Chapter 6
Marina
The car is too quiet as the driver pulls out of the alley behind the library and onto the busy San Francisco streets. I should think of something to say, but I have no idea what I’m doing. I shouldn’t even be in this car. With him. I should be walking home so I can study the materials I printed on Ethan Montclair over a plate of leftover lasagna.
Still, an hour won’t hurt—and I really, really want to know what’s up with this guy. Something inside me won’t let go of it, which is funny really…because I can’t let go of his reasons for not wanting to let me go. It’s almost like we’re obsessed with each other. We can’t figure one another out.
“Brandon mentioned he used to listen to my music with his dad,” Zach says softly, a quizzical look on his face. His deep brown eyes are both soulful and unnerving.
I nod. “His father was killed in a car wreck six months ago,” I reply quietly. “He never knew his mother. Aunt Grace is the only family he has. ”
Zach nods in understanding, empathy etched onto his face.
“She looks so young,” he says quietly.
“She’s 23,” I answer. “My age. With a five-year-old and a job that doesn’t pay near enough to support them both. Truthfully, she’s struggling.”
He seems to get lost in thought for a moment, rubbing his palms across the tops of his jean-clad thighs. The muscles in his biceps and forearms flex and bunch as he moves, the tight sleeves of the long-sleeved t-shirt he’s wearing doing nothing to disguise it. I wish I didn’t notice.
“Danielle mentioned some of the children tonight are in foster care,” he says softly.
I nod.
“The library has a few programs that offer free or low-cost activities for them,” I explain. “I volunteer to manage this one.”
Zach’s eyes go wide, and I beam a little proud smile.
“This is your program? You created it?”
I nod again. “Foster kids have a special place in my heart,” I say, not offering any further explanation.
He’s thoughtful for a moment. “I can see that.”
The car gets quiet again.
“And you?” he asks. “Have you been able to stay clear of scrutiny at work? No one has discovered you’re the mermaid in the viral news story?”
I shake my head. “Not yet,” I hedge. “But my boss paused the news footage of us this morning to show me I have a twin out there.”
He blinks back his surprise. “He didn’t put it together?”
“ She lives in her own world, really. A singing mermaid is not something she’d spend time thinking about, and, given my office persona, I think it’s too far of a reach for her to make.”
He tilts his head. “Your office persona? ”
I shrug. “This job is a step on a ladder for me,” I explain. “I have my foot in the door of San Francisco’s most prestigious law firm. If I play my cards right, I can get a recommendation to the law school of my choice and possibly a better job within the firm. My office persona is who they want me to be, not who I really am.”
His eyebrows knit together. “How?”
I shrug again. “I shop at thrift stores near high-end neighborhoods so I can afford the designer suits and shoes that get their respect. My hair is always in the same style, efficient and professional. I wear very little makeup, have no friendships with people at the office, and do whatever they want me to do when they want me to do it. I’m the assistant they turn to for everything now because they know I’m all about the firm and I’ll get the job done. It’s exactly what I want them to think.”
“No friendships at the office?” he says incredulously. “So what do you do on a Monday morning when someone says they had a great weekend and they obviously want to talk about it.”
I laugh softly. “I usually give them a polite smile and say something like ‘how wonderful to hear’ as I walk out of the break room and back to my desk.”
He laughs out loud.
I smile proudly. “When you’re always in motion, you’re harder to pin down.”
His face lights up like I’ve just given up a secret, and I find myself wondering why. I wait for him to say more, but he just nods.
“And what if someone asks you how your weekend was?” he asks, looking like he already knows my answer. It’s unnerving.
“I just say it was great, or I cleaned my apartment or…something generic,” I reply. “They don’t really care, they’re just being polite.”
The car slows to a stop, and I look out the window. Nonno’s Italian Bistro looms outside, its festive Italian decor lighting up the street .
“Can you pull around to the rear entrance, please?” I ask the driver, not missing Zach’s quizzical glance.
The driver pulls into the small parking lot and turns around the back of the building, stopping close to the back door. An awning covers a large part of the back entrance, shielding it from the rain. He gets out of the car before I have a chance to open my door, then trots around to my side and opens the door with a smile.
“Ma’am,” he says with a quick nod.
Wow.
“Thank you,” I answer, stepping out of the car just as Merry comes out of the back door of the restaurant.
Zach slides out of the car and stops short when he sees her.
