Chapter Twenty-Three
Lily
? “No One Knows” - Queen of the Stone Age ?
Jace Cooks lives in a penthouse overlooking the city like the little demigod I expected him to be, but what I didn’t expect was his house to be so welcoming.
He has multiple plants in the corners and the cement floors are covered with plush rugs.
His living room has more than one sitting area, and there’s a coffee table in the middle decorated with magazines and fancy vases, as well as throw pillows and blankets.
The large fireplace has candles placed along the mantel.
Everything is in warm tones with different shades of green.
His living room leads to the patio with floor-to-ceiling windows.
The only thing missing are decorations on the walls.
He needs a poster that says I Have B.D.E. and Money.
I stand by the window, looking at the city below. Everyone walking the streets looks so small living their own lives, dealing with their own issues. I always wonder what other people are going through. Are they about to say yes to a man they barely know and get married to him to save other women?
Probably not.
Jace comes up from behind me with two coffee mugs and he pushes his body into mine, kissing along my neck down to my shoulder. I turn around, giving him a small peck on the lips before grabbing one of the mugs.
“Are you worried?” he asks, taking a seat on one of the sofas.
I follow him, sitting on the couch, and throw one of the blankets over me.
“Of course I am.” The plan is insane. They want me to marry Mateo in hopes he ships me off to the mafia where I could become...
I don’t even know. They don’t even know.
They believe Mateo works for the Italian mafia, marries women, and makes them disappear.
Their theory is he ships them off to Italy to become slaves or something.
The only way Jace, Rowan, and Noah—who I still haven’t met yet, and the person who thought of this fucking idea—will find me is with a tiny GPS that will be implanted in my toenail, secured by gel nail polish.
“I promise I will be watching you the whole time,
álainn.”
“Like a Peregrine Falcon?” I smile into the rim of my
mug.
He nods. “Like a Peregrine Falcon.”
We sit in silence for a while, enjoying the coffee, until I finally have to ask. “What does, álainn mean?” He says it way better than I do.
He sets his coffee down on the table, walking toward me. He puts both hands on each side of my body, kissing me on the forehead. “It means beautiful.” He walks away, into the open kitchen behind the living room. I follow him and watch as he takes out ingredients from his fridge.
My chest starts to ache at the fact that this whole time, I thought álainn was some shitty nickname, but all along—for the past three and a half years—he has been calling me beautiful.
I sit at the barstool, watching him make us sandwiches. “When did you move to New York?”
“When I was ten,” he says, giving me a small smile, but it fades instantly.
“You’ve been in New York for forty years and you still have your accent?” I scream and duck when a slice of ham comes flying toward my face at baseball speed
“I’m only thirty-two!” He laughs.
“A seven-year difference is pretty old.” I tease.
“Well, I think my stamina is pretty good for my old age, wouldn’t you agree?
” He winks at me, and I can feel the heat rise to my cheeks and flow down my neck.
I clench my thighs together, still feeling the soreness.
He is right, his stamina is better than mine.
I don’t think I could go another round without having an asthma attack.
“My mother was from Dublin. My father is from New York and was visiting Dublin for work or some shit. They quickly fell in love and had me. But my father wasn’t happy.
He wasn’t a fan of Ireland. It took him ten years to convince my mother to move to New York.
” He smiles, staring down at the floor. “She loved her hometown. She would tell me her childhood stories every night. I guess I kept the accent but learned the New York slang to try and fit in.”
“Where is she? I would like to meet her and thank her for it.”
“She died when I was twelve.”
My whole body freezes. “Oh god, Jace, I’m so sorry,” I reach over the counter, grabbing his arm. He shakes his head and smiles at me.
I sit back down in my seat, the air instantly shifting and becoming too quiet for me.
Clearing my throat, I ask, “Did you know that Ireland has an embassy in Athens? That’s where I am from, if you didn’t know.
My family still lives out there. And Greece has an embassy in Dublin.
Coincidence for two foreigners to be put together like our hometowns.
