Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
Lissia
I added more designer dresses into the shopping cart on the laptop Ricardo let me borrow and tapped my fingers against the sofa cushion in a display of nervous energy.
My world had been trampled in a matter of seconds. Not even Versace could make me feel better.
One moment, I was twirling through the halls of the dealership, floating on air because Marchello admitted he loved me. The next, my father stomped on my heart, asking me to choose between him and the man I wanted to spend forever with.
Neither of them were innocent. They had both done horrible things through the years. Their dark, troubled paths had finally crossed, and I was stuck in the middle.
It was as if the universe had it out for me. I’d found the man of my dreams, but how long could we sustain this brutal life before someone was destroyed in the process?
My hand traveled between the laptop and the phone in a frantic motion. Every time I wanted the phone to win out, I stopped myself. I couldn’t do anything stupid and prove Marchello right.
“Don’t.” Ricardo placed his hand over mine, stopping me from reaching for my phone.
“What?” I went back to clicking on clothes I didn’t need.
“You don’t want to call your father right now.”
“I kind of do.”
I wanted answers. My father needed to look me in the eye and tell me not only did he try to kill Nico’s sons but he ordered a hit with me becoming a potential casualty. Not to mention the other innocent people on the terrace.
How did we get here? Maybe we had always been here and I just didn’t want to see it.
“Have you ever tried to understand the Accettis?” I asked. “I mean, you lost your dad because of what they do for a living.”
“My father knew who they were and what they did when he started working for Nico.” He went to the bar and poured me another mimosa, topping it off with a splash of Marchello’s expensive Russian vodka. “So did I.”
“But does it ever bother you?”
“If it bothered me, I wouldn’t be here.” He handed me the flute. “And if I wasn’t here, I wouldn’t be with you.”
“If you weren’t here, you wouldn’t have to put up with Marchello.”
“I put up with Marchello because you need me.” He winked. “It’s worth it.”
“Do you know why Nico can’t come home?” I asked.
“Are you asking because you want to tell me what you know, or do you want to know what I know?”
“I don’t know much, but it has to be important if he left his sons here to deal with his business.
“A prominent member of the South American cartel Nico works with has gone missing,” he said. “His name is Miguel Sanchez. He’s the nephew of a key leader. He came to New York to oversee a shipment, and he didn’t resurface.”
“Do you think he’s still alive?”
“Probably not.” Ricardo sat down. “Nico used all of his resources here to try to figure out what happened to Miguel, but when he came up empty, the cartel blamed him.”
“It wasn’t his fault.”
“No, but in good faith, Nico promised to find the nephew. When the search turned up nothing here, the cartel insisted that he step up his game and that Nico was to handle it personally. Otherwise, he could have sent Marchello or Milo.”
If Marchello had gone in Nico’s place, we wouldn’t be together now. My father wouldn’t have tried to kill him. I shook off the dread that formed in my stomach and tried to focus on how I could make this right.
“Nico has to honor his word. He has to find out who has Miguel or who killed him, and he has to make an example of them. He left his sons in charge here so he could focus on getting the job done,” Ricardo said.
“But no one anticipated me.”
“Does anyone ever anticipate you?” He patted my knee. “Don’t get involved in this. Nico is more than capable of handling the situation. He’ll get home.”
“Hmm…” I bit my lip.
“Lissia,” Ricardo said, his voice stern. “Don’t give Marchello a reason to do something drastic.”
“Like leave me?” I took a deep breath and abandoned any wild ideas forming in my brain. For now.
“Put the pink dress in your cart,” he said.
“Oh my God! The one that ties over one shoulder? It’s adorable.”
“You’ll look fantastic in it.”
“I know.” I sipped my drink. “Retail therapy, alcohol, and you being with me are making me forget about my horrible morning.”
“I’m sorry your father showed up and ruined your high.”
“He did, didn’t he?” I set my flute on the end table. “How do I look Marchello in the eye knowing my father tried to kill him?”
“Marchello wouldn’t blame you for that.”
“What if he can’t help it? What if Nico sees me as the enemy too?” I set the laptop on the coffee table. “Milo said we were like Romeo and Juliet. What if that’s really true?”
“Okay, first, you need to take a gulp of that mimosa.” He took the glass from the end table and handed it to me, then pressed his finger to his chin. “Trust me, you and Marchello are hardly a tragedy. So no Shakespeare references. Although, he does brood a lot like Romeo in Act One.”
“I’m having a real meltdown here.” I chugged my mimosa. “My father tried to kill him. There’s going to be retaliation for that.”
“Maybe not.”
“I’m not stupid, Ricardo. I know how this works, regardless of what the men in my life think they know about me. Marchello and Milo will escalate this. And where is Danny?”
