3. Francesca
There was a shift in the air like the moment before a storm where everything went still, the air turned cold, and the world turned dark. It would happen all at once, one moment peace and the next chaos.
An icy shiver raced down my back, causing me to tremble, I dug my nails into the palm of my hands readying myself for the force of the storm. Eyes open and searching, they eventually landed on the guards at the end of the corridor. There was a commotion, they argued but then the door was opened, and two men stepped forward.
I sensed him before I even saw him walk into the room. His presence demanded my attention and my eyes refused to look anywhere else but at him.
God! What have you done Francesca?
“Miss Manci.” The asshole guard that had leered at me like I was his next meal called.
Then I heard Cassio’s voice. Laced with violence and the promise of death, the most gruesome and painful of deaths. I just wondered whose. His tone was professional and detached despite the dark edge to it. “That’s her.” His head turned toward my direction.
Transfixed, I watched as he walked toward the cell, wishing my eyes would find something else to look at. Instead, they were locked on him. Only him. Like there wasn’t anyone else in the room.
I sucked in a deep breath, and it refused to leave, remaining lodged in my lungs, straining it with unwelcome pressure.
Cassio had changed.
He looked older, manlier if it were even possible. He had always been tall, but now he seemed larger than life. The breadth of his shoulders made him look strong and capable. The white casual shirt, and the black trench coat he wore hugged his frame offering me a quality view of his muscles.
Cassio ran his fingers through his messy bed golden brown hair, it was longer than I remember, curling around his ears and falling over his eyes. The strangest urge to run my fingers through it settled over me, and I had to bite the inside of my cheeks to focus on something else.
“Dear heavens.” Kimberly came to stand beside me, fingers circling the bars. “What is that?”
I refrained from answering because there was no right answer for her question. Cassio was power incarnate, his head held high, his steps determined, and his back straight as a rod. He was a god in all his glory and might.
With each powerful step he took toward us, I realized that staying here didn’t sound so bad after all. Kimberly was starting to seem like a fun companion for the rest of my night.
The closer he got, the smaller the room around me became. Cassio seemed to suck all the air out of the room, pushing and pulling everything in its wake. Like a tornado that had finally touched the ground. Beautiful in all its danger.
Cassio Moretti stopped right in front of me on the other side of the cell. He tilted his head left, studying me like I was the newest attraction at the zoo. His eyes trailed my body, not as invasive and hungry as the guards had been. Cassio’s was cold, detached, and…judging.
There was nothing warm about him. His pine-green eyes burned with icy fire, leaving third-degree burns in their wake. He tore through my barriers, even though I fought with everything I had. Nothing could have prepared me for that.
I studied him trying to conjure the same intensity but obviously, I failed. Leaning against the bars to keep myself steady, I offered him a sweet smile, that always worked for me. Had worked once on him. But to this new version of him, I was nothing but prey, who had been spotted by its predator.
“Francesca,” he drawled.
My name on his lips was both like a curse and a balm soothing my soul. It reached the top of my head and all the way to my curled toes. It was too much. With the effect of the drug, his presence, and the way he looked at me, I was seconds from having a nervous breakdown.
I didn’t answer, nor did I move—it was physically impossible. I was in complete shock. Cassio shouldn’t have come, nothing in our short conversation indicated he was coming, or that he wanted to. The man didn’t even recall who I was.
Cassio ran his thumb under his lower lip, a sign I recalled, that he was annoyed. He ordered the guard to open the cell door, and he reluctantly did so, glaring at me the entire time.
“You’ve got powerful friends,” the guard chuckled as he reached for me, but before his hands could land on mine, Cassio stopped the guard from reaching me. He pulled the man away and offered him a warning look.
“Let’s go, Francesca,” Cassio ordered as he began to walk away.
I stood there frozen for a while before realizing that was it, just like that, I was freed. I turned just in time to catch the guard locking the cell door with Kimberly still inside. “Hey, your shoes.” She picked them up.
