10. Chloe
10
CHLOE
“ A m I interrupting something?”
I blinked once and tried to breathe through the panic. The sensation of terror was an old friend. Fear constantly hit me, and I wondered how my heart could take it anymore.
I was safe here. Guards wouldn’t let anyone in. I wouldn’t be harmed, even though this was a Mafia location. But I was not safe from him. Franco presented a live and real threat with him glowering at me like that, so serious and cautious.
If he’d come a moment earlier…
If he'd popped in a second ago…
Swallowing hard, I strained to convince myself that he didn’t know. I had to believe that he was unaware that I had a son.
The moment Romeo and Liam went to breakfast and gave me my phone, I was desperate to use it and call Caleb. He was fine. I was certain he was having the time of his life in Brooklyn with his friend. Ethan was a good, solid man who’d keep his grandson, Brent, and Caleb safe.
After all the danger and fright, after being on the run, and definitely after the way Franco and I reconnected yesterday, I had to hear my son’s voice. I needed the confirmation that he was all right while I worried I never would be.
“No.” I cleared my throat and tried to say it again, stronger. “No. You’re not interrupting.”
He wasn’t in the mood to buy it. If he hadn’t popped in so quickly, so suddenly, I could’ve had a chance to prepare myself. I was stuck between too many emotions to keep a mask on. Heartache at not seeing my son cut through me. I wanted to keep talking to him and hear his little voice. Sadness at knowing I was failing as a mother weighed me down. I wished I could provide a better homelife for him. But most of all, I was seized with anxiety about what Franco would do if he found out about Caleb.
He can’t know. Not like this. Not now. Not ever. He would never, ever forgive me, and knowing that felt like such a cruel letdown from how good it felt to be with him yesterday.
“Who were you talking to?”
“Just checking on something,” I said. Trying to look and act braver and stronger than I felt as I hid my past, I furrowed my brow and attempted an expression of being offended. “I did have a life before you brought me here.”
“Who is he?” he asked, not budging from whatever impressions he’d made. I didn’t know how much he’d overheard before he walked in through the door. Thinking back, I realized that I didn’t say much to my son. Mostly, I listened to him going on and on about a dinosaur program at the museum that Ethan took them to that morning.
I stared back at him, waiting for an answer to come to me. He must have heard enough to hear Caleb’s name. But there was a chance that he hadn’t, and I didn’t want to give away anything. This might be nothing more than him assuming I had to be talking to another man, some stroke of jealousy.
“Do you have a man on the side?”
“On the side?” I snapped. “We had sex yesterday, Franco. It’s not like I’ve been sleeping around with you for a pattern or a…” I growled, frustrated with how quickly he could insinuate that I was up to no good. All I wanted to do was survive, to get by and do the best I could for my son, dammit.
“Do you have a man who’s going to be looking for you?” he repeated.
The first time he asked it, it sounded like a question born of envy, of jealousy, as though he hated the idea of me with anyone else. As if he had any right to that. The second time he asked if I had someone else who’d notice my absence, it came across as more of a security detail. That he’d need to be aware of someone coming after me while I was here under their version of witness protection.
“No.” I shook my head, annoyed but still worried. “No, of course not.” Forcing myself to lift my head and look him in the eye, I added, “I wouldn’t…” I heaved out a sigh. “I wouldn’t have had sex with you if I wasn’t single.”
He closed the door behind him, seeming to need a moment to let my replies sink in. I had no doubt he was cross-checking what I said with whatever prejudices and assumptions he wanted to cling to. When he settled back to face me, watching me with that unbreakable stoicism, I couldn’t read him.
My ability to guess what he was thinking must have gone rusty over the last ten years. I had no clue whether he’d push, or why. Clearly, he’d want to know if I was contacting someone who’d pose a threat to the Constella Family. But was that it? Was that all he wanted to know? If I was a threat or complication he couldn’t allow in his life?
“Are you sure about that?” he asked.
“Am I sure that I’m single?” I huffed out an incredulous laugh. That follow-up question hit too close to the truth. His obvious doubt about my relationship status was eerily spot on.
“You have a burner phone with no contacts. No ID. No credit cards. Your purse held nothing of significance that could be tracked. I’m not out of line to guess that you’re hiding something, Chloe.”
My heart raced again. I felt the tension in my back as my shoulders slumped. It was instinct to curl forward, to want to protect myself from any incoming danger. He stood still, menacing with his hard glare, but he didn’t make a move to advance at me and wound me.
“Tell me the truth.” He furrowed his brow, as though the suspense of this conversation ate away at him. “I can’t help if I don’t know the truth.”
You can’t know it all. There was simply no way I could tell him about Caleb. Not now, not after so long.
“There…” I drew in a deep breath. Do it. Tell him. Just fucking get it off your chest. “There might be someone who doesn’t think I’m single.”
His expression remained hard and guarded, but he exhaled in such a way that suggested he’d been tense and holding his breath. “Go on.” Again, the command in his tone was unmistakable but not mean.
“My ex is a very determined man.”
He looked to the side of the room, narrowing his eyes with anger. I couldn’t tell if he was mad to hear that I had been with someone else or that I had an ex who wouldn’t give up on me. It had been ten years. Franco had moved on, too. He had to have. A man as strong and sexy as him couldn’t be celibate for a decade. And it was weird for him to assume I could’ve been stuck on him, on the past, and not attempt moving on as well.
“Keep talking.”
“My ex is a…” I rubbed my hands up and down my thighs, nervous to even mention Wes. He belonged in a carefully locked up compartment in my mind, in my past. But we weren't. Not with his constant presence as he pursued me.
“He’s a prominent man whom my parents adore.”
He grunted a dark laugh. “Did they set you up with him?”