“I don’t know, but when Marchello finds him, it will be game over.”
“See what I mean?” I tossed the empty glass on the sofa. “Our families hate one another. How are we supposed to overcome that?”
“Why don’t you let them figure it out?”
“Because they’re all too arrogant and power-driven to see they’re destroying each other.” I placed my face in my hands. “And me.”
“Things have a way of working themselves out.” He rubbed my back. “You’ll see. I’ll pray for a positive outcome. My mother can start a prayer chain.”
“No.” I looked at him. “Do not involve your mother.”
“I’ll just tell her my friend needs extra prayers for an unspoken request.” He patted my shoulder. “She lives for that kind of stuff.”
“I guess it can’t hurt.”
“Should I make you something to eat?”
“I’m not hungry.” I searched for my glass in the cushions. “But you can make me another drink.”
“I don’t know if I should.”
I shoved the flute into his hands. “One more.”
“Only if you put the pink dress in your cart.”
“Deal.” I set the laptop back on my lap. “I’ll need new shoes for it too.”
“Of course you will.” He went to the bar by the window and poured some champagne into the glass, but when he reached for the orange juice, I waved him off.
“Why don’t you skip that part?”
“Because it would be a glass of champagne and not a mimosa.”
“It’s a mimosa without the orange juice.” I laughed. “It will be delicious.”
“What am I going to do with you?” He filled the glass with more champagne. “One mimosa without the orange juice coming right up.”
The clicking of the lock on the front door startled me. My heart rate picked up when the door opened and heavy footsteps hit the hardwood floor. I glanced at Ricardo, and he gave me a reassuring smile.
His encouragement did nothing for me.
“Hurry up and get me that drink,” I said. The room spun and my legs wobbled when I got up and joined him by the window. “I’m going to need it.”
“You might have had enough.” He emptied the last of the bottle into my flute. “You drank it all.”
“It’s been a long day, and it’s about to get longer.” I pushed the rim of the glass to my lips as Marchello entered the room.
He was as impeccable as he had been when we left the penthouse this morning. Even though he had removed his jacket and tie, he still looked every bit the meticulous businessman slash gangster.
I, on the other hand, didn’t hold up as well. I had cried most of my eye makeup off at the dealership and lost the rest of it during my afternoon drinking binge.
“Ricardo.” Marchello thumbed toward the hallway. “I’ll take it from here.”
Ricardo set the empty bottle on the bar and came out from behind it.
“You don’t have to go.” I chugged the rest of my drink. “We’re not done shopping.”
“We can pick up where we left off tomorrow.” He kissed my cheek. “Please try to keep yourself in check.”
“You mean try to behave?” I glanced at Marchello. “Not even he can make me do that.”
“Ricardo.” Marchello nodded toward the hallway. “Now.”
“Good night.” Ricardo scurried out of the room like a nervous church mouse.
“Why are you so mean to him?” I asked Marchello.
“That was me being polite.”
I went around the bar and checked the mini-refrigerator. “Oh no.”
“What?”
“We’re out of champagne.” I leaned against the bar, steadying myself against the chilled granite.
“You don’t need any more champagne.”
“I don’t need a lot of things, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want them.” Why did I say that? “Not that I want you.”
“I’m going to order us dinner,” he said.
“I’m not hungry.” I pushed past him, swayed over to the couch, and plopped down next to the laptop. “I need your credit card.”
Without arguing or hesitating, he reached into his pocket and took out his wallet. He opened it and slipped out a black credit card.
I’m about to exceed your limit.
He strutted toward me, unbothered by my request.
Why isn’t he fighting with me?
He held the card in front of me. “Have at it.”
“I don’t think you can afford me.”
“I guess that depends on what you mean.”
Snatching the card from him, I rolled my eyes. “It’s me who can’t afford you, considering I lost my inheritance today.”
“You don’t need that inheritance. I can take care of you.” He went to the bar and poured himself a huge serving of vodka over ice. “You do need dinner, though.”
“Whatever.” I keyed in the numbers on the card.
He rattled the ice in his glass as I hit the submit button on my very expensive shopping spree. When I glanced at him, he unbuttoned his shirt, revealing all of his mesmerizing artwork and solid ab muscles.
The buzzing of his phone distracted me from thoughts of licking my way down his stomach to his…
He smirked when he glanced at the screen. “All of my online purchases are set up with text alerts.”
“Was I right? Am I too expensive?”
“Actually, I’m disappointed.” He set his phone on the bar. “I would have expected much more from you.”
“Well.” I waved the card in the air. “Now that I have this, you never know what kind of damage I could do.”
“I’m sure I’ll find out.” He sat next to me and put the laptop on the coffee table.