“Keep them,” I said still dazed with everything that was happening. “Nice meeting you.”
“Francesca,” Cassio drawled again, this time impatiently. He was already halfway through the corridor.
I took my time reaching him, the bright light bothered my eyes, and I used my hands to shield my sight from its assault. I heard Cassio tsk, but he said nothing else as we walked out. Cassio led me all the way to a large office I assumed belonged to the chief officer.
The chief officer was old, probably close to his sixties, with graying hair, a protruding belly, and one of those mustaches that curled at the sides. He looked like he belonged in a cartoon instead of a police station. It made me smile, but it quickly died when Cassio glared at me.
“None of this will be mentioned again, her charges will be dropped, and the paperwork will disappear,” Cassio ordered in his authoritative tone. “Do you understand?”
To my surprise—but then again, I shouldn’t have been—the chief nodded. “Yes, Boss.”
“Good.” Cassio agreed, seemingly satisfied with the chief’s answer.
“Her possessions are here, and after that, you are free to go.”
Cassio picked up my clutch and held it out to me, but it slipped through my damp fingers and fell to the floor. I reached down to grab it, but the world spun, and I grabbed the desk to keep me steady. Cursing, he reached down and picked it up for me.
“Hold it, it’s not that hard.” He offered me the clutch once more, and this time, I held it with both hands.
He gave me a quick glance before leading me toward the exit. I followed closely behind, almost stepping on the back of his black boots once or twice. The moment we stepped outside, the cold autumn air kissed my exposed skin causing me to shiver uncontrollably. I wrapped my arms around myself trying to ward off the wind.
Cassio stopped, and I stood beside him, taking in a view of the parking lot, aside from the few police cars parked there, I saw a black sports car and two other ones.
I shivered again unable to control myself, but it was so damned cold outside. From the corner of my eyes, I noticed Cassio was staring at me. He shook his head in what I imagined was disbelief. “Where is the rest of that thing?”
“It’s a special edition, Dolce and Gabbana,” I explained matter-of-factly.
“I don’t care what it is, Francesca, dressing like that gives men the wrong impression.”
“Now wait a minute.” I turned on him one finger raised. The nerve of this guy. That’s when I realized he wasn’t criticizing me, he was actually…concerned.
Looking at the night sky, Cassio sighed loudly and then proceeded to remove his trench coat and offered it to me. “Put this on.” I was momentarily stunned. “Unless you want to freeze, then I’ll gladly let you.”
So much for thinking he was being nice. I grabbed the coat forcefully and put it on, regretting it the moment I did. It sat comfortably over my shoulders and offered me the warmth I needed; the only problem was it smelled of him. Of citrus and sandalwood.
“Let’s go,” he said.
There was only one black sports car parked in the parking lot, and I deduced it was his. Cassio always liked his cars fancy. I ran toward it, barefoot, hurting as though I was stepping on glass. I shouldn’t have left my heels behind.
I tried opening the door, but he hadn’t unlocked it. I tried it again, but he was taking his sweet ass time in reaching the car. “Can you freaking open it?” I snapped.
Cassio slowly walked toward the driver’s side, lifted the car keys so I could see them, then made a show of pressing the button. The car beeped and its lights flashed. Again, I tugged at the handle, and it finally gave way. When I was inside, I closed the door as hard as I could muster.
“Stronzo.”
Cassio entered the moment I uttered the word. He closed the door and twisted on his seat facing me. Knowing I had made a mistake, I dug my nails into the palms of my hands and moved away from him.
“Call me that ever again and you’ll learn just what an asshole I can be,” he snapped.
“No worries, I don’t need to be reminded, I already know.”
He stared right into my eyes. His pine-green ones were cold, and it was unfair how beautiful they still were. “I should have let you rot in there,” he said to himself as he turned on the engine. “The next time, I’ll remember to forget you.”