“Oh!” he says with a grin. “Hello again!”
Merry waves, holding the door open for us. The smell of freshly baked breadsticks and delicious sauces hits me full force. I smile but manage to give Merry a mock glare as I step inside.
“I’ll speak with you later, Merry,” I tell her in what I think is an ominous tone, but she smiles at me like she’s not worried in the least.
Merry walks us through the kitchen. As soon as her grandpa sees me, I smile. He throws his arms in the air and cuts a path through all the kitchen workers, wrapping me in a zesty, pasta sauce-smelling hug. I hug him back. Nonno DeLuca is one of my favorite humans on the planet.
“My little beauty, Marina!” he yells over the kitchen clamor in his lovely Italian accent. “It’s about time you come to see Nonno!”
He notices Zach trailing behind us and releases me, then steps between us. Zach looks at me nervously as Nonno squints at him.
“Who is this?” Nonno asks, pointing a stubby finger at Zach.
“That’s Marina’s friend Zach, Nonno,” Merry interjects. “They just came for a quiet dinner, that’s all!”
“No fuss,” I object quickly, but it’s already too late .
Nonno whirls around, his face exploding with joy as he puts his meaty hands on either side of my face and squeezes.
“Marina, bella!” he cries out, gently shaking my head as he squeezes my cheeks together. “You finally have a date!”
Zach bursts out laughing, and I try to glare at him, but I’m sure it makes me look even more ridiculous. I grab Nonno’s hands and pull them away from my face with a kind smile.
“No, not a date,” I interject helplessly, but he’s already reaching for Zach’s hand to shake it.
Zach introduces himself, and Nonno wraps him in a bear hug when the handshake is over. How do I make this stop? How?
“Nonno!” Merry yells, laughing. “Let him go!”
Does he listen? No. Nonno never does. He grabs my hand and Zach’s and brings them together like we’re three-year-olds on a playground being told to make friends. Zach’s warm fingers instantly wrap around my hand, and my traitorous fingers respond in kind.
Despite my level of embarrassment being at DEFCON-1 right now, feeling Zach’s hand wrapped around mine makes me want to giggle like a teenager on her first date. My heart is pounding like crazy. I hate how good this feels. How natural. It’s safer if I don’t like it. Zero attraction would make this whole evening more manageable, but he’s like a magnet. A big sexy Marina magnet, dragging me towards him no matter how much I try to run.
“You two!” Nonno croons. “You will have the best date! Nonno make it perfect. Merry, get a table.”
Merry hugs her Nonno and herds him back into the kitchen. “Nonno, go and cook! I’ve got this.”
Nonno keeps yelling from the kitchen. “Marina, eat some breadsticks! You too skinny!”
I feel an overwhelming urge to bury my face in my hands, but one of my hands is still linked with Zach’s. He smiles down at me and steps closer.
“For what it’s worth,” he purrs, lowering his mouth close to my ear. “I think you’re perfect.”
I feel a traitorous blush creeping up my cheeks, and I look away just as Merry motions for us to follow. I start to pull my hand away, but Zach keeps a hold of it with a gentle squeeze as we follow Merry. We’re escorted into the restaurant, which is bustling with customers, but we’re on the other side of a screen made of ficus trees. No one can see us. We’re escorted to the family’s booth, which is behind a partition so Merry’s family members who work at the restaurant can take breaks and not be seen by customers. Usually, the table is covered in papers and clutter from one or more members of her family, but tonight, it’s pristinely clean. The green upholstered booth seat curves around a semi-circle table. A small vase of fresh flowers, just like those that adorn the customer tables, is in the center, and there are place settings for two. My heartstrings tug a little at all the trouble Merry went through to make space for us.
“Your table for the night,” she says lightly, grabbing a menu from a holder nearby and handing it to Zach. “Marina knows the menu well, so this is for you. I’ll be back in a bit.”
“Thank you,” Zach calls after her, then turns to his menu. “What are you hungry for?”
“Normally lasagna, but Ashley made some yesterday, and I’ll be eating leftovers for days.”
He grins. “You ladies are big Italian food fans?”
I nod firmly. “Pasta is the solution to all of life’s problems, and I’ll die on this hill.”
He throws his head back and laughs, and I don’t miss the jittery feeling that springs into my chest at the deep, throaty sound of it. However much I might not want to admit it, Zach has an energy about him that makes me feel good just being near him. I can see why he’s beloved by so many all over the world. He just puts everything out there for all to see. I haven’t been that way in a very long time.