I shook my head, but I shrugged on the tail end of that gesture. “I don’t think so, but it’s possible. I met him after I’d left town, but they’re in the same circles.”
“When?”
“When what?”
“When did you meet him? When did you leave him?”
He wasn’t cruel or harsh with his demands for answers, but the act of talking about my never-ending nightmare dragged me down into the pit of hopelessness I had to pull myself out of—again. Closing my eyes and lowering my face into my hands, I took a moment to gather my wits and calm down enough to talk. I couldn’t explain a thing if I was crying.
When did I meet him? I wished I'd never met Wes. I rued the day we crossed paths at all.
When did I leave him? He made it sound like that effort was a one-time thing.
Tears stung behind my closed lids. Stuck in the darkness of my memories, I was transported to each and every time I tried to get away from Wes.
“Chloe.” His voice was softer and closer. I barely registered the sounds of his footsteps as he crossed the room. Only when his warm body pressed against my side did I realize that he sat next to me on the edge of the bed. His thigh pushed against mine and his arm wrapped around my back. Feeling his power, his muscled form holding me closer, I fought through the need to bawl.
He was right here, pulling me back to the present, and I wanted to cling to the security he offered.
“Talk to me. Please.”
I sniffled, lifting my face. Resolved to get this out, I nodded and wiped away the few tears that slipped out.
“I met him seven years ago. He came into the diner I was waitressing at while I tried to finish my courses, and he was interested right away.”
“ He was interested while you weren’t?”
Caleb was only a baby then. I didn’t have time to date. “I wasn’t available to date anyone. Not him, not anyone, but he was persistent. We were only together the first time for several months, not even a year, but after I left him and moved, he found me again and tried to get back into my life. Rinse and repeat.”
“When you say seven years ago…” He narrowed his eyes. “Does that mean he’s been doing this all that time?”
I nodded, hating how weak I sounded to admit that I’d been running for that long. “He’s very possessive. And abusive. He only slapped me around a couple of times, but he’s mentally manipulative, a master of emotional abuse.”
The muscles in his arm tightened around me as he pulled me more against him. This much closer, I felt the racing tempo of his heart beating so wildly in his chest. He was enraged at this news, but I wasn’t victorious in that realization. If Franco was mad or riled up, violence would follow. That was who he was, but I didn’t want to recognize that gritty, darker side of him.
“You’ve been on the run for years from this asshole?” he asked.
I nodded. And you. Running from the truth of our past that I’m still scared to share with you. “More or less.”
“When’s the last time you saw him?”
“I…” I exhaled a long breath. “I’ve gotten better at hiding so he can’t follow me, but he still does. He’s got resources I can’t beat.”
“When, Chloe?”
“Six months ago,” I replied. “He found me in Philly, and I moved here to get another new start. But it’s the same dance and song. Every time I relocate, I swear he’s right there behind me, stalking me because I dared to leave him.”
He rested his hand on my thigh, rubbing slightly. “You mentioned him slapping you around.” The words left his mouth with difficulty, as though he gritted his teeth to say such a thing. His anger was a palpable force that hung in the air, but I noticed how carefully he tried to rein it in.
“Yes. He prefers mental abuse. Narcissism on steroids.”
“Has he ever escalated to hurting you in any other way?”
I shook my head but I zoned out, staring at his hand on my thigh. As I stiffened from his question, he stopped rubbing my leg. I missed the soothing caress and tensed when he lifted his hand to put two fingers under my chin. He tipped my head up so I’d look him in the eye.
“Has he ever threatened to hurt you in any other way?”
I swallowed hard, forcing my throat to work past the emotions clogged there. I nodded. “He’s… he’s…”
My lower lip trembled as I struggled to get the words out. Franco dropped his gaze there. His brow furrowed deeper, etching lines of concern on his rugged face. In his green eyes, I saw the pain he suffered through for me. The idea of this man being so empathetic, this trained killer, to soften and feel so much for me… It was enough to start attacking the walls I’d built up around myself.
“He’s threatened to kill me.” And Caleb. That was my biggest fear, that he’d make good on that threat.
“Fuck.” He pushed out a harsh exhale as he slid his hand over to cup my face. “Chloe… Fuck.”
“When you say you can’t determine who shot up the deli, I worry that it could be him.” I cleared my throat, determined to get through this and speak up now that he got me to open up at all. “I worried that it wasn’t an attack on your men or your business, but an attack on me . Just like he’s always promised.”
He firmed his lips into a thin line, but I was on a roll.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you yesterday. I’ve been keeping under the radar and trying to handle him as much as I can without anyone else suffering, but…”
“No. That ends now, Chloe.” He stared into my eyes as though he wanted to will me to believe him. To believe in him and what he said, but I already had a crappy track record with that. I didn’t believe in us all those years ago, and now look where I was.
“I’ll look into him. I will keep you safe. No one can hurt you here.”
My heart swelled with relief. I wasn’t stupid. I knew that his saying that meant something serious. The Mafia didn’t mess around with threats. As much as it bothered me to think of someone being murdered, I appreciated that he could want to step up and see to my security regardless of how I’d broken his heart and left him so long ago.
“Thank you.”
He tilted my head closer to press a chaste kiss on my forehead. “For seven fucking years… He’s been after you all this time?”
I nodded. “I wish I could go back in time and redo what happened in the past.”
“All of it?” He raised his brows, seeming defensive now. “Even me?”
Lifting my hand to rest it on his chest, I got lost in his troubled gaze. He sucked me in. He pulled me closer and drew me to care more and more.
“Meeting you?” I shook my head. “I can’t imagine not having you in my life, the way we were back then.”
His jaw slid. “Do you wish you could go back and redo the time that you left me?”
No. He couldn’t understand why I did.
I shook my head, not as an answer of no, but a show of how this conversation broke me down. “I will never regret you, Franco. Never.”