.
“Last fall I fell in love,” I start, taking a deep, shuddering breath as I look up at my brother. “We were together in secret until August’s proposal shifted us off our axis. He asked me to run away with him, or to come clean about our relationship, and the afternoon I was supposed to meet him with my decision, August showed up at my apartment with a file of photographs. He’d been having us tailed for weeks.”
I purposely omit that August had slapped me and knocked me unconscious. That’s a detail I plan on keeping to myself.
“By the time he left, I was too late. Sl—the man I love thought I didn’t want to be with him, that I was choosing August. And he left town.”
My brother narrows his eyes and takes a slow bite of his quiche, listening to my every word. I can see the wheels in his head turning. “Yet there’s a reason why you haven’t tracked him down to tell him otherwise. What hold does August have over you, V?”
Tears line my eyes, and I grow so exasperated it all begins to bubble to the surface. I am not this woman. August shouldn’t have this power over me, but fear for Sly’s life holds me so tightly, I can’t break free. Logically, I know in my heart if I told Sly, this could all be over, yet there’s that small part—the two percent of me—that screams, ‘but what if August kills him first?’
And that’s the part that keeps me rooted in my decision.
Telling my brother won’t change anything, still I hear myself whisper, “August is threatening to kill him if I don’t comply with his demand to marry him.”
I hear my brother chuckle and I glare at him from beneath my lashes. “Oh, sweet, na?ve sister. You’re a Paladino. Do you truly think that the St. Jeans hold more weight than the Paladinos in this city? Your little lover boy’s life isn’t truly at risk, August has just manipulated you into believing it is. Who is he, anyway?”
“You don’t know August like I unfortunately have come to, Luciano. Trust me on this one. I wouldn’t be putting myself through hell if I wasn’t one-hundred percent positive his life would be in danger if I were to back out.”
“What reason would August have to threaten this man’s life? You still haven’t told me who he is.”
“And I won’t,” I tell him, shaking my head. “It’s not important anymore. What is important is that his life is safe—protected—because tomorrow as of five p.m., August will get what he wants.”
My brother’s lips purse and he leans back in his chair, relaxing into it as he looks at me skeptically.
Wanting a distraction from the conversation, I let my eyes wander out the window, and I watch the cars as they pass by. The air constricts in my lungs when I see an all black Ducati amongst them. I stare at the driver, scrutinizing his build, his posture, his everything, wondering if it’s Sly.
I only breathe again once he passes.
“Tell me, Vinnie. I can help you if you tell me who he is.” My brother breaks through the fog in my mind. Slowly, I turn back to look at him.
“I can’t,” my voice cracks. I won’t.
Luciano doesn’t press me further, and slowly our conversation drifts into mundane chit-chat. We don’t speak of tonight’s rehearsal dinner, or the pre-wedding Paladino brunch, but I can tell there’s more he’d like to say.
By the time we stand to part ways, my heart feels heavy, and I dread going back to the office for two more hours.
I’m looking down at my phone as I breeze through the lobby of my office building, when I hear a voice call to me, the melodic echo bouncing through the space. “Miss Paladino!”
Stopping, I turn toward the reception desk and smile at the woman standing behind it, her arm in midair. She’s new, and I can’t recall her name, but her smile is vibrant as she tucks a lock of her platinum blonde hair behind her ear.
“Sorry to interrupt you!” she says as I walk toward her. “You had a gentleman stop by while you were gone. I told him you had left for the day. I apologize—I hadn’t realized you’d be back.”
My heart plummets into my stomach, my entire body freezing in place. Salvia lodges in my throat as I try to swallow through the clash of panic and excitement that runs through me, my thoughts immediately jolting back to Sly.
“That’s okay. Did he leave his name?”
She doesn’t need to say it. Not really. My instinct is already screaming his name, wondering if he’s still around, or went elsewhere to find me.
“I’m sorry, he didn’t. Once I said you’d left, he didn’t stick around. For what it’s worth, he was strikingly handsome. Looked familiar, but I couldn’t quite place where I”d seen him before. Well-groomed beard. Accent.”
Probably the newspapers. His face has been plastered across since news broke of his injuries.
Headlines reading, “Son of Renowned Manhattan Surgeon shot in California Drive-by.”
I can feel my body begin to tremble. “How long ago was that?”
“About thirty minutes or so, maybe forty.” My head bobs as she speaks.
“Thank you so much,” I reply with shaky breath, and before she can answer, I’m walking away. My heels click against the tile flooring as I rush toward the revolving door, desperate for fresh air.
I should have known he would show up here—that he’d try to see me—but my delusional self had hoped he’d simply give up.
As soon as I’m back outside, the warmth of the summer day envelops me, and in conjunction with my heart rate, a thin layer of sweat immediately prickles at my hairline.