“How about something to share? What’s good here?”
I raise my eyebrows and scoff. “Everything,” I say. “But you seem like a spaghetti and meatballs kind of guy.”
He tilts his head at me. “Oh, I have to hear the explanation for this. Why do I seem like a spaghetti and meatballs guy?”
Now it’s my turn to grin like a Cheshire cat. “You know, messy and all over the place.”
His grin is wide as he chuckles. “Ouch!”
Merry reappears, raising an eyebrow at me as if she caught me flirting. I’m not flirting. I narrow my gaze at her as a reminder that we’re going to talk later about her inviting Zach to the library. She still doesn’t look sorry.
“Lasagna?” she asks, pointing at me.
I shake my head. “Ash made some yesterday.”
“I think we’ll share the spaghetti and meatballs,” Zach interjects, a secret smile directed at me.
My toes curl in response.
“I’ll put that order right in,” Merry drawls, wiggling her eyebrows at me as she exits.
As Merry leaves, I turn my attention back to Zach…whose gaze has called those butterflies back again. I flatten my palms against the coolness of the table.
“I promised you an hour,” I say coolly. “What would you like to talk about?”
He shrugs. “Everything.”
I laugh softly. “Can you narrow it down a little?”
He studies me for a moment as if he’s trying to figure out how far he can go. What questions are okay, and what questions are too much. Like he knows me already .
“How long have you been singing?” he asks quietly.
I shrug. “As long as I can remember.”
He smiles again, and I feel like it’s just for me. Anyone else might see it and think it’s just a smile, but for me? That smile is reaching across the table and whispering in my ear… I completely get you .
My whole life, I’ve felt like I had to explain myself—and yet even when I intentionally give him the briefest answer possible, he hears the whole message. I’ve been singing my whole life, and I don’t remember a time when it didn’t feel completely natural to sing. The look on his face tells me it was the same for him.
“And you never wanted to sing professionally?” he asks me with a tone of disbelief.
“Once upon a time, maybe,” I say with a shake of my head. “But life changes things. Besides, I can’t really sing. I’m just okay.”
Zach’s eyes grow wide. “What? Tell me you don’t believe that.”
I nod. “That’s how it is,” I explain. “One of the high schools I went to was in a very affluent neighborhood. I was in the school chorus while I was there. All the girls who were really serious had voice coaches their parents paid a fortune for. A few of them actually had agents. They were really serious. I just wanted to sing.”
He tilts his head. “If you have natural talent, you don’t need a voice coach, Marina.”
I shrug, hoping he changes the subject. I don’t like talking about the past. My past.
“What did your parents say?” he asks softly.
I flinch, immediately hoping he didn’t notice. He waits for me to answer, his face giving me no indication he saw my reaction. But I can’t answer. In fact, to my horror, my throat begins to tighten, and I don’t think I could speak even if I wanted to. I look down at my hands, willing my eyes not to fill up. I shake my head wordlessly, hoping he moves on .
“Nonno, please!” Merry yells back at the kitchen, stomping our way with a basket of breadsticks.
She puts the basket on the table, sees my expression, and raises her eyebrows at me in silent question. I give her a slight nod.
I’m okay .
I was actually starting to relax and wasn’t expecting the question. That was all.
“He’s been fussing at me back there to bring you breadsticks since you sat down,” she says, shaking her head. “I’m trying to figure out a cookie recipe I’m playing with, and he’s freaking out because you’re going to die from starvation.”
We both laugh, and I’m grateful for the distraction. I take a deep breath and then another. Merry jabs a finger at the basket, and I take a breadstick and pass the rest to Zach.
“Your food should be out shortly,” she says with a grin. “Please don’t hate me.”
With that, she runs back to the kitchen and I wonder what surprises are in store now.
“Oh…wow…” Zach mumbles around a mouthful of breadstick.
His eyes are closed, and he’s obviously having a moment. I understand completely. There’s nothing like Nonno’s breadsticks or anything else he makes for that matter.
“Okay,” Zach says with a nod, wiping his mouth with his napkin. “No more burning ambition to sing? You’d make a lot more money with that voice on stage than in any courtroom.”
I frown at him. “I don’t want to be a lawyer for the money.”
