In Too Deep

5. Chapter Five

~Cara~

In spite of breaking down in front of Kian, I left Little Hands that afternoon feeling lighter than I had for months. In the morning, it seemed impossible that I would find a way to bring up Marco’s request, and even less likely that Kian would agree to it, but now, I had his number in my phone and he not only gave his assent to the meeting, he comforted me during my panic attack and invited me to come and watch him play too.

With every minute we spent together, he made it clearer that he was interested in me, not just as the eccentric woman who had thrown hundreds of pounds into his guitar case, but as a person and as a friend.

Maybe even more than that.

The feel of his strong arm around me and the memory of that charming smile and the blue eyes that showed both his amusement and his concern so clearly felt like something out of the teenage dreams I used to have, before I realized that my life would never play out the way it seemed to for other women. Out of nowhere, he’d appeared, giving me new hope and a new vision of what my life could be.

I could hardly believe he was real.

After arriving home and going through the security checks, I got to the hallway just in time to find Marco coming out of his bedroom, only just now having gotten out of bed. He must have been out late the night before. I hadn’t heard him come in.

He wasn’t alone. A woman stood behind him, pulling on the last of her clothes, and her jaw dropped when she saw me. “Who is that, Gianni? Are you fucking married?”

Her shrill voice made me wince, and Marco didn’t look impressed either. “If I am, it wouldn’t be any of your fucking business.” He stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind him without offering the woman any further explanation. “I’m sorry, I thought she would be gone before you got home. I overslept.”

“Gianni?” I repeated, torn between disapproval and amusement at his deception. Obviously, he lied to the woman about his identity, but he simply gave me a shrug and a roguish smile, not looking in the least sorry about it.

Marco rarely brought women home, or at least, not where I could see them. After what he just said about having her leave before I saw her, I had to wonder if he did it more than I realized. He looked even more stressed than usual, dark circles beneath his eyes that suggested no matter how late he slept today, it hadn’t been enough.

“How did things go at your charity? Did you enjoy it?”

He sounded genuinely interested as he steered me towards the kitchen where a fresh pot of coffee sat waiting. There was always fresh coffee, day or night, just in case Marco wanted it, so he wouldn’t have to wait.

I didn’t know if he meant being back at Little Hands or seeing Kian, but I stuck with the first option. “People seemed glad to see me, and the director told me I’m welcome back anytime. I could still help the kids choose an instrument even if I can’t play anymore.”

His lips tightened at the reminder and he rubbed his eyes before taking another drink of coffee. “And the Irish man? What’s his name?”

I didn’t believe for a second that he had forgotten it. “Kian. He gave me his number so that you could call him, but I know you already know that because you have my phone linked to yours so you would have seen it as soon as he put it in.”

The corners of Marco’s mouth twitched, letting me know I had it exactly right, but his eyes were still hard. “And he agreed to speak to me, just like that?”

The suspicion in his voice made me groan. “You’re the one who insisted on it, so you don’t get to hold it against him that he agreed when you set the condition in the first place. And no, he didn’t agree ‘just like that’. He thought it was weird and ridiculous, but he agreed because he wants to see me again. Is that so impossible to believe?”

“Of course not.” He took another long sip while I waited to see what he planned to do next. “I’ll call him in a few days. I have some things I need to take care of that are going to keep me busy until then.”

I didn’t bother asking him what those things were since I knew from experience he wouldn’t tell me. “Is your friend going to be staying for dinner?” I gestured back at his closed bedroom door, and Marco’s lips twitched again.

“She’s already gone. The guys took her out the back way.”

There was a ‘back way’ out of his room? How did I not know about that? And how did ‘the guys’ know to show her out?

“I don’t need to go out until later,” he continued. “Why don’t we watch a movie together or something? Like old times?”