“Kill anyone today?” I tilted my head and waited for his response.
“Not yet.”
“I’m thirsty.” I hopped off the couch, but he grabbed my arm and threw me into his lap.
“If it’s not water, you’re not drinking it,” he said.
“Why are you here?” I tried to wiggle out of his hold, but he only gripped me tighter.
“I live here.”
“You have a big house in the suburbs, don’t you?”
“The family estate, yes.” He trailed his fingers along my throat. “Why do you ask?”
“I…” I pressed my hand against his chest when he brushed his lips along my jaw. “Don’t do that.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m mad at you.”
“I just bought you twelve grand worth of clothes.” He took my chin between his finger and thumb. “You can forgive me.”
“That doesn’t even begin to make up for what you did.”
“What I did?” His body tensed as he glared into my eyes. “I suggest you drop this.”
“No.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “You lied to my face.”
“I didn’t have a choice.”
“Aren’t you the one who goes around saying we always have a choice?” I pushed his hand away from my face. “You should have told me what my father did. I don’t understand why you would keep something so life-altering from me.”
“Because once you found out who your father really was, you wouldn’t be able to come back from it. How are you ever going to look at him the same way again?”
“I can’t. You’re right. But I would’ve thought you’d have wanted me to know.”
“I don’t want to talk about this now.”
None of this made sense. Why would he protect my father? What good would it do for him to keep that secret? The room turned, or maybe it was my head that wouldn’t stop spinning. Either way, he was killing my buzz.
“Why did you come here?” I asked.
“I wanted to see if you were okay.”
“You can see that I’m fucking perfect.”
He clenched his fists when I used his favorite word.
“If you don’t like my language, you should probably go.”
I didn’t want him to go, but I had no other way to express my anger over this situation. He hurt me twenty minutes after he said he loved me.
“I realize you had a shock today.” He set his hand on my thigh. “I also know you drank entirely too much this afternoon, but my patience only goes so far.”
“I didn’t drink enough, because I still can’t forget that you lied to me.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” He smacked his palm against the sofa cushion. “Yes, I lied to you. Get over it.”
“What if I can’t get over it?”
“There are things about my work that I’ll never discuss with you because they are none of your business.”
“My father shooting me is none of my business?” I scurried out of his lap. “How do you figure?”
“The aftermath is none of your business.” He stood and pointed at me. “I suggest you drop this whole thing. Don’t throw a temper tantrum, and do not provoke me. It won’t go well for you.”
“Here we go with the threats!” I threw my hands in the air. “I’m going to find the champagne.”
I hustled down the hallway and to the kitchen, extremely aware that he wasn’t far behind me. If he didn’t want me to provoke him, he shouldn’t have followed me.
He gripped my arm and turned me toward him. “Don’t walk away from me.”
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
The intensity in his gaze was more complex than usual. I could irritate him, but I knew when to pull back, even if he didn’t think I did. This was one of those moments when I should retreat, but I didn’t want to stop. Perhaps it was the alcohol making me more daring than usual, or maybe it was the anger and hurt over what my father had done.
Taking all of this out on Marchello might numb the pain the champagne couldn’t touch. Fighting with him and making him punish me was what I wanted.
What is wrong with me? Why do I crave his toxicity?
“Were you ever going to tell me?” I asked.
He shook his head.
“That’s it?” I lowered my head. “I’m just supposed to let it go and forget what happened?”
“I’d like it very much if you could.” He lifted my chin and whispered, “Please.”
Why didn’t I leave it there? Why couldn’t I accept that he wasn’t going to tell me any more than he already had? Because that’s not who I am.
“I told you I needed space,” I said.
I had to do the mature thing for once. I had to be the one to stop before we both did something we couldn’t take back.
“I gave you a few hours with your companion, who was irresponsible and got you drunk.” He gritted his teeth. “You can barely stand on your own.”
“I’m not that drunk.”
“You’ve been swaying since I walked in.”
Ricardo kept a close eye on me and kept me occupied so I couldn’t do anything that I would regret later. Marchello should be thanking him.
“Don’t insult me,” I said. “You don’t know how I feel about anything.”
“I asked you to drop this.”
“What if I can’t? What else are you hiding from me? How can I lie beside you every night and not know what’s going through your dark, troubled mind?”
“Don’t make this about me,” he said, raising his voice. “This is all you and how you can’t take no for an answer. I’ve given you plenty of allowances. You need to accept there are some things that I won’t tell you. That I can’t tell you.”
“A few hours wasn’t enough time,” I said. “I want you to leave.”
He pressed his lips together as the hold he had on my arm stiffened. “This is my house, princess. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Then I’ll leave.”
“Over my dead body.”