Chapter Eighteen
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Georgia/ Seven Years Ago
I t’s been months since I’ve seen my father, but it might as well have been years when I get the first look of his face. He looks gauntly. Has he lost weight? He was never good at eating routinely when he was busy and tended to snap when people interrupted him to bring him anything.
The dark brown hair on his head has filled in with silver, making him look so much older than his fifty-three. And the bags under his bloodshot eyes make me wonder when the last time he got a full night’s sleep was.
“You know what I find fascinating, Georgia?” he asks, tucking his hand into the front pocket of his expensive slacks as he studies the shelves full of local history books that the library meticulously organized by alphabetical order.
He answers his own question before I can find my voice, too stunned by his presence to fully grasp that he’s in front of me. “The company you keep. First, it was your little friend Emilia DeMatteo and her godawful hair and wild temperament, and now, a cop. A cop . One who, might I add, is a little too curious for my liking.”
How does he know about Lincoln? How did he know I’d be here, for that matter? I only accepted the part-time job at the public library a few weeks ago, and my schedule isn’t consistent on a weekly basis.
“I suppose I’m partly to blame for letting you go,” he continues, not sparing me one look as he takes a book from the shelf and examines the cover. “I’ll admit, it was a…rash decision made in the heat of the moment. But I didn’t expect you to make the naive choices you have. A cop, Georgia? Really? I know I allowed you to linger around Chamberlin, but officers make things tricky if they’re not in your back pocket.”
If I had the choice, I wouldn’t have lingered around Chamberlin or his wandering hands. “You kicked me out,” I point out, standing taller in feigned confidence. “What was I supposed to do?”
When he looks at me, his expression is blank. Unreadable. There’s no indication that he’s sorry for what happened between us or that he’s missed me. It’s been almost five months. One hundred and fifty-two days since we’ve spoken or seen each other.
“You were supposed to come back home,” he informs me, his eyes roaming over the hair that I’ve chopped to my shoulders. I’d debated dyeing it something drastic like Millie suggested, but I couldn’t go through with more changes than I already had.
“I had a meeting at Dutchess,” he tells me, speaking of the golf club he frequents. “And had quite the talk with Antonio Carbone and some of his…partners.”
The way he says his name makes my skin crawl. I don’t waste my time asking how Antonio or his son is because I have a feeling I already know. I’d imagine the man isn’t very happy, considering he was promised a wife for his son, only for me to run away and ruin it.
“It has taken months to get him to speak to me after the little stunt you pulled,” he informs me, piercing me with those disapproving brown eyes that scratch my soul. “There have been a lot of sleepless nights where I’ve worked hard to get back into his and his partner’s favor. They are not the kind of men you break deals with, Georgia. I’m lucky Antonio was even willing to show up today and discuss moving forward with our business proposition.”
My heart drops. “I thought the engagement was off,” I say, voice no more than a notch above a whisper. “What proposition could he be willing to agree to?”
“The Carbone family’s real estate business is expanding nearly as fast as the Del Rossi Group,” he explains. “Combining the two would mean having an empire that could build, flip, and sell new homes in more areas. Antonio and I have mutual investors who feel this merger would benefit each business, allowing them to put stakes into one sole company rather than two. We were coming to an agreement before you decided to have your little act of rebellion.”
I still don’t understand where I come into play. “The Carbones are a respected family with the same traditions as you and Leani. It was my understanding that the engagement was off because of the circumstances.”
“Consider it back on,” he says firmly. “Luca is hardly a man with a clean reputation, as you well know. With some convincing, his father was on board with our original agreement.”
A body chill shivers down my spine.
“Rumors can wreak havoc on a family, but sometimes they’re just that. Rumors. Surely, a woman such as yourself, raised by two reputable people, would never stoop so low as to put your family’s good name at risk. You’ve been taught better. Raised better. Have you not?”
I gape at him. He wants me to lie. Pretend the last five months never happened. “You lied for me and told them what I did never happened.” I realize, shaking my head in disbelief.
“As far as I’m concerned, your little indiscretion with the cop didn’t happen.”
“And where do they think I’ve been all this time? Certainly not planning my wedding.”
“Away,” he answers plainly.
“And they just believed you?”
