Chapter 8 #2
She squeezes her eyelids together again and her breath comes out in sharp, jagged puffs. When she opens her eyes, they shoot back with fire. “What do you want from him?”
“It’s more of a mutually beneficial arrangement. He gets what he wants, and I get what I want. It’s a great opportunity, but he’s been too stubborn to take it until now. I guess he just needed the right kind of push.”
Silence stretches around us as her fingers tap against her jeans. “How much time do I have?”
I tilt my head, desperate to wrap my hands around her silky hair again. “Forty-eight hours.”
Her eyes flick up, but I don’t see panic. “How generous of you.”
“You know me so well.” I smirk. “Here’s what you’re going to do. Call your brother and tell him the truth about your little predicament. The rest should fall into place nicely.”
“What if he retaliates?”
“You wound me, Emilia,” I say with a scoff. “Do you really think Russo number two isn’t scared of me? Sure, he has more balls than Vince, but he’s not stupid.”
“And if it doesn’t work?”
I straighten, smoothing my hands down my jacket. “First, I’ll go after your partner and then I dig up your past. And just when things couldn’t get worse, I’ll expose your little stunt, ruining your career and any semblance of the normal life you’ve been chasing since your dad died.”
Her face drains of color, but she doesn’t bow her chin. That’s my girl.
“I’ll get you your meeting, but after that, we’re done.”
“That’s cute,” I smile slow and lethal, reaching out my hand and gripping that confident chin of hers. “After that I’ll decide when I’m done playing, and unfortunately for you, I just found my new favorite toy.”
Mia slaps my hand away, and I let her push me out of the booth. As soon as she’s free, she storms toward the door without looking back.
I grin from ear to ear before throwing down a hundred-dollar bill and stopping beside the booth Michael is currently tucked in.
“Do you think she can do it?” he asks, eyes locked on whatever is on his computer screen.
“She’ll do it,” I respond. “She doesn’t have a choice.”
“This isn’t part of my job description,” Michael mumbles as I push him toward a large wooden door sprawling with ornate trim.
“My mom insisted, and you know I can’t say no to her,” I explain, pressing the doorbell. I love dragging Michael to these family dinners with me.
In my spare time when I’m not terrorizing mouthy detectives, I’m terrorizing one of the only men I trust who hates all things that involve being in a normal family setting.
Mainly, I brought him to take the attention off me and my mom and to stop asking when I’m going to bring a woman around—to which I politely explain that she takes up enough of my time as it is.
The door whooshes open, and my little sister appears with a bright smile on her face. When I see her, I can’t help but envy the way she can find joy from normal things that don’t involve making people uncomfortable or crushing her enemies.
“Leo!” Maribella yells, practically jumping into my arms. There are only two women on this planet that I let hug me, and one of them is currently latched on with no intention of letting go. “I haven’t seen you in weeks,” she mumbles into my jacket.
“And whose fault is that, Bells?”
She unwraps herself from my body and takes a step back, thrusting her hands onto her waist for the infamous DeLuca power pose.
“My dissertation isn’t going to write itself.” She beams. “Unlike some people, I don’t con others into doing my work for me.”
“Work smarter, not harder,” I reply, recalling my college days when I’d trick some pretty little thing into writing a paper for me. It was almost too easy and I liked a challenge.
“Whatever,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes until her gaze lands on Michael, who’s trying to inch away from our sibling reunion.
“Oh, you brought him,” she says coldly, her shoulders tensing up. “Hello, Michael.”
Michael doesn’t respond; he just gives her a silent nod. She rolls her eyes at that before turning around to stalk inside.
As soon as we walk into the foyer, I can hear the clattering of pots and pans in the kitchen and smell the aroma of garlic and tomatoes.
My parents’ townhouse in Brooklyn is the complete opposite of me. It’s open, warm, and loud in a way that should make me uncomfortable. But it’s the one place that makes me forget about the hard exterior I’ve worked so hard to maintain.
“Hey, dickhead,” Gio calls out as he rounds the corner. He slaps me playfully on the shoulder but thankfully doesn’t pull me in for a hug. “You have some explaining to do.”
I shrug off my coat and hang it on the coat rack before turning to him. “When are you going to learn that I don’t have to do anything you tell me to do?” I counter, tilting my head.
“When you stop getting yourself into terrible situations,” he sighs, scratching the back of his neck.