There is also some type of archaeological place in Athens about Ireland.
I’ve never been, I’ve heard about it. A little.
And when I was a kid, I used to see how our prime minister and president visit each other on TV.
Have you ever read The Book of Invasions?
I think I was supposed to read it in school, something about ancient Greece invading Ireland.
Or was it the other way around?” I slam my mouth shut and look up to see Jace staring at me, his smile reaching his eyes.
“Sorry.” I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts.
“I love it when you do that. Your little tick of your fingers and your random facts when you’re nervous.” He passes me a plate with a sandwich and if it wasn’t for me feeling the pain of ripping my skin off from around my thumb nail, I would think I was dreaming.
The night ends after we eat our sandwiches and go over the plan multiple times.
I’m not too fond of the fact that I cannot contact Jace while I wait to be kidnapped.
I also am too fond on the fact that I accepted this whole idea in the first place, but I am definitely going to blame it on me being dick- matized.
I thought my life was going back to normal, but obviously I spoke too soon.
It's been two weeks since I have heard from anyone. At this point, I’m nervous Mateo is going to skip the proposal part and head straight to the kidnapping.
I mean, in what world would he even think I would say yes to marrying him?
Especially when I practically told him to stay the fuck away from me—in a way—but these past two weeks have been an eye opener.
Everything made sense—why he was constantly trying to go out with me, why he was always in my section, and why he eventually gave me a job.
At any time when we were together, he could have totally offered me candy and lead me to his white stalker van.
Then, boom. Lily Ballis, gone. I guess, Jace at least gave me a heads up.
Whatever Mateo plans on doing, I need him to hurry it along before I have to go back to school.
What if I accidentally don’t go back? What if I get shipped off to Italy and never come home?
Jace never finds me, Celeste loses her best friend, I never get to own a puppy, I never get to see a gala in person, I never get to see my favorite celebrities wearing a dress I designed.
It’s fine. Everything will be okay. Jace and his friends will find me.
They will find me.
I walk into the bodega, grabbing a bag of chips, and get in line. My mouth starts to water as I think about chopped turkey on a roll. I stare at the menu, trying to decide if I want a side of macaroni or cole slaw.
“I prefer the jerk chicken.”
My body tenses, my mouth going from drooling like a Doberman over food to as dry as the Sonoran Desert.
I slowly turn around, finding Mateo standing right behind me.
He is wearing a suit that fits perfectly around his body, loafers, and glasses.
I notice his dark brown hair is messy, unlike his usual pristine slicked back style.
He gives me a small smile, putting his hands in his pockets and rocking back and forth on his feet.
I think about what Jace told me about him, and I want to punch him in the throat.
Or run away, or call the cops. Bile rises in my throat the longer I stare at him.
Remember you have to be convincing. You don’t know anything, and you have to pretend to forgive and forget.
He has such a handsome face for such a fucked-up personality. I fake a smile. “Mateo, it’s well to see you.” I turn back around to the menu, trying not to cringe. “Mateo, it’s well to see you.” Who the fuck says that?
I can hear a chuckle behind me. “It’s good to see you too, Lily. What have you been up to?”
I turn back around, looking into his eyes.
I’m sure he knows what I’ve been up to. I have been coming to this bodega for years, and I have never seen him here and I don’t think this is the side of town he likes to hang out in.
“You know, just resting before school starts.” I give him a small smile.
This is going to be harder than it seems. How am I supposed to pretend that this man isn’t making women disappear left and right?
Gone without a trace, and he has no heart—no soul—to even care.
I grab the hem of my shirt, twirling it in my fingers.
“I want to—” He clears his throat, looking down at his feet.
“I want to apologize again. I know what I said was fucked, beyond means. I was having some business issues that night and I took it out on you. You didn’t deserve it.
That fucked up Mr.—” He looks back at me, smiling.
“Anyway, it doesn’t matter what happened that night.
The only thing that matters is that I hurt your feelings, and I would really love to make it up to you. ”