Chapter 49
Sweet Revenge
I’m rethinking my bargaining skills with Carrie.
Except it hadn’t.
In the middle of the gala, I got a call from Jameson.
Leo was having a panic attack to the point of not knowing where he was and repeating Gabriel’s name.
I helped calm him down over the phone, while leaving early with Michael and Rudy to New York.
Isaac and Leanne helped take care of Carrie’s disgruntlement.
To be honest, I thought I’d pass out at the amount of people and kept excusing myself to the bathroom.
So, rethinking further deals with Carrie, top of the list—no parties.
The Golden Laurel opening was last month. A lavish party filled with over-the-top decorations for the dark marble and gold hotel. This party however was decked out in balloons and decorations, but not to the same degree.
I sit back in my seat with water in hand, looking around the array of people. Trix’s center opening was a success, although not hers technically. Same with the other two opening in the spring semester. Haven’t agreed to attend yet, although I may shove past my fears for Trix. Carrie not so much.
I’m sat at one of the back tables, by my request, the space filled for the dinner being held in the large auditorium that’ll hold future events for students.
A free space for displaced students, mostly women and others in marginalized communities, who have nowhere else to go. Almost all of it funded by Leo and me.
Sipping my water, I see Leanne and Isaac together, talking to some educators.
He’s not on bodyguard duty today. I wanted him to be here with her, and he looks all proper and posh in his three-piece suit.
Leanne wears a gorgeous dress of pale blue and silver jewelry.
Her smile is the icing on the cake every time she looks at him, and he smiles back.
They’re an adorable couple and I get giddy inside every time I see them.
Water put down, I slide my chair out and grab my forearm crutches, deciding to take a stroll. My hands grip the now familiar handles, moving away from the table. I remain near the wall, trying to be unseen, but most don’t even recognize me.
I glance over my shoulder, finding two of my shadows—Chesty and Michael. Mila is overseeing from a distance, stoic and such.
While walking, I notice Trix in a crowd of people.
Next to her stands Chiari, holding her hand gently.
Trix wears a gown that sparkles with oranges and yellows.
Chiari wears her usual suit, but with a silky white blouse underneath her jacket.
Her hair is down past her shoulders. I smile at them, still getting over the fact they’ve been dating for almost a month. They complement each other well.
I’m the least dressed of the bunch. I’m in slacks, wearing loafers hidden under the fabric with a simple shiny blouse. Nothing flashy with my pixie cut hair styled by Lisa, and nails to match by George. My little stylist team.
I tried to wear a dress for the Golden Laurel opening but panicked and almost broke out in hives from the anxiety that gripped me. Leanne was with me, and we both decided for me to wait before trying again.
Rome might be the last time for them.
There’s a sudden pop that pierces through the noise. People exclaim, and then laugh.
My body goes on alert as I grip my crutches, spine stiffening. My legs shake, ready to collapse beneath me as fear pulses through me. Everything quickly starting to close in as there’s a tightness around my chest.
“Just a balloon.” Chesty’s voice sounds from the side. Something touches me, and I flinch almost tripping. He holds his hand up. “Breathe, sister.”
There’s laughing and talking around me, people unbeknownst to my growing panic. The cacophony almost too loud as a ringing starts within my ears. Pillars falling. Blood. Screams—
I try to focus on Chesty’s face, concern lining his features.
“You’re not there,” he says softly.
I swallow hard. “Michael.”
Chesty moves to the side as I blink, trying to focus enough to recite the first few lines of The Raven. And then Michael is in my vision, who approaches and carefully places a hand over my crutch’s cuff. I focus on him, eyes flicking to the large scar across his neck, mottling his skin.
Igor’s screams. Blood on Leo’s face. Gabriel licking—
“We’re not there, ma’am,” he says quietly.
I blink. I nod slowly, breathing in deep as I see Michael before me. He’s alive. We’re not there. He squeezes my arm a little, giving me a comforting smile.
“What’s wrong?” Mila’s voice appears.
I jolt again at the suddenness, and curse at myself for now being jumpy. My chest shakes as I inhale slowly, trying to calm. I glance over at Mila as she approaches in her pressed suit, dressed like Chesty and Michael. I’d feel better if all of us were in jeans or boots.
“Small scare,” Chesty answers.
“From?” She asks.
“Just a fucking balloon,” I add, shuddering a breath.
Another reason I may not be able to keep doing these events.