On the way home, all I could think about was pulling out the composing software Marco had bought me after the accident. It allowed me to write music without actually needing to type or play anything, through voice commands, but I hadn’t used it very much yet. I hadn’t felt inspired enough to try to write, but after seeing Kian working with the kids that day, a new tune had been playing in the back of my mind and I wanted to try to get it down before I forgot it.

On the other hand, Marco hardly ever hung out with me anymore. It seemed my outburst at him about how I had no one to spend time with actually made an impression on him, and it felt ungrateful to turn him down when he was clearly making an effort.

Therefore, I gave in. Hopefully, my inspiration would wait. “Sure. That sounds nice.”

“Sofia? We need popcorn.”

Marco didn’t even have to raise his voice. The kitchen maid sat within earshot, just out of sight in the pantry, waiting to be summoned if needed, and she immediately started moving around to get started on his request.

“What else, Cara? Gummy bears? Coke floats?”

We shared a smile at the memory. Shortly after our parents died, Marco tried so hard to make me smile again that one night, he turned the whole living room into our own private cinema, complete with a candy counter just as well-stocked as any real venue. We sat around on giant beanbag chairs and watched cheesy rom-coms, much to my 18-year-old brother’s dismay, gorging ourselves on sweets until we both felt sick. He held me as my complaints about my aching stomach turned into sobs of pain and grief as I finally opened up to him about my feelings of loss.

That seemed like a very long time ago. I still missed my parents, but the sting had long since lost its edge.

“Not today,” I told him with a smile. “Just you and the popcorn would be perfect.”

He had always been there for me, always looking out for me and trying to make my life better, maybe not in the ‘right’ ways, but in the ways he knew how. The security and the overprotectiveness were his way of showing he cared and I had to accept that about him since deep down, he loved me. In an uncertain, unfamiliar world, I could count on that one thing.

Hopefully, Kian would see that too, and would know just what to say to Marco to set his mind at ease, the same way he always managed to do with me. I would be on pins and needles until that day arrived, waiting to hear what Marco’s verdict would be, because as much as I loved my brother, I couldn’t live the rest of my life under his careful watch. I’d simply been going through the motions of living since my accident, but it felt like the time had finally arrived for me to try to find a new path.

Fragile wings pushed against the restraints I’d accepted for far too long. I just needed Marco to let me fly.

~Kian~

The call came in while my hands were full of cans of baked beans. The woman who ran the food bank where I volunteered had identified me early on as someone capable of carrying heavier loads than many of her other volunteers, so my shifts often required a fair bit of physical labour in the warehouse, moving things around to where they needed to be. I didn’t mind; in fact, it made a nice change from my musical pursuits. It also meant less time at the gym to keep in shape. No one could claim my new life wasn’t balanced.

Finding a place to set the tray of cans down safely, I pulled my phone out as quickly as possible. The display showed an unknown caller, giving me no clue who it might be. “Hello?”

“Kian Murphy?” The rather posh, elegant voice on the other end of the line confused me. Maybe I’d gotten my hopes up for nothing. It had been four days since I last saw Cara, and I hadn’t heard a thing.

“This is him.”

“My name is Marco Russo. I believe you’re expecting my call.”

This was Marco? I expected him to sound more like the street thugs we apprehended, the ones who worked indirectly for him. I thought he’d sound brasher, more threatening, less cultured. He sounded… well, he sounded a lot like Cara, to be honest, and it disconcerted me.

“Cara did tell me you might be calling,” I agreed as genially as possible. “How are you, Marco?”

He skipped the pleasantries, as if I hadn’t asked. “We should talk face-to-face. It’s much easier to get to know someone that way.”

I had no problem with that. In fact, I preferred it too. “That’s fine. When are you available?”

“Now.”

He had to be messing with me, even though his voice held no hint of humour in it. Keeping my own tone mild, I laid out the problems with that suggestion. “I’m actually busy right this second, plus I’m in the East End. It’ll take me a while to get to you, but if we set a time…”

“I’m at the Costa Coffee two blocks away from you. I’ll be here for the next ten minutes. If you don’t show up by then, I’ll assume you’re no longer interested.”

