Chapter 22
I will not apologize
MARCO
Unbelievable.
Leave it to Brooklyn Briggs to screw with my year’s bingo card, forcing me to take Air Vito from Boca Raton back to New York earlier than I planned because she was back to making her usual messes.
It wasn’t in the least bit surprising she did something this selfish and stupid.
I would have chalked it up to us being shoved into the same prison cell as we watched our fathers close the fucking door and take the key with them, but I knew the truth.
Brooklyn had always been—and would always be—a reckless screw-up.
What befuddled me was how someone who I’d been getting to know better, someone who could be vulnerable and intelligent, was the same person who didn’t think twice about endangering herself or others.
As long as it furthered her and her agenda.
If it were physically possible, I would have been severely allergic to unnecessary mistakes that only caused problems and turmoil.
I mean, what had she been thinking?
Apparently, she hadn’t been.
The very last thing I needed was an emergency call from Lorenzo, telling me that my father’s office had been breached, and I better get back to New York as soon as possible.
Luckily, Lorenzo and I were tight, and he wasn’t going to share this with our father.
Most importantly, he was going to make sure it stayed under wraps.
Loosely translated to mean wiped from the company history and data so no one would ever find out.
Of course, he would have questions. Questions he may or may not come to ask me in time. Questions I very well better get some answers to myself.
Hardly breathing, mostly fueled by wrath, I made it to the door of my home, where I knew Brooklyn was on the other side. Hopefully, she wasn’t in bed, sound asleep or some shit, because we had a lot to discuss, and none of it was waiting.
Swinging the door open, not in the slightest bit concerned I could have ripped it from its hinges and really sent it flying, I opened my mouth to shout for Brooklyn. Only, I didn’t need to because she was standing in front of it, as though she had been there the entire time, waiting for me.
An unfamiliar and unwelcome tightness gripped my chest. How was it that she infuriated me beyond belief and yet, concerned me to such an extent it only further ignited the anger inside me?
Wearing some short jean dress with buttons down the front and no shoes, she held her hands together in front of her, her eyelashes fluttering as she stared down at the floor.
I wasn’t sure why, considering the gesture held nothing.
No information. No ability to transport her back in time, so she didn’t risk—
“What were you thinking?” I hurled my keys across the foyer like they meant nothing, because they didn’t in that exact moment.
Nothing meant anything. Only Brooklyn and the situation at hand.
“What the hell were you thinking?” My voice dripped with urgency.
It might have had something to do with the fact that mentally it felt like the barrel of a gun was aimed at my head and would remain there until I made sense of what had been going through her mind.
She stared up at me, her brown eyes highlighted with the dusting of powder and thick black lines she had framing the underside of them.
“I’m sorry,” she declared, her tongue grazing over her bottom lip.
Where she moistened it seemed to shine with the dark red paint that coated them.
Meanwhile, she took strides forward to initiate the closing of the gap between us.
That wasn’t what I wanted, though. Shooting a hand up, I struck her with a sneer. “Tell me what happened.” It wasn’t that I didn’t want her close to me. Quite the opposite, actually. All I wanted was that. But it would only be a distraction.
Her eyes widened for a brief moment before they narrowed. “I broke into your father’s office.” She had absolutely zero hesitation in stating that fact. She seemed completely nonplussed about it. Like she wouldn’t lose any sleep over it.
Rubbing a hand over my mouth, I grunted. “That much is clear. Do you know how lucky you were? God, Lorenzo saved your life. I mean, really, he did, because if you were found by my father or anyone else on the security team—”
A few strands of untamed hair fell in front of her eye. “Marco, I did it for you.”
The easy way it came out, like liquid gold, wrapped around me snugly.
Almost too snug, though, with the way my chest felt heavy.
“You—” My jaw clenched. I was looking into the eyes of a woman who seemed to be filled with more pride for that which she had done than remorse.
“You did it for me? Really?” If the sheer volume of ways it could have gone wrong wasn’t banging around in my head, I might have applauded her.
