Chapter 9 ROSE
ROSE
Gripping the handle of my crew case, I make my way to passport control. “I told you before. I’m done letting Magnus control my life. He won’t stop me from seeing my mother.”
“Just give me some time. Meanwhile, Mamma’s instructed D’Angelo to take care of you while you’re in the UK.” Elio sighs through the handset.
I stop in my tracks. “Are you fucking kidding me?” My stomach twists into a tight knot.
D’Angelo’s voice filters through the handset, deep and maddening. “Damn it, woman. Just lie low for a while.”
I tap my manicured nails against the top of my case as I join the line at passport control. “Fine, but I don’t need a babysitter.”
Dan sniggers.
I picture his smug face on the other end of the call. “How are you and my brother even in the same room without attempting to kill each other?”
“He tried.” Dan huffs down the handset. “Where are you?”
I roll my eyes. “Living it up in Bora Bora. Where do you think I am?”
“You’re still at the airport?” He exhales as if I just saved his life. “Stay there. I’ll meet you in the business class departure lounge.”
“I have four hours before I’m back at work. You want me to sit in the departure lounge for four hours?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be there to keep you company.” Now the bastard is smiling.
I can tell by the way he speaks. “Put my brother back on, please.”
“Yeah?” Elio says.
“What the hell is going on?”
“Don’t blame me. This was all Mamma’s idea.”
“Put her on.”
“I’m not feeling too good. Take me back to my room, Elio.” Mamma coughs down the phone. “Ti amo, mia bella rosa.”
“Love you, Mamma.” The line goes dead. I shove the phone into my bag and exhale hard through my nose.
Four hours. I make my way to the departure lounge. May as well get a decent breakfast if I’m going to be stuck babysat by a Bianchi.
A shadow covers my plate. I look up, mid-bite, a mouthful of tomato bursting on my tongue, juice trailing down my chin.
“Hello, Grace.” Dan slides into the seat opposite, grinning like he’s just won a bet. Bastard.
I wipe my chin with a napkin, rolling the food around my tongue before swallowing. “Fancy seeing you here.”
The waitress smiles with her notepad and pen in hand. “Can I get you anything, sir?”
“I’ll have what she’s having. Full English brunch is it?” His grin widens. “And a black coffee, please.”
“Yes, sir.” She nods at me and walks towards the bar.
Dan steals a slice of bacon from my plate. “I’m famished.” He brings it to his mouth and bites into it, chewing slowly as if savouring the saltiness.
I hate that I’m watching him and screw my face in disgust, but it’s myself I’m annoyed with the most. I hate that I still find this man attractive.
He’s exactly as I remember—perfect skin, perfect hair, perfect teeth with the kind of smile that once made me feel like I was the only girl in the world.
Meanwhile, I’m spending a third of my wage on every beauty product available in the duty-free.
He swallows the bacon, still grinning. A few lines around his eyes are the only telltale signs that he’s aged at all. “Your mother and brother send their love.”
“This was all your idea, wasn’t it?” I glare at him as I tear the sausage from my fork, then point the metal prongs at his shit-eating grin. “There’s a reason I moved to the UK.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“So I don’t have to take orders from my family or anyone else. And I certainly won’t be taking orders from you.”
He raises an eyebrow. “We’ll see about that, little bird.”
My brows pinch. “What is it with you and nicknames?”
He holds his hands up with a laugh, his nose scrunching in a way that makes me want to bust it. “Hey, you chose the name. I’d have gone with something more fierce myself. Maybe something sexy.”
“What like Pussy Galore?”
He leans back in his chair, exhaling a soft laugh, the kind that used to make my stomach flip. Now it just makes me nauseous. “Nah, spina velenosa suits you better.”
“Is that how you think of me, as a poisonous thorn?” I lift my glass of water and take a sip, swallowing the acid at the back of my throat.
He scratches his short beard, his gaze flicking to my lips. “Maybe, depends if you plan on sticking me again.”
I tilt my head, matching his smirk. “Careful Dan, I’m not a silly girl you can manipulate anymore. My thorns protect what’s mine and I’ll stick anyone who threatens my family.”
A server approaches the table. “Black coffee, sir. Your brunch will be out shortly.”
“Thank you.” He winks at the girl, making her cheeks blush.
She reminds me of me when I was eighteen, a chubby girl fawning over the first man to show her any attention. Pathetic.
He brings the mug to his lips and blows on the hot drink. “You mean you’ll do anything to protect your son?”
I swallow the thick air. It’s the first time he’s mentioned my son. “How do you know about him?”
He takes a sip from the mug, licks his top lip, then sets the mug back on the table. “I know everything there is to know about you, little bird.”
The knot in my stomach tightens. It’s as if he keeps calling me that to provoke me. He doesn’t know everything. Some things I’ll take to my grave.
I set my fork down and push my plate to the side. “Then you’ll know that I’ll do anything to protect him. And that includes keeping him away from people like you.”
His smile fades, a flicker of hurt passing over his features before he schools it back to arrogance. “I’m here to keep you safe.” He clears his throat. “You and your son.”
“You needn’t bother. I can take care of myself. I’ve managed this far.”
His fist clenches around the napkin on the table. “Things are different now.”
“Why? Because my husband is out of prison?”
He snarls at the word husband. “Ex.” His jaw clenches. The mention of Magnus seems to affect him as much as it does me.
“Not in the eyes of the law.” My chair scrapes along the wooden floor as I rise. “He’s not the only psychopath I’ve dealt with.” I turn to walk away, but Dan reaches for my arm, his fingers curling around my wrist.
Heat licks up my spine, frustration and something dangerously close to anticipation mixing in my blood. He’s too close, too calm, way too smug, sitting there as if he owns me. As if I’m the same na?ve girl I was years ago who he could manipulate and bend to his will.
What were my mother and brother thinking? He was on my family’s most wanted hit list after what he did.
His eyes darken, his smirk turning deadly. “You need me, fiore mio.”
I lean down, my voice dropping just for him, and I whisper in his ear. “I stopped needing you a long time ago. And I’m not your flower. I’m a poisonous thorn, remember?”
His smile falters for a moment, like a crack in his confidence. Good. I want him to feel my words slice through his chest. I want him to hurt as much as he hurt me.
His touch sears into my skin, setting my blood to boiling point. His penetrating steely gaze locks onto mine. “We’ll see about that.”
I exhale sharply, snatching the handle of my crew case and yanking my wrist from his grip. “I have a shift to get to. Help yourself to the rest of my brunch. I’ve lost my appetite.”
He shouts after me, “Your shift doesn’t start for another two hours.”
“I’d sooner sit in the staff room than spend another minute with you.
” Adrenaline is the only thing keeping me upright as my legs weaken, but I feign confidence and strut out of the departure lounge.
The ghost of his hand still burns my wrist, my entire body on fire as I walk away, not daring to look back.
Once out of his sight, I’m able to breathe a little easier.
After all these years, this man still has an effect on me.
I can’t let myself fall under his spell again.
My shell’s hardened, but underneath I still melt for him.
A tear pools in the corner of my eye and I dab it away, annoyed with myself for letting him get to me.
It’s as if the last thirteen years never happened and all my emotions as a young, betrayed, abandoned eighteen-year-old are as raw as they were then.
I hate him.
I hate him.
I hate him.
Keep telling yourself that, Rose, and maybe one day it will stick.