I swallowed hard and turned away, so much for trying to rile him up. One did not simply argue with Cassio. He always had something smarter to say.
CASSIO
What a shit show.
Tonight, had not gone how I had expected it too.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I held back the urge to hit the steering wheel, refusing to lose control of the situation, even though I was this close to losing my shit. My eyes wandered to the woman in my car, she had her nose shoved into the collar of my coat. Either she didn’t care that I caught her smelling my scent or she hadn’t realized I was watching her.
Francesca fucking Manci.
She was the last person I expected to hear from, but oddly enough, there was a part of me, small—albeit alive—that had been eager to see her. Like a puppy with its master. Four years and apparently, she still had that effect on me. I must have been Pavlov-ed or some shit. It was the only explanation.
I gripped the wheel tightly and swerved in between the cars in front of mine, pressing on the gas. “Can you go slower?”
I turned to face Francesca. “Why?”
“There’s no one chasing us, and last I checked, you’re not Dominic Toretto, so chill out.”
“I have it under control,” I said swerving around another car, she gripped the seatbelt and only because I didn’t enjoy that sight on her face, I slowed—only a bit.
Silence settled over us once more, and in the meantime, Francesca began rummaging through my car, looking around and touching everything. She stopped when she found my gum. Without ceremony, she popped one into her mouth and threw the wrapping paper on the back seat. I clenched my teeth but remained silent.
Unsatisfied with what she had found, Francesca reached for the glove compartment and opened it, my gun fell out, she tried to hold it, but overwhelmed, she let it fall to the floor. Annoyed and slightly amused, I swerved the car left and stopped on the road’s shoulder.
“God damn it, Francesca.”
“It fell,” she snapped as though it was my fault.
I moved toward her with the intention of grabbing the firearm, Francesca jumped back, hitting her back against the door. Her sapphire blue eyes widened, and she sucked in a deep breath.
“What was that?” I pulled away from her, giving Francesca some space.
“Nothing.” She brushed it off like she hadn’t flinched from me.
“What did you think I was going to do? Hit you?” I sneered.
The look in her eyes told me that was exactly what she had expected. I fisted my hands, anger coursing through my veins, but not at Francesca, at the men who did this to her. “I’m going to pick it up now,” I said with a calm I did not possess.
Reaching out slower this time, I reached for the gun, my arm coming in contact with the bare skin of her creamy thigh, and I watched as she shivered. I couldn’t help the amused smile that graced my face, but it remained there for only a few seconds, not long enough for her to see.
“I don’t hit women, Francesca,” I said as I closed the glove compartment. “Not even those who annoy the fuck out of me.”
I didn’t need that kind of dominance over them, in fact, it sickened me to know there were men out there who enjoyed and partook in this kind of behavior. I took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of sweet cherries, it filled my nose and twisted my insides. Francesca always looked so damned sweet.
What happened to her now?
She didn’t look sweet, on the contrary, she looked sensual and sexy, her white dress hugging every curve of her perfect body. Those toned long legs on display drove me insane. Not to mention the pink lipstick that made her full kiss-me lips look even more kissable.
I cleared my throat and focused on the road before me. Francesca chewed loudly and then popped a bubble, the loud POP echoing inside the car. How could a woman infuriate me so much, and in the same moment, have me completely ensnared in her presence? Unable to help myself, I watched Francesca again, taking advantage of the fact that she was looking out the window.
She was still unbearably beautiful, and that dress… blood traveled to my dick, and I couldn’t stop myself. The white dress she wore left nothing to the imagination. I could see the large swell of her breasts and her nipples poking through the fabric. I wondered if she was cold or turned on.
Stop that. Focus. Keep your mind where it should be and control yourself.
What was she doing back in my city? Last I checked, she was still living in Indianapolis with her very old—dead husband. How could I have forgotten? Paolo Biancini, Francesca’s late husband, had died three weeks ago. I just hadn’t expected her to be back so soon after. I thought maybe she wanted to mourn him.