“They believe what they want to. They believe what they need to, especially when fifty million is on the line.”
My eyes widen at the number. “So that’s my price tag? Fifty million dollars.” The number churns my stomach. “Why would marriage need to be involved if you could simply partner and merge your companies? If you have investor interest, then make a contract that benefits you and Antonio. I don’t need to marry Luca for anything to be signed.”
He steps toward me, his presence overwhelming as I become encased by the shadow he casts. “That’s where you’re wrong. Be smart, Georgia. All of those meetings you sat in on as a little girl and eavesdropped on as a teenager should have taught you that everybody needs leverage.”
Leverage. Is that all I am to him?
“This deal will make us both very rich men with very powerful assets, which means there needs to be a tie that ensures it does not go south. The investors don’t want to put their money into failing businesses without some reassurance, and I’ve already stretched myself too thin with the men expecting profit. Marriage is about creating allies, and you and Luca Carbone will be the basis of the one we are making for this new investment. It means being put on their good side, which we both desperately need. It’s time to come home. I’ve given you time to play house and make-believe, but now it’s time to be serious.”
He’s not asking.
He’s telling.
Why would he think I’d agree to this? “I love you, even after everything. But please don’t make me do this. You must have heard the awful things Luca has done to women—”
“Like use them? Sleep with them? It would appear, my dear, that you two aren’t that different then. What have you been doing these past few months?”
We both know Luca’s reputation goes beyond playboy status. “I’m not using anybody.”
The statement tastes sour on my tongue like my body wants to reject the sentiment for the lie it is.
Because, deep down, I am using someone.
My father checks his watch. “I’ll give you two days to gather what little you have at your friend’s house before sending you a car. That should be more than enough time for you to realize how silly this whole charade has been.”
“Is this what Mom would have wanted for me?” I question, hoping to reason with him. “You two were so happy. Don’t I deserve to get the same chance at finding somebody to make me happy too?”
My father’s eyes flicker before something dark flashes in them. “Your mother,” he says slowly, “wanted you to have a future. She died for you to have a future.”
What is he talking about? “She died in a car accident.”
“Do not be naive, Georgia,” he coolly states, his voice sending ice piercing through my heart. “I have shielded you all I can, but the payment is due for the favors I’ve asked. She couldn’t get us out of it, and neither can I. It’s time to come home.”
I blink slowly, shaking my head.
He doesn’t elaborate on the jarring reply that has a heaviness settled into my chest. “Whatever fantasy you’ve made for yourself in this life”—he scowls at our surroundings—“would make your mother roll in her grave knowing what she sacrificed for you.”
My lips part, but nothing comes out except a pathetic, shaky exhale.
“You won’t be happy if you stay here,” he informs me, gesturing around the room. “Working a job that pays nothing. Living with somebody you barely know. Is this truly what you want, Georgia? Because it’s certainly not what I want for my daughter.”
The question weighs on my conscience.
What do I want? I know one thing I don’t.
I don’t want to marry Luca Carbone, no matter what it could do for my family. He knows me even less than Lincoln.
“What about what I want?” I ask him.
“You were born for better things than this,” he tells me, not giving my question the time of day. If he actually gave a damn about me, he would care enough to answer.
He walks away, saying, “Two days” over his shoulder. “If you aren’t ready in two days, there will be consequences. If you think Luca Carbone has a bad reputation, you haven’t seen anything yet. The Carbones are important people, Georgia. Being tied to them as allies is far better than being tied to them as enemies.”
*
When Lincoln pulls up to the bookstore parking lot later that night, I don’t feel the normal excitement I usually do. My brain has been wrapped around my father’s parting words for hours, latching on to the unspoken threat that still makes no sense to me. Not even seeing the window display of my favorite author’s newest book release, which I’ve been looking forward to for weeks, pulls me out of my mental slump.
“That book you’ve been talking about came out today. I checked.” He opens his door and gives me a look, seeing if I’m going to follow. “I don’t know what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, but you’re thirty feet away from your favorite cold brew, and I’m pretty sure I saw them advertise those dry as hell chocolate and rosemary scones you love so much.”