The call disconnected before I had a chance to formulate any kind of response, leaving me staring at the phone in consternation. I knew he could and would look into my background, but the fact that he knew exactly where I was right that second sent a chill down my spine. I’d been trying to keep an eye out for anyone following me around and I hadn’t noticed a thing.

Should I give in to his ridiculous demand or not? What would a ‘regular’ person do in my situation? If I refused to go, it might be more realistic, but it could set my cause back by weeks, if not permanently. From an operational standpoint, making contact in person seemed the best move. I would have to just try to play it as naturally as possible when I got there.

“Alice?” I called down the warehouse aisle, hoping she was in earshot. “I’ve got to take a short break, is that alright?”

Thankfully, the shift leader didn’t seem upset, probably because I had never asked for any favours before. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just need to talk to someone. It shouldn’t take too long.”

After running her through where I’d got to on my list for the day, I promised to be back as soon as I could and hurried out into the street. I had six minutes left, and I had no illusions that Marco might be bluffing. He had probably started a stopwatch as soon as he hung up with me. Guys like him loved to feel important in small, aggressive ways. No matter which side they were on, they all seemed to have that one thing in common.

I spotted Marco as soon as I stepped into the coffee shop. He sat at a table alone, wearing an expensive suit, looking like a City businessman if not for the tattoos on his knuckles. At tables on either side of him were his bodyguards, scanning the room from behind their sunglasses. Both of them stared at me blatantly as I walked in.

“Marco Russo?” I asked the question even though I already knew the answer as I walked up to the table. When he nodded his head, just barely, I laid into the speech I’d prepared on the way over here. “You’ve got some nerve. I don’t know who you think you are but you can’t expect people to drop what they’re doing to suit your timeline. How the hell did you know where I was anyway? This is fucking creepy is what it is. Cara’s an amazing woman, but all of this…” I gestured at him and the bodyguards, and the whole shop, “... this is a little too much for me.”

“And you came all the way over here to tell me that?” He seemed completely unbothered by my outburst, despite how tense his guards looked.

“There was no return number on my phone or I would have just called you back. You left me no choice, and I didn’t want Cara to think I didn’t try. You can tell her I showed up but that you successfully scared me off, since you’re obviously trying to do just that. I’ve really enjoyed getting to know her and I wish her the best, but this is insane.”

With that, I turned around and headed for the door, hoping I hadn’t pushed it too far. I needed this to pay off and my gut told me it would. Cara seemed to think Marco genuinely cared about her, and if he did, he wouldn’t want to disappoint her.

He needed me as much as I needed him.

My hand was on the door before he called out after me. “Wait. You’re already here. Let’s start over.”

Feigning reluctance while internally breathing a sigh of relief, I looked back over my shoulder, glancing around at the other coffee shop patrons, some of whom were staring at us outright while others pretended they hadn’t heard a thing, even though they clearly had. Neither of us kept our voices down.

Marco turned to the man on his right. “Tommy, get Mr Murphy a drink. Whatever he likes.” He gestured to the seat across from him, even though I still hadn’t moved from the door. “Sit. I won’t keep you long.”

With a grimace, I turned back around the rest of the way and muttered, “Americano,” to Tommy as he headed to the counter. I pulled the chair out from the table, keeping my distance from Marco as I sat down.

Despite the suit and the attitude, close up, he actually appeared almost baby-faced. Or he would have if it weren’t for the scar down one side of his face, the tattoo on his neck, and the hard, calculating gleam in his eyes. I’d never seen a good picture of him before. Everything we had was from CCTV, distorted and pixelated. He had Cara’s blue eyes, but without any of the warmth or vulnerability in them.

I kept the attitude up since Marco seemed to be responding well to it. “Do you seriously do this with everyone who meets your sister, or am I special for some reason?”

