Chapter 10 #3
"For him, people are exhausting. Technology makes sense. People don't.”
“So you have the charming one, the reckless one, the hostile one, and the silent genius.”
“Pretty much.”
She cocks her head to the side. “And which one are you?”
“I'm the one who left. The one who built something outside the family and thought I could stay out forever.” I meet her eyes. “Turns out I was wrong.”
She holds my gaze then says, "Tell me about Luna. What's she like?”
I raise an eyebrow. “You're asking me about your own sister?”
“I'm asking what you observed. You spent an entire wedding reception in the same room with her. You must have thoughts. I’m curious.”
I nod and drop my spoon into the sink. “She's protective of you. Watched you all night like she was ready to throw hands if anyone stepped out of line.” I pause. “She also made a comment about my ass to Cillian when she thought I couldn't hear.”
Adriana's eyes widen and she claps a hand over her mouth. “She did not.”
“Yep, she did. Cillian told her he'd pass along the compliment. I'm choosing to let it go.”
“Oh my God, I'm going to kill her,” Adriana murmurs with a shake of her head.
“She’s different than you. Like exact opposite different.”
“Yes. She’s a lot younger. Your age, actually,” she says.
A flush of pink rises in her cheeks again at the mention of age. Jesus, doesn’t she realize she could lap women my age, in every possible way. The look on her face tells me she doesn’t, and I don’t know why, but it twists something in my chest.
“She was always more free-spirited, like nothing could touch her, whereas I’ve always been much more grounded in reality,” Adriana says.
“Luna’s fun, I’m serious. She’s artsy and I’m better with numbers.
” She leans forward, her elbow on the counter.
“She's also the only person in my life who's never wanted anything from me except to be her sister.” Her voice softens.
“Luna sees me. Not the CEO, not the DiMicheli heir, not the obligations. Just me.”
“That's rare.”
“It is.” She looks down at the empty ice cream container. “She didn't want me to do this. The marriage. She wanted me to run.”
“Why didn't you?”
“Because running means leaving everyone else behind and putting them all in danger. My mother. My father, even if he's the reason I'm in this mess. The people who depend on our family.” She shakes her head. “Luna gets to be free because I'm not. That's the deal. That's always been the deal.”
I nod. “I know exactly what you mean. Sometimes you can’t run.”
I get up to throw the container away, feeling her eyes on me as I move around the kitchen, cleaning up the evidence of our late-night indulgence.
She drums her fingertips on the counter. “You're not what I expected,” she says.
“Oh, yeah?” I turn back to her. “What did you expect?”
“A brute. A soldier. Someone who grunts instead of talks and solves problems with his fists.”
“Well, I can be that guy, too. When necessary.”
“But it's not your default.”
“No.”
“Tell me something else.” She tilts her head. “Why ice cream? Of all things.”
I definitely wasn’t expecting that kind of question. It hits me hard in a place I usually keep locked down. But it's two in the morning and she's looking at me like she actually wants to know.
“My mom,” I say, spreading my arms out on the counter.
“When I was a kid, she used to sneak me ice cream after dinner.
My dad was strict about food, about everything really, but she'd wait until everyone was asleep and bring me a bowl.
It was always mint chocolate chip. We'd sit in the kitchen and talk. It was our thing.” I shrug.
“She died when I was seventeen. The ice cream thing just… stuck. Makes me feel close to her, like that part is still with me.”
She's quiet for a moment, her eyes wide with shock at my admission. “I'm so sorry.”
“It was a long time ago.”
“That doesn't mean it doesn't still hurt.”
No. It doesn't.
“You should get some sleep,” I say in a soft voice. “Tomorrow's probably going to be complicated.”
“Tomorrow's going to be a nightmare,” she groans.
“Probably. But we’ll always have ice cream.”
The corner of her mouth lifts. Just barely. Then she heads back to the bedroom. Reaper gets up and trots out behind her.
“Traitor,” I call after him.
His tail wags but he doesn't look back.
I wander back to the guest bedroom, collapse onto the bed, and stare at the ceiling.
My wife is sleeping in my room. My dog has abandoned me. And in the morning, we're going to have to start to figure out how to run two empires while pretending we know what the hell we're doing.
This is fine. Everything is fine.
I close my eyes, willing myself to sleep.
A noise wakes me up around four. I shoot up in the bed and grab the weapon I keep under the mattress. Then I hear the elevator door open.
I jump out of bed and cross the room to look out the window.
She's outside running. At four in the fucking morning. In the dark. Alone.
Jesus Christ.
I pull on a hoodie, grab my sneakers, and dart to the elevator door.
This woman is going to be the death of me.