My stomach doesn’t even rumble from the thought of the sweet treats waiting inside for me or the book I’ve been nerding out about since I got a library card at work and binged the first three books in the series for free.
“Peaches?” he says softly, his fingertips brushing away strands of hair from my face.
I clear my throat, not trusting myself when he touches me. Even the slightest gesture melts the layer of protective ice surrounding my heart that my father put there himself. “Let’s go in.”
He frowns but slides out of his seat and walks around the front of his truck to my side. When he opens my door, there’s a small, comforting smile on his face as he leans against the frame. “You can talk to me. About anything.”
My eyes peek at him through my lashes. I don’t have to look long to know he means it. “Do you feel like I’m using you?”
Lincoln’s brows pinch. “No. Why?”
Wetting my lips, I fiddle with my fingers until he tips my chin up to meet his eyes.
“Georgia,” he says softly, the pad of his thumb caressing my bottom lip. “Why would you think that?”
Briefly, I close my eyes and let myself enjoy the way his hand feels on my face. His warmth soaks into me, calming me. “Because my father says I’m no different than Luca Carbone.”
Lincoln’s hand stiffens. “When did you speak to your father?”
In the back of my mind, I hear a clock.
Tick, tock. Tick, tock.
And I know my time is running out.
Two days—less than that, since I spent most of the afternoon sulking in the bubble bath while Lincoln was at his family’s house helping his father with some sort of engine restoration project. By the time he’d gotten back, I convinced myself to tell him about my father showing up at work.
But then he kissed me, and it warmed me more than the bubble bath had. And the words got stuck in my throat, lodging there and holding on for dear life to my vocal cords because I didn’t want to believe what my father implied, and I was scared Lincoln would tell me he’s right.
“He came to the library,” I whisper.
Lincoln’s hand drops. “Did he do something?”
His hard tone has me swallowing. “N-no.”
The man in front of me looks over my face as if he needs to double-check for himself. “I need you to listen to me, Georgia, and listen good.”
It’s hard to look away when his voice becomes low and demanding, a husky undertone that has me watching him as his nostrils flare.
“There hasn’t been a day when I haven’t been willing to help you. Not because you asked but because you didn’t . You’re stubborn and determined to make something of yourself, no matter what gets taken away or what obstacle is put in front of you. If I didn’t want you here, I wouldn’t have let you in. Understand?”
My heart is beating fast in my chest as I let my head bob up and down slowly.
“Did he say anything else to you?” he asks in a tone ten times softer than before.
Lips parting, I try forcing the words out.
Because Lincoln Danforth cares.
I’m not sure how much.
I’m not even sure why.
But he does.
And that’s more than I’m used to.
“He wants me to marry Luca Carbone,” I whisper, my fear-laden words thick as tears prick the back of my eyes. “Apparently, being a Del Rossi means coming with a price tag. And the Carbones are willing to pay it.”
Lincoln’s eyes, once a beautiful brown and glimmering with mischief, are now shadowed with anger. “He can’t have you.”
He can’t have you.
Is that really up to me?
“Tell me,” he grinds out. “Tell me what Nikolas said.”
I hesitate only a moment.
Watch him.
Feel his anger radiate off of him.
Then I tell him everything.
His face turns from concern to frustration to anger. Each emotion clear in his eyes, flaring his nostrils and twisting his lips. Then, when I’m done talking, silent and worried about what he’ll say, it’s like a wave washes over him, and all that anger just…disappears.
I hold my breath, ignoring the sting in my lungs as I watch him watch me. His face is red and the veins in his neck pulse so badly I worry he’ll combust.
I think about my father’s threats toward him. Can I live with myself if I let him get between Lincoln and the life he’s building for himself? I’m not sure I can.
Letting out a tiny breath, I say, “I don’t want to be the person who holds you back from your future. I’m worried he’ll do something to you if I don’t go. He wasn’t making any sense. That man is not the father I used to know, Lincoln. He’s different.”
He straightens to his full height, his eyes piercing mine for a moment longer before uttering two words: “Marry me.”
I blink slowly, surely not having heard him right. There’s no way I could have.
He taps his chest. “Marry me instead. Not Luca. Me .”
All I can do is stare in disbelief.