Having Francesca here in my city was dangerous. Too many memories. Too much water under that broken bridge.
“I heard about your husband.” The words slipped through my lips. Silence never bothered me, but with her it did. Francesca had always been a chatterbox.
She popped the gum again and turned to face me, something unreadable in her eyes — was it sorrow? I ran my thumb under my lower lip and clenched my teeth hard.
“I’m not in the mood for small talk.” She replied eventually.
Great. “I was being polite, Francesca.”
“It doesn’t suit you.” She looked at her nails.
“Nice to know that’s what you think about me,” I pointed out.
“I don’t think about you at all, Cassio.” I turned toward her, and she swirled around to face the window, obviously hiding what I would find written all over her face. Warmth pooled in my stomach at the realization that she still thought about me.
Then guilt followed and so did anger, so I focused on the latter and decided not to think about that further. Thinking about what Francesca was thinking was a double-edged blade, and I was bound to be the one getting both ends of it.
When I stared at her again, she was pale as a ghost, a hand on her stomach and eyes closed. “Are you going to be sick?”
“I can handle it,” she murmured, but it didn’t look like it.
“I swear to God, Francesca, not in my car,” I said, not wanting to sound like an asshole, but my baby was only a week old, and I fucking loved it.
“It’s not my first time,” she snapped. “I’m fine.” The lie that slipped through her mouth was obvious to us both.
Which reminded me why I was so awfully and incredibly pissed with the woman beside me. “Hold on,” I ordered.
I found the nearest diner just in time. Francesca flew from the car not stopping to see if there was anyone else around us in the dimly lit parking lot. She ran toward the bushes wearing nothing but that flimsy dress and my coat. I parked the car and quickly followed, not daring to leave her alone.
Francesca was heaving hard the second I reached her. “Go away,” she barked at me as she leaned downward to throw up again.
“I’m not holding your hair,” I said at the same time.
She managed to look up to glare at me, but nausea pulled her back under, and she didn’t have time to say whatever smart thing I knew was coming out of that mouth.
I stood there beside her, half looking at Francesca, half watching the parking lot from where we stood. When she was done heaving her soul out, she sighed loudly and stumbled backward. I grabbed her arm and steadied her. She was paler than before, her bones trembling.
“Shit.” I cursed as she fought to get away from me. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” I said and escorted her toward the twenty-four-hour diner.
Three tables were filled, but aside from that, the place was fairly empty. The bathroom was at the back of the room, and I held on to Francesca, knowing she could walk on her own but not putting it to the test. The truth was… holding her felt natural, like something my hands were used to from lives past.
“What are you doing?” she snapped as I opened the women’s bathroom door for her and proceeded to follow.
“I don’t need you holding my hair.” She snapped.
“If I let you go, you’re going to pass out.”
“I’m fine.” She pushed me away and I let her go reluctantly, only to watch her stumble toward the sink. She said that a lot I noticed, but I was starting to realize she didn’t say it from the heart.
Closing the door behind me as I retreated from the restrooms, I took the closest booth and ordered a bottle of water and salty chips. By the time Francesca came out of the bathroom, her makeup was less messy, and her long golden hair was tied in a ponytail, offering me a view of her long neck. I shifted trying to accommodate my dick that was constrained by my pants.
“What are we doing, Cassio?” she asked as she took the seat across from me.
“You need water and electrolytes, your blood pressure is too low, and I’m not risking you getting sick inside my car.”
She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes, opened her mouth as if to say something but decided against it. Francesca snatched the bag of chips and popped it open. When had she become so loud? “Eat and drink slowly, or else?—”
“I know, Cassio.” She sighed. “As I said, not my first time.”
This brought me to the matter at hand—or rather a handful of matters we needed to discuss. “Why did you assault a police officer?”
Her jaw dropped and then she quickly picked it up. “It was barely an assault. I kicked his shin when he tried to grab me.”