His shiny new Rolex catches the light, nearly blinding me.
“My friend that works in the DA’s office said you were caught up in some homicide investigation.
You should really be more like Michael and learn to fly under the radar,” he says, turning to him before saying, “Hey.”
“Hey,” Michael says, acknowledging him with something other than a nod. Thankfully, Maribella isn’t nearby to take it personally.
I shoot him a hard look. “I took care of it. I’ll let you know when I need an overpriced lawyer that spends all his money on hair gel and gauche watches.”
My trusty sidekick snickers behind me, earning him a death glare from my brother. “Whatever, asshole. Don’t come crawling to me when you end up on Page Six.”
“Relax, Fratello,” I say, grabbing his shoulder. “Adrian took care of it. He has a connection with the commissioner, and I’m no longer a suspect.”
Not legally, at least. Mia still wants my head on a platter, but that will be hard to do from underneath my thumb.
Gio frowns, tiny wrinkles crawling up his forehead. “I know your hands aren’t exactly clean, but be careful with that Adrian guy. I don’t like him.”
My brother is more than aware of my partnership with the Caruso’s. He’s dabbled in the dark underbelly of the city a few times himself, but it doesn’t stop him from turning on the older brother protector mode.
“Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.” Adrian is harmless and his connections come in handy from time to time.
Gio stares at me, weighing whether to keep giving me useless advice. And then he makes the right decision and steps aside, letting us pass into the dining room.
“Leo,” my mom calls the second she spots me, already jumping out of her chair. “You look tired.”
“I’m not,” I argue.
She ignores my argument and pulls me in for a hug. I don’t hug back right away, but I eventually give in and rest my chin on top of her head.
“You’re working too much,” she sighs, pulling her head back and pinching my cheek. “It must be bad when your own mother has to confirm plans with your secretary. No wonder you don’t have time to find me a daughter-in-law.”
I groan, rolling my head to the side. “Look, Mom. I brought Michael.”
She narrows her two hazel eyes at me, seeing right through my plan, but takes the bait anyway. “Michael!” she exclaims, pulling him in for an awkward hug. He always tries to squirm away, but she’s strong for an older woman. Eventually, he gives up and lets his arms flop to the side.
“Cecil, let the poor boys sit down so we can eat,” my dad says from the far end of the table. “Hello, son. Michael, good to see you again.”
I give him a thankful smile and take my place beside Maribella. Michael sits down next to me, quickly reaching for the wine bottle in the middle of the table. I look at him and tap my glass too.
The rest of dinner moves easily after that. Gio and Maribella argue over some ridiculous conspiracy theory, and my mom piles food onto my plate like it’s her job. My dad politely asks me about work and includes Michael where he can.
At some point, I find myself doing what I do on most nights like these. I just sit back and listen. I take in every warm and solid feeling because it wasn’t always like this.
I don’t remember much from before the fire. I was barely ten at the time. But I do remember my birth mother’s blood-curdling scream and how the cold sank into my back as I watched from across the road.
I remember the day my dad brought me home. It was so hard to adjust to this place, and there were days when I’d never felt more alone. But now, I can’t imagine any other place feeling like home.
I have so much to be thankful for, and yet there’s still a piece of me missing inside. One I intend to get back.
“You’re quiet,” Maribella says, glancing over at me. “That means you’re plotting.”
I shrug, lifting my wine glass and taking a slow sip. “I’m enjoying the peace.”
She quirks a brow. “You don’t do peace. You thrive on chaos.”
She’s right.
Peace has always felt temporary to me. Even though I landed in a good home with a good family, I’d always remember the feeling of that heat on the back of my neck taunting me. Fragile things turn to ash when you get too comfortable.
But tonight, I let myself enjoy it. Maybe even wish for it someday when everything settles.
“Peace is boring and unpredictable,” I answer, leaning back in my chair. “Chaos. Now that I can control.”
“I think you have that backward,” she murmurs, taking a sip of her own wine before inserting herself back into a conversation between Gio and our mom.
I smile to myself because it makes sense to me. Chaos makes sense. It gives me something to control. Something to burn before it burns me first.
But I still take time to look around and appreciate this small piece of myself. No matter how dark things get, this is the part of me that will always be worth protecting.
And if protecting it means dragging a certain brown-eyed detective into my chaos, so be it.