“I keep an eye on who she spends time with,” he answered, equally bluntly. “She’s a rich, beautiful woman, the kind of person that people would take advantage of. Our father would be doing it if he were here, and trust me, you’re lucky to have me instead of him.”

I felt far from certain about that, but I played along. Since he’d referred to me as ‘Mr Murphy’, I did the same. “With all due respect, Mr Russo, it’s not like I’m wanting to marry her or running some kind of scam. I’m not about to ask her for a loan to save my dying relatives. I simply asked her to come down to the pub on a Friday to listen to me play.”

“She mentioned that you’re a musician.” He left it as a statement, but he clearly wanted me to elaborate, so I did.

“I play and sing a bit, yeah. Not like she used to, I’m not at that level, but I appreciate music and Cara obviously does too. I think that’s why we hit it off.”

I could see the pride in his eyes when I praised Cara’s ability and made a mental note of that. It seemed an easy way to get on his good side.

“And what about after that? After she listens to you play?”

I gave a humourless laugh, shaking my head as my coffee was placed on the table in front of me. “I don’t have a plan. I just like talking to her, and I’d like to do it again, as long as she’s enjoying it too. I don’t have any agenda beyond that.”

A bald-faced lie, obviously, but since he was lying to me too, it felt justified. Him not wanting me to get close to Cara had far more to do with his own business than it did with whether or not I wanted to take advantage of her.

“You seem like a decent man,” Marco mused while I took a sip of the hot, black coffee, making sure my hand remained steady. I had a feeling that was partly why he’d got it for me, to check how nervous I might be. “Volunteering here and there, helping the kids. I’d like to be able to trust you, Kian.”

We’d moved to a first-name basis, apparently. That seemed like a good sign.

“Then you could give me the benefit of the doubt,” I suggested, since it seemed obvious. “Let Cara come to the pub. Hell, you can come too if you want.”

That suggestion almost made him smile. “Maybe I will. But first, I need to find out for myself if you can be trusted.”

My heart beat a little faster as those cold blue eyes bore into me. “And how would you do that?”

“By asking you to do me a little favour.”

~Cara~

Marco had warned me he’d be busy for a few days and he hadn’t exaggerated. I didn’t actually see him again until Wednesday evening, four days after our movie afternoon, but that night, he called out to me from his office as I walked past.

“Supper in twenty minutes?”

“Um, yeah, sure. Okay.”

I couldn’t hide my surprise. We barely ever ate together anymore, but between the movie night and this, he seemed to be making a legitimate effort, even if his work kept him occupied the rest of the time. I appreciated that, but what I really wanted to know was whether he had made contact with Kian yet. Kian told me he’d be playing at a pub on Friday, now only two days away, and I really wanted to go. For most women my age, going out on a Friday night would be a regular occurrence, but I had only been to a pub a handful of times in my entire life, and usually only with Marco and his friends; never with a man focused on me.

Maybe I could get an update over dinner, though, so I went to my room and changed out of my work clothes before sitting down at my computer. I’d been working with the composing software for the past four days, getting more and more familiar with it and learning all of the little tricks to make it work better for me, and faster. Though it would never be quite the same as playing it myself, hearing the virtual piano playing the notes I’d written filled something inside me that I had previously thought might be empty forever.

With my eyes closed as I listened, immersing myself in the piece and trying to spot any changes that would make it better, I didn’t hear my door open. I didn’t realize Marco stood in the doorway at all until the music ended and he cleared his throat, making me jump.

“That was really nice. Did you write it?”

Fumbling with the mouse with my stiff hand, I closed the program. “It’s not ready for anyone to listen to it yet.”

“I think it sounds wonderful,” my brother disagreed. “You’ve been spending a lot of time on it. Is this all because of Kian?”

I ignored his question to focus on the other thing he’d said instead. Something about it struck me the wrong way. “How do you know how much time I’ve spent on it? You haven’t been around, Marco. Are you spying on me here in the house too?”