My nostrils flared, and I ran my thumb under my lower lip trying to control irritability. “Why did he grab you?”
She looked at her hands and then rested against her cushioned seat. My coat was large on her and for some reason, the sight caused my blood to race inside my veins. “I freaked out.” Then she proceeded to tell me parts—because I knew she was hiding the most important bit of the story.
“How the mighty have fallen.” I shook my head.
“Like you care.”
“Actually, I do, Francesca.” I tapped my fingers against the table staring her deep in the eye. “I can’t keep cleaning up your messes like that. You must have been pretty high to do something so stupid.”
She pushed the empty bottle and chip bag toward me. “I’m done here.”
Well, I wasn’t. Not even close. When I got that call from Francesca tonight, I thought it was some sick joke. Hearing her voice after four years had been a physical shock. Enough that I jumped from bed ignoring the woman beside me.
“Who gave you the blow?” Her eyes widen and her cheeks turn pink. Francesca looked around embarrassed and then glared at me for making her so.
“I’m not going to answer that,” she snapped.
“I highly recommend that you do.” I fisted my hands under the table. Aggravating woman.
“Or what? You’re going to treat me like one of your men?” She whispered that part. “I’m not going to answer because I don’t want to.”
I almost chuckled, when had she grown a backbone? Where did the sweet Francesca Manci go? The Outfit’s little saint. So poised and perfect.
“Who gave it to you?”
She sighed loudly looking at the ceiling. “Why does it have to be someone? Why can’t it be me?” She crossed her arms. “I bought it.” The worst part was that there was no trace of a lie on her face.
“That’s expensive shit.” I pointed, slightly shocked.
“I like expensive shit.”
I couldn’t help but provoke her, maybe it was to see how far she’d gone, or how far I was willing to go. “Is that why you married Paolo Biancini? For the expensive shit?”
“That and the sex, of course. Can’t forget that.” She offered me a sweet diabetic smile. “Or that bed we once broke.”
My fists were clenched so tight that my knuckles were numb and pale. I asked the question, so the fault was mine alone, and now I had to imagine her in bed with that old fucker. It twisted my stomach and left me wanting to break something.
I could stomach a lot of shit, my hands were coated in blood, and I had a spot in Hell with my name on it. Few things, if any, scared me. But talking to Francesca and learning what had happened to her in these past four years was not something I planned on doing tonight, in a diner at four o’clock in the morning.
We headed back to the car, and I drove her back to her place until she grew all stiff. “Where are you taking me?” She inquired.
“Your home.”
“That place is not my home, Cassio,” she said with such fierceness that it left me feeling like a fool. With all the bad memories that happened in that house, I wouldn’t call that place a home either.
She offered me—begrudgingly—the address to her new place. A neighborhood, I might add, was not to my liking, but I didn’t mention that. It wasn’t like we were going to see each other again. In fact, I had no plans of seeing her ever again. Tonight, had been a one-time deal. A necessity. A favor.
With her no longer living in Indianapolis, the only way to keep her away from me was avoiding her at all costs. Francesca was too much trouble and as my dick had proven tonight, when it came to her, I was eager for some action.
I couldn’t deal with the past right now, with what happened between us, and from her hostility toward me, it seemed neither did she. It was best to ignore it ever happened. Even if the thought of forgetting her didn’t sit well with me.
As I parked the car, I pushed aside all thoughts of the past and focused on her. Before she could leave, I locked the doors. Her vivid sapphire eyes flashed toward me, and I had the impression she was about to get on my nerves with her new attitude. “Don’t think this will ever happen again, Francesca. I let this one pass because you are obviously grieving, but the next time you are found with blow or any drugs on you, I will deal with you as I deal with my men.”
“Trust me, Cassio, I never want to see you again.”
“The feeling is mutual.” I unlocked the door. She stepped out of the car in a hurry, and I sped away from her building with a bitter taste in my mouth as if I had been running from something.