Cars speed past where I stand on the sidewalk, my arm outstretched in the air to hail a cab. The sound of zipping tires against asphalt and motors revving does nothing to calm the pulsation of nerves zooming through my bloodstream. After a moment, a yellow taxi pulls alongside the curb and I waste no time pulling open the door and climbing inside. Grabbing my phone from my clutch in lieu of buckling my seatbelt, I dial Cecilia’s number as I tell the driver, “Greenwich and Vestry.”
Loyal to a fault, she answers on the second ring. “Hey.”
“Hey. Are you home?”
“Yeah,” she says through a yawn. “I just woke up from a catnap.”
“Lia, I think he’s on his way to the apartment right now.”
There’s a rustling against the speaker, and I picture her sitting up on the couch. “He, who?”
“Sly,” I tell her, then gasp when the cab driver slams on the brakes and lays on the horn.
“Watch it, ya idiot!”
My fingertips curl along the edge of the cracked leather seat.
“Where are you?” Cecilia questions.
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I close my eyes. “I hopped in a cab. Listen, if he shows up…”
“I’m not even home,” she singsongs into the phone, and I sigh with relief.
“Thank you,” I breathe.
“Look…I understand why you’re going through with this, and why you’re avoiding him, Vins, I really do. But don’t you think there could be some other solution? Maybe if you just talk to him, you guys could figure out a plan.”
“Trust me, I’ve been over every possible option in my mind. I don’t trust August as far as I can throw him, and I just can’t take that risk. Especially now. Sly almost died, and it had nothing to do with August.”
“Exactly. Repeat that sentence again, Vinnie. Sly almost died, and it had nothing to do with August. It’s like he’s been given a second chance. Don’t you think you should take advantage of that?”
I’m quiet, and she lets the silence stretch, not pressuring me to answer. For several minutes, neither of us speak and it’s like her presence is with me in the car instead of just on the other end of the line. It’s calming, and I appreciate that she’s just being in the moment with me as I think about her words and the feeling in my chest.
All too soon, the driver pulls in front of August’s building—a historical site that’s been transformed into luxury condominiums at which he owns the almost nine-thousand square foot penthouse.
Reaching into my clutch, I grab my wallet, fish out a few bills, and hand them to the driver.
“Thank you,” I tell him as I climb out.
“Does August know he’s back?” she asks at the same time as the doorman greets me, “Ms. Paladino.”
I smile and dip my head in a nod as I pass through the door that’s held open for me.
“I can only assume.” I address Cecilia’s question. “I suspect if he does know, I’m about to find out.”
The elevator pings and I step inside, holding my electronic keycard against the card reader for the penthouse floor. The doors are painfully slow as they close.
“Do you want me to meet you there before the rehearsal? Ride with you guys and act like a buffer? I could ask Ross to bring me.”
“No, it’s okay.” I watch the numbers ascend above the elevator doors.
“I wish you’d let me help you…” her voice trails off, the sadness behind her words like a shot in the heart.
“I know,” I tell her, smiling sadly to myself. “I have to go, I’m almost there. I’ll see you tonight though, okay?”
“Please be safe,” she stresses.
“Always.”
As safe as I can be around a grenade that’s liable to explode at any moment.
Hanging up, I slip my phone into my clutch right before the elevator doors open up. When they do, a nauseating symphony of erotic sounds echo from all around. Skin slapping against skin, obnoxious, high-pitched moans. Guttural groans.
Stepping into the foyer, I’m immediately greeted with August’s bare ass, and the sight of him pounding into a woman bent over the arm of the couch, whose face I can’t see.
“Welcome home, wife,” he groans as he readjusts his hand so he’s pushing the woman down further into the cushions.
“I’m not your wife yet,” I practically growl. “New friend?” I drop my purse onto the table and kick out of my shoes, haphazardly leaving them right in the middle of the floor.
The second I step foot into this gilded cage, I shake myself free of everything I’ve been taught through my upbringing. Manners, filter, and kindness be damned. August is insistent about this union and shackling himself, so I will be pulling against the chains and making life as difficult as possible for him.
His thrusts increase and I roll my eyes. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before. He’s done this practically weekly since forcing me to move in here.
“You know I like my women willing, Vinnie. Are you ready to take her place yet?”
“Not a chance in hell,” I spit, giving him my back as I walk to the guest bedroom—my bedroom.
“Then I’ll keep fucking whomever I please!” he shouts, and I hear the woman cry out from what sounds like pain, not pleasure.
“You do that,” I call over my shoulder as I round the corner.
I barely make it into the room I refer to as my own when I hear him over the moans of the woman—she’s coming, or she’s a fabulous actress. “Be ready to leave in two hours, wife.”
I cut off the rest of his sentence and use my bare foot to slam the door closed, twisting the lock for good merit.
One-hundred and twenty minutes until I have to become an actress myself.