Chapter 11 #2
My fingers hover over Piper’s contact info. She would know more about the Russos. But calling her means explaining why I’m asking, and I’m not ready for that conversation yet.
Not ready to say out loud that I’m going to be playing make-believe girlfriend to a man who kills people and doesn’t seem particularly troubled by it.
I set my phone down without calling. Tomorrow. Maybe I’ll be braver tomorrow.
But… then I pick it back up, my thumb hovering over the call button like it might bite me. My apartment feels too small suddenly, the walls closing in with each circle I pace around my coffee table.
I need information. I need to understand what I’m walking into with Matteo. And the person who knows the Russos best is my best friend—who has no idea I’ve been sleeping with, stealing from, and making deals with her husband’s family.
Perfect. This conversation won’t be awkward at all.
Before I can talk myself out of it again, I hit call and press the phone to my ear. Each ring makes my heart thump harder until I’m certain she’ll hear it through the phone when she answers.
“Lee.” Piper’s voice bursts through the speaker, warm and familiar. “I was just thinking about you. Enzo brought home this ridiculous bottle of wine that tastes exactly like the stuff we toasted with that one New Year’s where you lost your shoes. Remember how sick you got?”
I laugh, the sound almost natural. “How could I forget?”
She hums her agreement. “How was your visit home? Did you scandalize the neighborhood again?”
The question lands like a gift—an easy topic that requires no lying. I sink onto my couch, tucking my feet under me as I launch into stories about my family, my twin’s boyfriend, and my defense of Leo against his high school bully.
“That’s my girl,” Piper says proudly when I finish. “Still protecting your brother from assholes.”
“Always will,” I reply, meaning it. “Some things never change.”
“Unlike my life, which is a constant circus these days. You would not believe the gala Enzo is making me attend next week. The theme is Underwater Elegance, which apparently means I need to look like a sexy fish or something.”
I snort-laugh. “Please tell me you’re wearing scales.”
“Worse. The dress is blue. That’s it. That’s the underwater part. Politicians have no imagination.”
This is so easy, talking to Piper, laughing about nothing important. For a moment, I almost forget why I called. Then she mentions Lorenzo again, and my purpose snaps back into focus.
“Speaking of your husband,” I begin, keeping my voice deliberately light. “How are you getting along with your in-laws these days? I feel like you never talk about them.”
There’s a brief but noticeable pause. “They’re… fine,” Piper says, her tone shifting slightly. “His mom moved to Italy last year, so it’s mainly his cousins I see.”
I twist a strand of hair around my finger, heart racing. “That must be nice, not having mother-in-law drama.”
“Trust me, I’ve got plenty of other drama to make up for it,” she laughs, but something in her voice sounds careful. Measured. “The Russos are very… close-knit. Family means everything to them.”
“That sounds great,” I offer, trying to sound merely curious rather than desperately fishing for information.
“It is, in its way.” She pauses again. “They protect their own.”
The words send a shiver down my spine. “Protect,” I repeat, the word tasting strange on my tongue.
“Mhmm. Lorenzo’s cousins are especially tight. Remus runs most of the family business. Rafe handles… other aspects. And Matteo is…”
My breath catches at the last name. “Matteo?”
“Yeah, one of Enzo’s cousins. Have you met him? He sometimes comes to events, so it wouldn’t surprise me if he’d been to one of yours.”
I grip the phone tighter. “No, I don’t think so. What’s he like?” I deserve a gold star for how casual the question sounds, like I’m just making conversation rather than interrogating her about the man who’ll become my fake boyfriend.
Piper laughs. “Matteo’s like… actually, he reminds me of you.”
“Sounds like a compliment if you ask me,” I quip.
“Ha, ha,” she deadpans. “No, he’s alright. I mean, he’s the kind of person who sets fire and swears it was an accident because what he really meant to do was light the explosives. Wait, don’t tell Enzo I said that. The cousins are weirdly protective of each other.”
I scoff. “And when would I tell Lorenzo? During our weekly BFF chats?”
Piper laughs harder, probably realizing how stupid the idea of me telling her husband anything is. He blames me for Piper getting drugged and almost raped over two years ago. I blame him for global warming. It’s a winning system.
“Anyway,” I murmur, my free hand moves unconsciously to my wrist, remembering the feel of Matteo’s belt wrapped tight around it. “He sounds… interesting.”
“That’s one word for it,” Piper says dryly. “He’s got this whole scarred bad-boy thing going on that makes women throw themselves at him. And ever since the explosion last year… well, it doesn’t matter.”
The vagueness makes me want to scream, but since that doesn’t seem like a good idea, I settle for a noncommittal “Hmm.”
“Why the sudden interest in my husband’s family?” Piper asks, her tone shifting to something more suspicious. “You’ve never asked about them before.”
Shit. I force a casual laugh. “Just making small talk. You know how boring my love life is these days. Living vicariously through your fancy Mafia-adjacent lifestyle.”
“Lee,” Piper’s voice drops lower, more serious. “They’re not…” She stops herself. “It’s not like in the movies, okay? They do have legitimate businesses.”
“Of course,” I backpedal quickly. “I didn’t mean anything by it. Just teasing.”
There’s a beat of silence before Piper sighs. “Sorry, I’m being paranoid. Enzo gets touchy about family stuff.”
“No problem. So tell me more about this underwater dress situation,” I redirect, desperate to move away from dangerous territory.
She launches into details about the gala, and I make appropriate noises of horror and amusement while my mind races. None of what she’s said tells me what I really need to know. Like how dangerous this situation I’m in truly is.
“It’s been too long since we’ve hung out,” Piper says as our conversation winds down. “Maybe I can come to Cleveland soon. Just for the day or something.”
We say our goodbyes with promises to work something out. As soon as I end the call, I drop my phone onto the couch and press my palms against my eyes until I see stars.
“Well, that was useless,” I mutter to the empty room.
I learned nothing concrete about Matteo or what I’m walking into. Just that he’s intense, plays with fire literally and figuratively, and comes from a family that protects its own. Which sounds like a polite way of saying they make problems disappear.
Problems like women who steal precious lighters, perhaps.
My phone buzzes beside me, and I jump as if I’ve been shocked. The screen lights up with a text.
Psycho Bastard: I’ll see you at Holston’s in two days, Little Thief.
My fingers hover over the screen. Should I respond? Acknowledge the message? Ask for details?
In the end, I set the phone down without replying. What is there to say? I’ll be there. I don’t have a choice—or rather, I made my choice when I agreed to this favor instead of the ten separate ones.
Despite my exhaustion, I can’t freaking sleep. Rather than counting sheep or something equally mundane, I prepare for mine and Holston’s lunch meeting with Adam and Finn Kearney from North Coast Effects.
The event pyrotechnics company sounds intriguing. And even though it isn’t my usual kind of client, I’m excited to meet with them.
What I’m not excited about is being near Holston. I can’t help feeling like he sold me out to Matteo and I don’t appreciate that one fucking bit.