The muscles in his cheek twitched. “Spying is a sinister word. Your computer keeps a log of what programs are accessed and for how long. So does mine. I check them to make sure we’re not being hacked, and I noticed that you’ve been using this program a lot. That’s the reason I know.”

He always had a way of making things sound so logical even though I knew they weren’t. How many other people regularly checked their computer logs to make sure they weren’t being hacked? I had my doubts about it being very common.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he added, also par for the course. He could avoid and divert away from my concerns all he wanted, but when he asked me something, I had to answer whether I wanted to or not.

That wouldn’t stop me from trying to get out of it, though. “Because it’s not an easy question to answer.” I got up and walked past him, down the hall to the kitchen where supper would be waiting. As I expected, two plates were already laid out at the small kitchen table, just like when we were younger and ate together more often.

“I don’t see what’s so difficult about it.” Marco had followed right behind me and took his seat across from me. As he reached for his fork, I saw fresh cuts and scrapes across the knuckles of his hand. One looked unnaturally swollen.

“What happened to your hand?”

Marco refused to provide any details. “Don’t change the subject, Cara.”

What did he expect me to say? I tried to guess which answer might satisfy him so that we could move on. “Am I writing a song for Kian? No. Am I writing because hearing him play reminded me of the power that music has? Maybe. Am I writing because he reminded me that my life didn’t end that day, even if it felt like it? Perhaps. I don’t really know why I feel like writing now, but I do, and I started to feel that way after I met him. Is that good enough?”

Marco’s lips twitched at my outburst, and he bowed his head in acceptance. “That’s all I wanted to know.”

I waited a few beats to see if he would say something else about Kian now that he’d brought him up, but when he didn’t, I had to give in to my curiosity and ask instead. “Have you spoken to him yet?”

“I have.” He took a bite of his meal, chewing it slowly as I waited for him to add any kind of extra detail.

“And?” I finally had to ask.

“I’ve given him a small task to complete. A simple test to see if he’s trustworthy. If he passes, you can go and see him on Friday.”

“A test?” I could hardly believe my ears. If it were anyone else, I would think it was a joke, but Marco very rarely teased me in that way. “What kind of test?”

“The same one I give all my potential employees. It’s nothing difficult, it just lets me gauge the type of person he is.”

“He’s not applying for a job with you,” I pointed out, though I shouldn’t have to. Any sane person would see the difference for themselves.

“Do you think I hold my employees to a higher standard than the people who want to get close to you? I already told you, Cara, you’re the most important thing to me, and any man who wants to enjoy your company should be willing to walk through fire to get there.”

“You’re insane,” I mumbled as I shoved a forkful of food into my mouth. Arguing with him did no good, so there wasn’t much else I could say.

Marco didn’t take it as an insult. He simply grinned. “That’s the exact word he used too.”

He laughed as I groaned. I honestly couldn’t imagine what he must have done to get Kian upset enough to say that.

“He also invited me to come along and listen to him play on Friday,” Marco added. “If he passes my test.”

My stomach knotted in disappointment. Why would Kian do that? I didn’t want Marco and his goons there; I wanted a nice, normal night out, like a regular person.

Marco laughed again at the look on my face, apparently betraying how I felt. “Lucky for you, I already have plans on Friday. But I like that he asked. It shows respect.”

“It shows he’s a nice, regular guy who isn’t worried about ‘respect’ and ‘tests of trust’,” I argued back. “His life isn’t like yours, Marco. It’s not like mine either, and I like that about him. Please, don’t try to make him into something he’s not.”

“You really do like him.” Marco sounded almost thoughtful as he stated the fact which, though I hadn’t stated it in so many words, not even to myself, couldn’t really be argued with. “Let’s hope he comes through, then.”

I did hope for that, and I also hoped that whatever Marco had asked of him didn’t scare him off entirely. Assuming I could see him on Friday, I would have a lot to apologize for. It felt almost impossibly far away when I hadn’t had anything to look forward to in so long, but hopefully, all my waiting and worrying would be worth it in the end.