I thought my anxiety was bad before, it’s gotten worse.
Crowds in general could easily drive me into a panic, that even some dinner evenings with Trix and Leanne I’ve almost passed out thinking someone is going to blow up the building.
Or get shot. Or my bodyguards get killed.
Or I’ll be abducted. My anxiety had choices.
I’ve found one of the few people who can touch me while in a panic attack, besides Leo, was Michael.
Not sure why. Perhaps it helps my brain to see him alive or it’s the shared experience from that night in hell.
I knew my trauma from the last few months would linger and haunt, even with Gabriel, Renato, and so many gone.
Except one, who was still working in the hotel.
Matteo wasn’t the cause of any of the flashbacks though.
We’ve had two other conversations, brief, but it was something.
One about Henry Fonda in My Darling Clementine, an American Western he actually liked.
The second conversation was mostly him just asking a singular question, “were you really homeless?” Leo knew about them all, and was okay with those short conversations, long as I wasn’t alone with Matteo.
I shake my head, coming back to the present as Mila looks me over carefully.
“I can have the perimeter rechecked if you want, ma’am,” Mila suggests.
“I’m fine. Just need a breather.” I nod at Michael who let’s go of me.
“Do you need to sit down again, ma’am?” Michael asks.
“No, I just got up.”
“Are you sure?” Mila asks next. “Perhaps—”
“Concern is weird on you. Quit it,” I tease her, and she almost smirks.
“Just doing my job, Mrs. Luciano.” We give each other a knowing look, and then her phone rings. She steps away, taking the call.
“She’s getting sassier,” I comment.
“That’s her sassy?” Michael asks, perplexed. I shrug.
Chesty snorts, folding his arms over his torso. “We can leave if you want. You showed face and dinner was served. Checked off the list for Carrie.”
“Not going until Trix’s speech. I’m better now, just needed a minute.”
I shift on my feet, moving my crutches as I take a few steps forward.
“Maybe you should sit down,” Chesty suggests.
“Seriously? I just stood up. I can last another thirty minutes, even longer with Flotsam and Jetsam here.” I wiggle my crutches.
“Out of all the things to name them, why eels?” Michael asks, always intrigued by my naming choices. I have another wheelchair, a foldable travel one, I call Optimus.
“They help get the job done,” I say with a snarky grin. “And they’re actually sea terms.”
His face scrunches. “That makes less sense, ma’am.”
“Don’t try to get her to make sense,” Chesty mumbles.
I playfully glare at them, walking away and getting closer to Trix’s group without really being seen. Anxiety travels up my spine again, warning flicking. I glance around, trying to reassure myself.
There’re no explosions. Everyone’s fine.
Taking another long breath, I start to head for Trix and Chiari, when someone catches my eye. I stop, wondering if I’m seeing a mirage. It can’t be. She turns and holy crud muffins, yup it’s her.
Chesty pauses next to me. “Is that who I think it is?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Why is she here?”
“Guessing the older man and woman next to her are her parents. Likely donors for the university. Maybe they’re alumni.”
I stare at my ex-coworker who’s in a pink sparkly dress. Her blonde hair is down, curled like it always was. Bailey appears bored, standing next to her parents while she drinks champagne and wrinkles her nose at it. Her father is speaking to one of the administrators.
Suddenly, Leanne and Isaac appear. “Autumn, that blonde pain in the ass—”
“I see her,” I interject, trying not to cause attention, turning away. “Okay, maybe I do need to sit.”
Michael guides me back towards our table, the others following me. Leanne asks, “What is she doing here? Thought she hated the idea of college.”
“She did. Maybe her father changed her mind, she could be starting this semester,” I answer, noticing Isaac’s slight scowl as he exchanges a look with Chesty. “Okay, so what, Bailey is here. The girl isn’t gonna try to start a firefight.”
“Should I be worried, ma’am?” Michael asks. “Am I missing information on someone?”
“Old enemy. Harmless unless she has a coffee in hand, if so, grab a net.” I make it to our table, easing down into my seat and flex my hands as I put Flotsam and Jetsam aside.
“Should I escort her out?” Michael asks, looking at Isaac for answers.
“Son of a nutcracker, she’s not a mobster,” I say, exasperated and almost wanting to laugh. Well, least some of my anxiety went away. Leanne sits next to me, Isaac beside her.
“Oh, come on, use your powers and take her out,” Leanne muses, glaring over where Bailey disappears into the crowd.