His eyes light up at my reply. “No? You work at a fancy law firm. And you’re desperate to ensure our little duet isn’t discovered by them, so I thought—”
“You’re way off base,” I reply, more than a little disappointed in him for thinking I’m motivated by money and equally so in myself for caring about what he thinks of me. “I need this job for all kinds of reasons. First, because Ashley’s engaged. They haven’t set a date yet, but that’s coming. I can’t afford to live by myself right now. Scarlet and Merry don’t need roommates, and there’s no one else I trust. I need to be ready to find an apartment I can afford when the time comes. That means I need a promotion and a raise.”
He’s completely still, his attention fully focused on me, so I continue.
“Second,” I say, holding up two fingers like I’m ticking items off a list. “If I’m going to make a difference as a lawyer, I need to get into the best law school I can. I had good grades, but a letter of recommendation from the most respected law firm in San Francisco carries a lot of weight. If I impress my boss, I can get those things, but she doesn’t like drama. The firm doesn’t like anything remotely scandalous or frivolous or…viral. If they put it together that I’m the mermaid, I can forget about a raise, a promotion, or a referral for law school. And I could lose my job. It all goes down the drain.”
He’s grinning at me ear to ear, but not in jest. If I didn’t know better, I’d say it was pride shining in his eyes. But that can’t be right. He doesn’t know me. I’m nothing to him. Maybe it’s the breadsticks. I’m going with that. It’s a Nonno breadstick high.
“You are going to be an amazing lawyer, my lady,” he croons in that ridiculously sexy British accent.
“Why do you say that?” I ask a bit breathlessly.
Although I hate the effect he has on me, I also really want to know what he thinks.
He leans back and admires me for a moment. I’m not sure if it’s the light in those warm brown eyes or the smile on his handsome face, but he makes me feel valued. Seen. I’ve never felt that way around a man before. It’s both thrilling and unnerving.
“You have such passion for the things you care about, Marina,” he says almost reverently. “You lit up just now, fighting to make your point. To make your voice heard.”
I can’t help the small smile I feel turning at the corners of my mouth. “I lit up?”
His eyes rove over my face. “Like a bonfire on the beach, Siren.”
I laugh at the sound of his nickname for me and shake my head.
“I’m no siren,” I say pointedly.
He leans forward, bracing his forearms on the table. The muscles in his arms flex as he folds his hands in front of him, and I have to fight not to watch them.
“I completely disagree, counselor,” he teases, eyes full of mischief. “I was an innocent man, relaxing in my own space, when your voice lured me outside. I followed it, unable to resist, until I found you. And now? I’m trapped. And I don’t think I’ll ever be the same again.”
The sight of Merry coming out of the kitchen with a giant platter is enough to stop me from replying. Not that I could say much if I wanted to after that speech. As much as I’d love for even part of that to be true, I know it isn’t. I’ve never provoked that kind of reaction in any man. I feel my instincts for self-preservation kicking in. I start talking myself off the ledge. He’s flirting. It doesn’t mean anything. He does this with a lot of women.
“Here we are,” Merry sings as she sets a family-sized platter of spaghetti and meatballs between us. The meatballs are arranged in a heart shape.
She catches the incredulous look on my face, grins, and turns around immediately.
“Don’t be mad at me,” she calls. “Nonno’s orders!”
Zach and I look at each other and laugh out loud. He crooks a finger at me.
“You’re going to have to come closer,” he says, gesturing at the massive plate. “Nonno has seen ‘Lady and the Tramp’ one too many times. ”
I pick up my fork and scoot a little closer. This booth is massive. It’s not unusual to find at least five of Merry’s family members in it on any given day, but with Zach here it feels small and I don’t want to get too close. In any way. Because, for the first time in a long time, I know I’m in some danger here. Zach isn’t someone who is easily put off by my usual tricks. Add to that his obvious good looks, his considerable charm, and the whole British thing…well, I’d be an idiot if I didn’t admit it would be very easy for me to catch feelings for him.
Wordlessly, I twirl up a fork full of spaghetti, stab a meatball, and shovel the whole thing in my mouth. Zach’s eyes go wide in delight and I have to fight to keep from laughing. Good. Let him see my not-so-ladylike way of eating spaghetti. If he’s turned off, then I get what I want. Otherwise, I’ll have to keep building walls. Either way, I win.
“I don’t think I’ve ever had a dinner date with a woman who actually ate much of anything,” he says as he loads up his own fork. “That was refreshing.”
