Chapter 10
traitor
brOOKLYN
I had no destination in mind when I’d fled the church. Only the intense need to run, to escape. So it was little surprise I mindlessly navigated the car in the direction of a jewelry store in the city only a few blocks from where I was.
There was something about the glamorous flagship store that always felt a little surreal to me.
Perhaps it was the atmosphere. Natural light created a sparkle that left me struck by the unmatched beauty of the space.
Glass and display cases that shone no matter the time of day or how many guests lingered about with greasy fingers, casually striking them in their pursuits.
Grand ceilings that made the place open and airy, allowing me to feel like I could not only breathe, but soar.
Ten floors to savor art and jewelry, my first and only true love.
Jewelry didn’t expect anything from me.
It didn’t demand anything of me.
It just existed, making the world a more beautiful place.
One intentionally chosen piece could change a look. It could give confidence, power. It told a message, whether one of its history or one of all the unfulfilled promises it represented.
If I let myself dream, I probably could’ve made myself promises. Ones that would surely never be fulfilled in this lifetime. Because I didn’t do that, my jewelry told stories of history and memories.
As I turned my focus to a signature collection that featured the most coveted designs they offered, I heard my name shouted.
In a space reminiscent of a museum, such ostentatious behavior was discouraged, so naturally he drew every eye as his voice was amplified when it ricocheted between the marble floors and the ceilings.
Not wanting to draw the attention of security or personnel, I strode toward him with purpose. “What are you doing here, Marco?” I asked, my voice a respectable volume to not disturb shoppers. “I can’t believe you followed me.”
Inhaling and exhaling a deep breath, he dropped my heels on the floor, making sure they landed upright. “I couldn’t follow you if I tried, you hellion.” He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, having already shed his jacket.
“So, how did you find me?” I asked, stepping into my heels one foot at a time.
“I called your father.”
Traitor. Raf Briggs was a traitor. “What do you want?”
“I’d like it if my fiancée wouldn’t run out on me again,” he said, a rough cadence to his voice.
Marco ran a hand through his hair, his expression appearing perplexed.
What did he have to feel that way about?
Whatever it was, he was staring off, contemplating it.
Meanwhile, my heart raced as I took the time to catalog every detail of his face, like the sharp jut of his chiseled jawline.
I would have bet I could cut myself running a hand across it.
Logic pretty much dictated I needed to tell him about the pregnancy. If for no other reason than to remove the metaphorical shackles that had been placed around his ankles the moment he was pushed, practically shoved, to marry me.
Truthfully, this was his golden ticket out.
He should take it and thank me. Yeah, that was what he needed to do.
And that was probably exactly what he would do.
It made the most sense, and it wasn’t like either of us wanted this to begin with.
Not that I would be getting out of it. My best guess was I would probably be handed off to someone else, another one of his brothers, who knew about this going into it.
“What’s going on, Brooklyn?” he asked, pinning me with an intense glare. One that caused a wave of apprehension to move through me.
Not much. “I’m pregnant.”
No small talk, no warning. Just straight to it.
That felt like the best way to go. After all, how else was I supposed to broach the subject?
It wasn’t as though we would be in these positions, standing here, with each other, for much longer.
He would ask the obvious questions, like whose it was, and then we would move on.
Go our separate ways. He would go back to being Capri’s brother, and me, her best friend.
Until the inevitable time when I walked down the aisle and became his sister-in-law.
Seemed pretty obvious to me.
Pretty robotic and depressing, to put it bluntly, but obvious, nonetheless.
Luckily, I wasn’t waiting for any monumental response, because if I had been, I would have been waiting a lifetime. He offered me nothing more than a noncommittal grunt. If a grunt was even what could have been used to describe the guttural noise that came from him.
He tugged at my hand and quietly led me out of the store to one of the concrete block benches along the street, something Marco seemed to have a keen eye for finding no matter where we were.
“Sit,” he repeated the same command as before. This time I obliged him.
Scrubbing a hand over his mouth, he took the seat next to me, his thigh brushing up against mine in the lightest of touches. “You’re what?”
“Pregnant,” I repeated, removing my hat and placing it in my lap.
I might as well have gotten comfortable, considering I had a feeling this was going to take a while.
There was almost no way either of us were catching the tail end of the ceremony.
Not that it should’ve been the case. It should’ve been quick, painless. For him, anyway.
He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. “Yeah, turns out I heard you the first time.” Angling his head, he asked, “When did you find out?”
Did it matter? It seemed irrelevant to me. “Listen, be grateful, okay?”
He screwed his nose up in disgust. “How do you figure I should be grateful?”
I shrugged, paying attention to the feathers I was mindlessly toying with on my hat. “You can leave. You’re off the hook. I’m sure our fathers will put their heads together and pick me another brother who will at the very least know what he’s in for from the beginning.”
Tension surrounded us like an unrelenting spirit.
“That wasn’t what I asked. When did you find out?”
