Chapter 29
Raven
Iscrub at a wine stain on my counter with such violence you’d think it personally insulted my mother. Piper sits on my couch, legs crossed, watching me with a precise, surgical patience that makes me want to throw the sponge at her head.
She hasn’t moved since I started cleaning hours ago, just tracked me with those green eyes as I’ve frantically erased evidence of my breakdown.
All the empty bottles are now lined up for recycling, mascara-stained tissues crammed into the trash, clothes folded and tucked away like nothing ever happened. As if cleaning my apartment will somehow clean up the mess I’ve made of everything else.
“You know,” I say, voice sharp with false brightness as I attack another stain. “Most friends would help clean up. Or at least offer.”
“Real friends wouldn’t,” Piper volleys. “And the best ones don’t enable procrastination.”
I snort, tossing the sponge into the sink with a wet slap. “Big words from the woman who once helped me hide a guy’s clothes on a roof because he said my ass was ‘decent.’”
“That was justice, not avoidance.” Her mouth quirks up at one corner, then settles back into a neutral, therapist-like expression.
“Lee, it’s almost two in the afternoon. I’ve been here since seven this morning.
As your best friend, I’m not helping you procrastinate.
If you don’t start talking soon, I’m leaving. ”
The ultimatum lands like a punch to my solar plexus. I deflate instantly, shoulders slumping as the frantic energy drains from my body. My legs feel too weak to hold me up, and I stumble over to the couch, collapsing next to her.
“I don’t even know where to start,” I confess, staring at my hands. There’s a pink line around my ring finger from where I’ve been twisting a rubber band I found while cleaning.
“The beginning is traditional,” Piper suggests, not unkindly.
I laugh, the sound strangled and wet. “Right. The beginning.”
Taking a deep breath, I feel something shift inside me. Like unpinning a bulletin board and watching weeks of carefully secured memories avalanche to the floor.
“Let’s see… I slept with this guy and stole his lighter. Then I dipped out and intended never to see him again. The end.”
“That’s not a crisis, Lee. That’s most weekends for you, isn’t it?”
“It was engraved.” The confession burns my throat. “And he’s not just any guy. He’s…” I swallow hard. “He showed up at my apartment after midnight eleven days later. Broke in. Told me I owed him a favor.”
Piper stiffens beside me. “He what?” she whispers, her voice shaking. “Did you say a favor?”
Now that I’ve started talking, there’s no stopping it. I ignore her question and let the avalanche of words fall from my mouth.
I tell her about meeting Matteo—except his name—and about the instant, electric attraction, the sex that scorched every nerve ending I possess. About stealing his engraved lighter and thinking nothing of it. About waking to find him in my living room a week and a half later.
“And yeah, he gave me a choice,” I explain as though it makes it all better.
“What was it?”
“Ten favors to be called in whenever over however many years he chose.” I smile sardonically.
“Or?”
“Be his fake girlfriend,” I reply, picking at a loose thread on my sweatpants. “He said he needed someone to help him listen or something.” For some reason, going into specifics or quoting Matteo verbatim feels like a betrayal. So I stick to the highlights.
“Jesus Christ, Lee—”
“I know, I know. It sounds insane. But he said please. So I couldn’t very well say no, could I?” I leave out the part where he took his knife out, bound my wrists, and fucked my breasts. Some things are better left unsaid, even to your best friend.
I keep talking and talking. I tell her about our nights at the Leone Room, about how what started as a performance began to feel real. About how he showed me a side of himself I don’t think many people see.
“He said he loves me…” I trail off, throat tight. “That he’s in love with me. I guess I believed that he actually cared. That the fake relationship was turning into something real.”
Piper’s hand finds mine, squeezing gently.
“Then Saturday happened,” I continue, my voice dropping. “He took me to this restaurant called Emilio’s. It felt like a date. A real one where we shared dessert. I told him about my family, and he told me about his parents dying when he was twelve.”
“That’s pretty intimate,” Piper observes.
“Right?” I throw my hands up in frustration. “So I’m sitting there thinking this is actually something, and then WHAM.” I slap my hands together for dramatic effect.
Piper lets out a startled laugh. “Wham?”
“Mhmm,” I nod.
Then I tell her about the bathroom encounter with Antonia, about the humiliation of realizing I was just there as part of Matteo’s operation. About how he sent me to meet her without warning or explanation.
“And now I feel like an idiot,” I finish, eyes burning with unshed tears. “Because he told me he loves me, Pipes. Multiple times. And I almost believed him.”
Piper’s silence stretches so long I finally look up from my hands to find her staring at me, mouth slightly open, eyes wide with shock.