That was what she was hoping for, wasn’t it?
That I would applaud her for doing something so reckless because it was for me? Whatever that meant.
“I swear it,” she ground out, her teeth clenching as she seemed to be swallowing an emotion she didn’t want to share the room with.
“Madonna mia.”9 Shaking my head, my eyes fell to the baby she was carrying.
“I was really hoping you were past all of this. That you were getting ready to be a mother and a wife, and you understood you couldn’t do this stuff anymore.
” The intensity in which she stared at me was unwavering, and I could feel her eyes on me, practically scorching me with a dare to slash through my worry and see clearly.
But I couldn’t. “You can’t just go breaking into people’s offices. Especially Santo’s.”
My father wouldn’t have taken kindly to it.
In fact, at a minimum, if he knew what she’d done, he might’ve become twisted up inside and reconsidered his deal with Raf.
Brooklyn would have been to blame, and no one would have been pleased.
At a maximum, he wouldn’t have just evened the playing field, it would have been much more than that, taking things or destroying things no one could have ever suspected.
He always made sure he knew the people he was doing business with, so if there ever came a time they betrayed him, he had the upper hand.
My father was an erudite, and he used that intellect to protect and further himself.
It was what made him so conniving and ruthless.
It was also how he expertly ingrained fear into people.
“But Marco—” She stepped closer, and I forced myself to peer off to the side.
Jesus. I wondered what it would take to get through to her and make her understand how much she—
How she couldn’t just—
That I needed her to—
“What if someone other than Enzo had caught you?” I blurted out, our eyes connecting as I gripped my jaw.
I was in Florida. I couldn’t have helped her.
I couldn’t have protected her. I mean, she was going to be my fake wife.
What would people have thought if something had happened to her while we were engaged?
Capri would have definitely been pissed.
Her parents would have never forgiven me.
And I— I, well, I didn’t know what. “What if he didn’t feel like being the good guy, and he didn’t tell you to get out of there?
What if he told our father? He’s not Vito.
He’s not me, okay? He has much more loyalty toward him. ”
Lorenzo was my brother, just as Vito was, but they were very different.
We all were, and Lorenzo didn’t have the same desire to step up to the wheel and prick his finger.
For the most part, he played it safe. Probably because he had no reason to do anything but that.
Our father had never given him a reason to size up and go toe to toe with him, not in the same way he had pushed me to do.
Putting her hands up, she spoke with them, softly, almost treading lightly. “Look, I have made plenty of mistakes—”
“Yeah, you have.” Was that what she was calling it now? Calling everything she had done and all the damage she had caused with her actions, not only now but all throughout her life, a mistake diminished its meaning.
A mistake was showing up to a party dressed as your favorite turtle from that ninja film when it wasn’t a costume party.
A mistake was walking in on your friends when they were about to screw.
Those were mistakes. They were unintentional. They were not deliberate or intended for any level of offense.
As far as Brooklyn was concerned, she knew exactly what she was doing before she went into things. But she wasn’t on trial, and I didn’t give a rat’s ass about all of her misdeeds. Not that they painted her in the best light, but they were irrelevant to the here and now.
She remained silent, tucking her hair behind her ear. It was pointless, though, because it fell forward almost immediately after.
“You should have never been so careless.” As if on their own accord, my feet propelled me forward. She smelled like cherry and vanilla, and it wafted over to me with every minor movement she made.
Her lips parted on a sigh, and my fingers tingled with the unmatched desire to reach up and skim them, to get the color of her lips on me. I wanted it all over me. I wanted to be marked by the crap she painted her lips with, reminded I was hers. In the same way she was mine.
“That’s the thing, Marco. I wasn’t. For the first time, I wasn’t doing it for myself or to feel like I could control something that was completely out of my control.” Color tainted her cheeks. “I was doing it because I wanted to do this for you.”
I know played on the tip of my tongue, but I resisted the urge to say the words. “You could’ve been hurt.” My voice was raspy, but less angry. My pulse jumped as a heaviness encased us.