“It’s not a romantic gesture,” he offers, no apology in his tone but a softness trying to break through his otherwise hardened expression. “But it’s a genuine one. Marry me, Georgia. We’ll figure out the rest later.”
The rest. Love. Happiness.
A shaky breath escapes my lips. “But his threat…”
“We’ll figure it out later,” he repeats, stepping up to me and cupping my face. His fingers curl around the back of my neck, pulling my head to his. His forehead rests on mine, his breath tickling my lips. “The way I see it, it’s him or me. And I’d like to think being shackled to me wouldn’t be so bad.”
He’s offering to marry me so I won’t have to be tied to Luca Carbone. He’s willing to sacrifice love for…what? Sex? Infatuation? Lust?
It’s him or me.
It’s not exactly a hard decision.
I’ve gotten to know Lincoln pretty well.
His tics.
His habits.
His heart.
The kind of generosity he’s offered is what I would like to think my mother would have wanted for me. Not whatever future my father is set on me having.
“Peaches?” Lincoln asks softly. “I know I’m not the most romantic person, and there’s a lot in life I can’t give you. But I’d like to think I can give you peace, if nothing else.”
Peace.
Chest swelling, I find it hard to swallow.
I don’t know what choices my parents made that led me here, but maybe it was time to make my own from here on out.
So, I find myself nodding.
Because I don’t know what else to do.
To say.
There’s no ring.
No dress.
No venue.
Twenty-four hours later, two of his friends, Michael Knight and Morgan Vaughn, meet us at the courthouse to be our witnesses. I’ve never met them before. Barely heard them talked about. But they’re there at a wedding that feels like a stranger’s. A judge who knows Lincoln marries us. We sign some paperwork. Take a few pictures that feel forced and awkward.
Within two hours, I’m no longer Georgia Del Rossi but Georgia Danforth.
A wife.
And it feels so…fake.
But I remind myself it wouldn’t feel real if it were Luca Carbone I was kissing to seal the vows I would be forced to repeat, no matter if I was in an expensive gown with a church full of people watching with feigned smiles.
I prefer it small. Intimate. That way, nobody can see the doubt in my eyes when I repeat those two words for the four other people in the room to hear.
I do.
The entire thirty-minute ride to a fancy steakhouse that Lincoln told his family to meet us at is spent thinking about what my father had said.
Whatever ridiculous fantasy you’ve made for yourself in this life would make her roll in her grave.
Maybe that’s why there’s a nagging feeling in my stomach again. I wish my mother could have been here to tell me it would be all right. That she was happy I had a choice. That she liked Lincoln as much as I’m starting to.
Don’t be naive, Georgia, my father had scolded me. What did he know about her death that I don’t? I’d spent the last decade and a half mourning the woman for dying in a car accident, but why do I think there’s more to the story than he’s letting on?
Two days later, a black Escalade pulls up to the apartment building, but it isn’t my father who opens the door. It’s Leani, and in her hands is a box of belongings that had once been mine.
She gets out, her face looking…different.
Tired. Frail. She stares at the thrifted pair of jeans I got for fifteen dollars up to the plain tee with a stain on it that I got for two with disapproval.
My stepmother looks wary as she lowers the box to the ground. “You could have changed everything for us. I had hoped you would.”
Looking at me one last time, then at the building that’s a far cry from the mansion I grew up in, she shakes her head.
“Be careful, Georgia,” is her last warning before opening the car door. She gives me one last once-over with a deep frown settled into her face before letting out a shaky breath. “I don’t know what’s going to happen to us now, but I know it will not be good. Use your new connections wisely. It’ll be the only way…” She stops herself.
She gets inside and drives away, her words making the hairs on the back of my neck stand.
In the box are clothes I tolerated once, some I even liked but couldn’t fit into my bag on my hasty exit, all cut and dirtied. Underneath them, a wedding dress. Probably an expensive one because they wouldn’t dare be caught dead buying something cheap. Not even to destroy it. The silk and lace portions that might have once been a beautiful gown are all torn.
There’s no note.
No explanation.
No threat.
But I hear the message loud and clear.
I betrayed them. Cut the final ties.
Luca Carbone be damned.
I am no longer a Del Rossi.
No longer an item to be bought.
And they won’t forget that.