I swallowed, looking back up and observing his muscles turn rigid. “I had my suspicions when we were taking our engagement photos with Frankie.”
“What?” He shook his head and stood up.
Shifting, I explained, “The smells. Your cologne. The tuna.”
“Tuna? What tuna?”
“Frankie’s sandwich.” Fear uncoiled in my belly all over again. “I finally took a test today.” I couldn’t keep doing this. The more I talked about it… It changed nothing. Marco didn’t need to be a part of this. It would have made it a lot simpler if he—
“Who’s the father?” he drawled, his eyes following mine as I got up and held my purse in the same hand as my hat now.
“Marco, please, he was just some man. It meant nothing.” Just like this conversation, actually.
I thought I could do this, but I couldn’t.
“Why are we even doing this right now? I should be retrieving my stuff from your place. I have to call my father. You have to call yours. Mine isn’t going to be happy with me, but we might be able to save this. If Santo really wants—”
“Brooklyn,” he roared, cutting me off like the brakes of a car, and I instinctively felt myself wind down in the same manner.
His gaze wasn’t leaving mine, but I broke the spell anyway, choosing to see his fingers encircle my wrist. “It doesn’t matter that you’re pregnant.
To me, at least. I’m not the father. It has nothing to do with me.
And this changes absolutely nothing between us.
Our fathers had a deal, and mine doesn’t take too kindly to broken arrangements, especially ones that have the potential to screw him over.
So, you and I are still engaged. Are we clear? ”
The sounds that filled the streets of New York muted, if only but for a few moments, as I studied him.
Waiting, watching, thinking it was going to happen any second.
He was going to change his mind or say that I couldn’t have honestly believed that.
Which I didn’t. Mostly because I didn’t understand it.
He didn’t want this, and this was the best way for him to get out of it.
That begged the question, why? What exactly was in this for him?
My pulse quickened as I still couldn’t figure that one out.
Deciding to address his earlier question, I cleared my throat. “His name is Robert Lyons.” With my statement, I pulled back, putting some distance between us.
He cocked his head. “Robert Lyons? As in the old fucking man behind Lyons Enterprises?”
“He’s not that old,” I countered, rolling my eyes.
You know, he didn’t really get to judge.
In fact, he should’ve been lucky I was telling him at all.
I didn’t need to. Wasn’t he the one who had said I could have my secrets?
While I thought there was more to his magnanimous offer, I wasn’t going to question it because it served my purpose.
So, really, he should’ve been satisfied with what I gave him without asking more questions.
A smirk overtook his lips, but it wasn’t an attractive look on him. “If you like expired sausage.”
My cheeks burned, and I scoffed. “Charming.” There was nothing expired on Robert. In fact, his erection was more reliable than most men I’d been out with. So were his douchebag ways, ironically enough.
“No. What’s charming is how you slept with a man with decreased testosterone levels and shrinking balls.”
I gasped slightly, turning away from him and tucking a strand of hair that had fallen loose behind my ear. “Don’t say that. He’s not that old, and not every mature man has—”
“A saggy sac?” He winked.
Unfortunately, I had a feeling those three words would forever grace the edges of my memory.
Clearing my throat, I tried to find the words to politely tell him I would have rather had this conversation with just about anyone, or frankly anything, else than him.
That was right, I would’ve rather had this conversation with a wall.
He held his hands up in surrender. “Hey, no judgment here if that’s your fetish.”
Nostrils flaring, I gritted my teeth. “You done?”
“I don’t know. Do you want me to be?” he grumbled, his underlying tone dark.
A shiver rolled down my spine like ice off a countertop. “Yes.”
When it appeared he was going to appease me, I cleared my throat. “Sorry I made you miss your family’s event.” I looked at him curiously, expectantly.
Shaking his head, I thought he was going to respond to what I said, and maybe he did, but he also grinned, saying, “Wilted berries.” He laughed, the sound vibrating through my body, all the way down to my toes, making them tingle.
Fantastic. I was marrying a clown, or at least, a man who thought he was funny.
“So what’s the obsession with this place?” Marco asked.
Weighing my options, I decided to answer in earnest. “I love it here.”
He looked up at the pink-granite and limestone facade building with the diamond on the roof before turning to face me, his eyes searching mine.
I didn’t know if he was judging me or trying to understand me, but either way, I decided to help him out. “If you haven’t noticed, which I suspect you haven’t, jewelry is kind of a big deal for me.”
He nodded, not a word coming from his lips, before he pulled his gaze from me.
As if he read the time on the iconic Atlas clock above the doors, he said, “Come on. Let’s get out of here, bella.”
I nodded, anything more than that just felt like it required too much energy. Energy I didn’t have to give. “I should return the car.”
He shook his head. “No need. It’s already been taken care of.” I could only imagine what that meant. Probably that the driver would be paid off so the entire thing could be swept under the rug without charges being filed or it hitting the news.
Good thing I was marrying a Deluca.