“What?” I ask.
“And there it is.” Her voice pitches higher with each word. “You’ve been sleeping with Enzo’s cousin. Matteo Russo.”
It’s not a question, so I pretend that answering is optional.
“Is this why you called me and asked about Enzo’s family?” she asks, sounding hurt at the realization.
“Kind of,” I admit, only feeling about half an inch big right now. “In my defense, I didn’t feel good about it. I had to pin it, Pipes.”
She eyes me for so long I think she might actually have finally lost her patience with me. But then, ever so slowly, a smile tugs at the corners of her lips.
“You’re a piece of work,” she sighs. “But I love you, Lee. That’s not going to change.”
We sit in weighted silence, the revelation settling between us like a physical presence. Then Piper sighs, running a hand through her perfectly braided hair.
“I can’t believe you’ve been sleeping with Matteo Russo,” she says, shaking her head. “Of all the men in Cleveland.”
“Pretty sure he found me, not the other way around,” I mutter.
“And now you’re what? In love with him?”
“No!” The denial comes too quickly, too forcefully. “Maybe. I don’t know. Probably not.” I press the heels of my hands against my eyes. “Look, I’m insanely attracted to him. Even knowing he’s using me, I still want him.”
“That’s the problem with the Russo men,” Piper says, a wry smile twisting her lips. “They get under your skin. Make you crazy. Make you want things you shouldn’t.”
“You would know,” I mutter.
She laughs softly. “You could say that. And I understand the appeal.”
“That’s an understatement,” I tease. “I clearly remember Lorenzo breaking into your apartment while you slept, and—”
“Enough,” Piper laughs. “But, Lee, you need to be careful. These aren’t normal relationships. The Russos don’t love like regular people.”
“So what do I do?” I ask, suddenly exhausted. “I owe him a favor, so I can’t just walk away.”
“Do you want me to get you out of it?” she asks, very serious.
I straighten at her question. Do I want that? Hmm, no. As I frown, I realize I don’t want that at all. “No,” I reply honestly. “This is something I have to see through for myself.”
“Okay,” Piper agrees. “Then you’re right. You can’t just walk away. But you can stop letting him control the narrative.” She rises from the couch, walking to my kitchen with purpose. “Where’s your wine? We need wine for this conversation.”
While I tell her where it is, I wonder what she’s up to. This is Pipes, my ride or die. But that doesn’t mean I trust her judgment blindly. She married a Russo after all.
“We’re watching Legally Blonde,” she announces when she returns with a bottle I brought back from France.
“We’re what now?”
“Legally Blonde. It’s the required viewing for any emotional crisis.” She pours generous amounts of wine into both glasses. “And while we watch, we’re going to figure out how you take control of this situation.”
I accept the wine she offers, taking a large swallow. “Pretty sure Elle Woods never had to deal with accidentally falling for a Mobster.”
“Duh,” Piper grins. “But she did know the power of reinvention. And right now, that’s exactly what you need.”
I find the movie on my preferred streaming service and push play. While we watch, I rest my head on Piper’s shoulder and gulp wine like the pro I’m turning into.
“What would Elle Woods do?” The question forms on my lips halfway through our second bottle of wine, the movie credits rolling across my TV screen.
I sit up straighter, something electric sparking in my chest. Piper pauses with her glass halfway to her mouth, eyebrows raised. We’ve been camped on my couch for over three hours, watching Legally Blonde 1 and 2.
“She wouldn’t mope,” I continue, suddenly animated. “She’d reinvent herself.”
“Lee…” Piper starts, but I’m already grabbing my laptop from the coffee table, fingers flying across the keyboard as I pull up shopping sites.
“Not for him,” I clarify, sensing her concern. “For me. I’m tired of being the girl no one takes seriously. I want to be the girl who makes the rules.”
Piper tilts her head, studying me with those perceptive eyes that miss nothing. “Okay,” she agrees. “I’m so here for this. What’s the game plan, coach?”
“Is Lorenzo with you?” I ask suddenly, the question catching us both off guard.
She nods slowly. “He came with me to Cleveland, yes. He’s with his cousins,” she replies carefully. “Why?”
“No reason,” I reply with a shrug. “Just curious.”
Piper scoots closer, peering at my screen. “What are you looking at?”
“Hair dye,” I reply, scrolling through options. “What do you think about this one?” I point to a shade that makes me think of defiance.
Piper’s eyebrows climb higher. “That’s… dramatic.”
“Exactly.” I click add to cart before doubt can creep in. “Dramatic is what I need right now.”