I point my fork at him. “This is not a date.”
He nods while he finishes chewing. “I am out to dinner with a beautiful woman, whom I didn’t think I’d ever get to see again, and I’m having a lovely time. There’s great food, stellar company, and I feel happier than I’ve felt in a very long time. This is a date.”
I shake my head and repeat, “It’s not a date.”
I load another fork full of spaghetti and take a bite. Nonno’s spaghetti is my favorite thing to eat on this Earth.
Merry comes over with a bottle of wine and two glasses. She wordlessly fills them, winks at me, and retreats back to the kitchen. She waves when Zach thanks her.
“This is the best spaghetti I’ve ever had,” Zach grumbles over his plate.
I nod. “There’s none better. Nonno is a magician with food. ”
He watches me for a moment, then digs back in for another bite. “Call it what you want, Marina,” he says with a devilish grin. “I can’t stop you. But this is a date to me.”
I raise my chin. “Fine. You enjoy your date with a mermaid who doesn’t exist, and I’ll just stay over here having a chat and a few bites of spaghetti with this guy I just met.”
As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I cringe—because Zach’s eyes light up in amusement. Challenge obviously accepted. Did I mean to issue a challenge? No. Am I going to back down? Also no.
“All right, let’s chat,” he says with an intimidating grin. “Can I tell you all about my date?”
I roll my eyes at him.
“I have to tell someone,” he continues. “She is so beautiful. And she’s smart. She’s studying to be a lawyer, and she’s going to be a brilliant one. And her voice? She could fill concert halls with that voice, but she has no such designs. She sings to children…which I adore. There’s literally nothing I don’t like about this woman.”
I scoff. “Yet.”
He tilts his head at me curiously but says nothing. Loading up another fork full is safer than talking right now, so that’s what I do—and for a few moments, we just eat in relative silence.
I see Nonno poke his head out of the kitchen to watch us for a few minutes. Merry eventually scolds him back into the kitchen, and I bite back a laugh. I never had a relationship with either of my grandfathers because I never met them, so when I met Nonno and he instantly made room for me in his heart I was powerless. The man is a giant ball of love.
I watch Zach from behind my lowered lashes. I find him…confusing. And charming. Fun. Mildly irritating. And, let’s face it, so gorgeous. And he smells amazing. This feels ridiculous. And wreckless. Having dinner with this man is the last thing I should be doing right now, and yet here I am. I can’t seem to resist the pull of him, like the tide every night under the moon.
“May I make a suggestion for our second not-date?” he asks softly.
I roll my eyes again. “Zach.”
He laughs softly. “You’re going to love this idea.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Doubtful, because I’m not going.”
“Don’t you even want to hear what we’re doing before you say no?” he croons. “You might really want to do it.”
I raise my chin in defiance. “No, I won’t.”
Undeterred, he takes a sip of his wine, nods his approval, and squares his shoulders.
“I want to take you out to a recording studio,” he says bluntly, a grin slowly spreading across his face. “Just the two of us. To sing and have a great time without being stuck in the middle of a bridge. Where no one else will see us.”
Okay, I kind of want to do that. A lot. Back when I was a teenager, my favorite daydream was being discovered while working as a backup singer for Justin Bieber and then recording albums and touring the world with him. As it turns out, life threw me a million curve balls when I was thirteen, and the whole thing with the Bieb didn’t work out, but I have to admit it would be really fun to see inside a real recording studio. And sing with Zach again.
“How would that work?” I ask, hating myself for the elated look on his face.
He knows he’s got me.
“There’s a studio in the city I’ve used before,” he explains. “I’ll rent it out for the entire day, so it’s empty for hours before we even get there. I know the owner. He’s a good chap. There’s zero risk of media leaks with him. It’ll just be the two of us, so we can stay as long or as little as you want. I’ll send a car to pick you up.”
I take a sip of my wine, going over the risks in my mind. There doesn’t seem to be much risk if we’re not out in public together—especially if I’m getting picked up at work in a car with darkened windows and meeting him there. I chew on my lip, feeling my resolve weaken. Finally, I look up to find him watching me with a hopeful expression.
“No one can ever know,” I say lowly, a slow smile spreading on my face. “Promise?”
He grins again, prompting a little dropping sensation in my stomach, and I say a silent prayer that I’m not making a huge mistake.